#maybe it should be a gameshow name

[joels-shitty-puns]

The Key To Your Heart - Track 6

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: 4K

Series List: Here!

Miss last chapter? Here!

This one's a little longer than the last few, but it's one I was really excited to get to for a while. I hope you guys like it! We're starting to get into the nitty gritty! Once again please let me know what you think of it! Thank you all for your support :)

__________

After your emotional conversation with Pedro, you were worried he'd stop talking to you. At least, it seems that's how it usually works. Whenever you try to have a conversation about emotions with someone, it gets shut down. But surprisingly.. it didn't push Pedro away at all. The two of you talk nearly every day on the phone, and when you don't, it's made up for with plenty of text messages. You don't even have to be the first to communicate, either. It just feels natural. It doesn't need to be over-thought.

You keep telling yourself not to get your hopes up, but at the same time, you feel like maybe it's turning into something. Something more than friends. You couldn't help but wonder if Pedro felt the same way, or if maybe he's just a really nice guy.

Despite these feelings, you're still hesitant to tell him you love him. Although he put many of your fears to rest, you continued to be nervous. You were inexperienced. You were significantly younger than him. You led two very different lives. And even though he reassured you about your appearances, it doesn't mean you'd be his type once he actually saw you. Shoot, you don't even know if he's interested in pursuing a relationship.

Plus, now there's the risk of messing up a new friendship. Why ruin it?

How does anyone ever get into a relationship? Others make it look so easy, jumping from relationship to relationship like their heart isn't at stake.

Maybe someday you'd tell him. Maybe someday you'd share these other fears as well. But not yet. You weren't ready.

_____

About a week had gone by since you first talked on the phone, and it was around 1 PM when he called you.

"Hey Pedro!"

"Hey there, songbird," he replied cheerily.

"Songbird?" You giggled.

"If you hate it-"

"No, I love it. It's sweet," you blushed.

"Okay good. But the reason I'm calling is because I saw something on Instagram…"

"Oh yeah? What of?"

"About you. When were you going to tell me?"

Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh what? What is he referring to?

You nervously laughed "I… what? Tell you what now?"

"Your album is coming out in a WEEK!??!" He practically yelled with excitement.

Seriously… this guy. Giving me a damn heart attack.

"OH" you replied sheepishly. "You scared me, thinking you heard… I dunno"

"Oh! I'm sorry. No. I haven't heard any information that you haven't told me yourself, nor would I believe it anyway. Other than.. this album!!!" Pedro announced like a gameshow host.

You laughed before replying "yes, yes, the album comes out next week! They just announced it I guess."

Pedro clapped and shouted. "CONGRATULATIONS!!!! I'm so happy and proud of you!!!!!!!!"

You weren't looking in a mirror, and he couldn't see you either, but you could bet money that your cheeks were a bright shade of pink. "Thank you, Pedro!" You giggled, your face beginning to hurt from the large smile he caused.

"How are you celebrating? Is the studio doing anything for you?"

"Well they mentioned an album release party, but being that nobody really knows me I don't know who I would even invite. Plus I'm not sure that a large thing like that is how I'd like to show myself to the world. A little too ceremonious for my liking." You grimaced.

"Well, I happen to think you deserve something ceremonious, even if you don't think you do. And I think we should celebrate."

"We - you - you do? You mean…?" You stuttered in disbelief.

"You and me," he said matter-of-factly.

"You.. and… What did you have in mind?" 

Frankly you didn't know what to think.

"Well. I was thinking… Maybe we could listen to the album together? We could talk on the phone and listen, and it would be like our own little album release party. You wouldn't have to show yourself or meet people. It would just be like our normal conversations. Except I'd get to hear your new music and talk about it with you. If you want," he said, sounding slightly nervous.

Your heart swelled at the gesture and you agreed happily. The two of you made a plan to "meet" at 7PM and listen together the night of your album release. And he promised he wouldn't listen without you.

_____

It wasn't until after you were off the phone with him that you began to overthink the songs on your album. Not unlike your first single, these were also rather vulnerable at times. Sure, he knew a lot, and he'd listen to the album anyway. Probably. But still. To hear it… together? You were starting to feel like you were in over your head.

Nevertheless, the week continued on like normal. Work, talking to Pedro, hanging with Skipper. You agreed to a few more interviews in article or voice format after the release, and signed a few last minute things.

As the album date approached closer, Pedro texted you one day.

"Okay I'm going to ask you something and I want you to trust me okay. I'm not going to do anything that I know you would hate."

"Okay…" what does this man have up his sleeve?

"Can I have your address?"

Why does he want my address???? The panic settled in. But, you did like him; and he hadn't crossed any boundaries yet. In fact, he's been one of the most understanding of your qualms.

So. You sent him your address.

"Thank you ❤️" Pedro replied.

A heart !?! A red one!? 

"You're welcome. Also… I was planning to tell you anyway, but if you're looking for my address I may as well tell you…" you told him your real name. Not your stage name. Not a nickname. But your name. First, Last. All of it.

"Thank you for trusting me. I promise I'll keep it safe," reassured Pedro.

"Thank you, P."

"Of course. You have a beautiful name, by the way."

Your heart did a somersault.

_____

The album release date was finally here and you aren't sure you slept a wink. You were a bundle of nerves and excitement. You loved him and always enjoyed chatting together. This was exciting. But also these songs are so personal. This is a big moment. This was a big plan. And why did he want your address anyway?

~~~~~

Meanwhile at Pedro's place, he was just as nervous. He had started out excited, but then he got into his head. His plans for the evening started feeling too romantic. He didn't want you to get the wrong idea. He liked you, but he didn't want to push it. Maybe he was showing too many feelings towards you. You love someone else, and him not respecting that is rude. All you want is a friend and he's just going to seem like another one of those creepy guys trying to get into your pants.

But it was too late now, the plans were in motion, and maybe you'd enjoy it. Who knows. Either way, he loved your friendship, and friends could do this kind of thing for each other… right??

~~~~~

Throughout the day, you paced your house before finally leaving with Skipper in tow. "We gotta get some air, buddy. I'm losing it over here," you said while clipping his leash.

Stepping out of the house, you two went for a long walk, circled back toward home, and plopped down on your lawn. The house still felt too small in preparation for this evening, whatever it was. Why does it feel different anyway? It's just another phone call..? Unless….

Truth be told, while Pedro had his secret plans, you also had some of your own. Whether you followed through with them or not was up to your nerves.

After some sunbathing with your pup, you both head inside. The sun was starting to set, and you realized it was getting closer to the meetup time you chose with Pedro.

_____

6 PM.

You stared at the TV, not really absorbing anything on the screen, but needing a distraction. This afternoon you opted for a show that Pedro was not in. For once, you needed to not see his handsome face. You needed something else. Half paying attention while picking at a hangnail, you jump out of your skin at the sight of your phone lighting up. Pedro texted.

"Picking out my outfit for tonight! Always important to look nice for celebration."

Shit… he's not coming over is he?! That's why he wanted my address?!

"Wait…" you pondered how to phrase your question without sounding like a panicked asshole, when all you wanted to say was "what the fuck do you MEAN!?!"

I'm not dressed. I'm in sweats and covered in dog hair. I don't have makeup on. Oh no.

"Wait… is that why you wanted my address?"

"Oh. Nooo, no no. No, sweet girl, don't worry. I'm not coming over unexpectedly and interrupting your hiding place. I just think it's still important to dress nice."

"Oh..Okay.."

It was around 6:15 when he texted a picture of himself wearing a white button up with a dark blue suit and matching tie. He wore dark-frame glasses and his hair was slightly tamed, but still showed his messy curls. He looked gorgeous.

But as you scanned his body you noticed that instead of dress shoes, he wore a pair of polka dot socks. He had a goofy grin and his one eyebrow was cocked. You grinned.

"All dressed up and nowhere to go," he said.

"You're a goof, P. But I appreciate the effort."

A pause.

"Also, you look really handsome" you nervously hit send before you had a chance to chicken out.

Bold. Probably shouldn't have said that. But hey, friends compliment each other.

"Why thank you. A big accomplishment like this requires all the stops."

He timed this message right to the minute. As you read his text, your doorbell rang.

You opened the door to find two boxes. One large, one small. A delivery boy was getting into his car. 

"Delivery from your biggest fan. 

-❤️, P"

He… he sent me some kind of care package?? And put a heart? And said he's my biggest fan?

You squealed and carried the boxes into the house. "What's this!?" You texted Pedro.

"Open them and see!"

You immediately open them. Inside the larger box was a variety of items. The first thing you noticed was a small vase holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. To the right of that was a bag, which you opened and found your favorite meal, from your favorite restaurant. 

Wow, this is elaborate. 

Below the food was another small bag holding your favorite dessert, and finally to the left, your favorite drink.

I can't believe he remembered all of my favorite things.. This is so thoughtful.

When you moved the flower vase, you noticed one more small item. Is that a… corsage?? You texted Pedro the question.

"Yep!" He sent, with a photo of a matching flower on his lapel.

Remembering you still had the small box, you opened the box flaps, wondering what could possibly be left for him to give you. On top of it was another note.

"For a handsome boy.

- ❤️, your mom's friend, Pedro"

Under the note was a jar of peanut butter, a squeaky anchor toy, and…? What's this?

You unwrap a small paper wrapping to find a dog-sized black bowtie. Shut up.

"SKIPPER!!! Look what Pedro gave you, buddy!"

He padded over to you and let you hook the dressy accessory around his neck. With the clip adjusted, he sat back, looking proud of his new fashion. You quickly snapped a picture and texted it to Pedro.

"I can't believe you did all this, Pedro. Not only did you send all this, but you remembered my favorite things? You remembered all the details from when I first met Skipper. My favorite food, dessert, drink, and flower? That's so sweet, this is all too much Pedro..  Nobody has ever done anything like this for me. I.. I don't even know what to say."

You're amazing and I love you. Is what I want to say.

"You're welcome." He texted back. "Like I said, you deserve a celebration. Plus…"

Pedro sent a photo of his table, set up with the same food and drink, with the caption "now it's like we're having a dinner party."

It was nearing the time to meet, but you still had to do one more thing. You had pondered it earlier in the day, but fully decided it when Pedro sent the photo of himself dressed up. It's now or never.

_____

6:45 PM.

Pedro sat waiting for a reply after he sent his dinner photo. It had only been a couple minutes, but his hands were sweaty and his leg was shaking under the table. Finally, his phone went off. You sent… a video?

He opened it and pressed play. There, he saw you rotating your wrist with the corsage on it. The first time he's ever seen your wrist, hand, or arm before. The first time he's even seen your skin tone.

Geez you act like you're in the Victorian ages, pull yourself together, he rolled his eyes at himself for being so overjoyed.

Next, the video panned to Skipper in his bowtie, looking handsome as ever. The camera zoomed in on him and he looked up into the view with his big brown eyes. 

And then…

The camera panned to the side, and showed a mirror. A full length mirror, where you stood. He scanned your body from your perfectly done up hair and makeup, down your body to your dress. You wore your favorite dress, (in your favorite color, he noted) which showed off your body in the best ways. He looked down to the floor and noticed that you too were wearing fun socks instead of shoes. You wore a pair of striped socks and wrote in your caption "all dressed up and nowhere to go."

His heart picked up and he could feel himself breathing unevenly. He finally saw you. And you were gorgeous. He couldn't help the smile that enveloped his face.

Fuck. She's beautiful… I'm screwed. 

She loves someone else. She loves someone else. She loves someone else. Forget your feelings.

Despite his struggle, he knew he wanted, and needed, to tell you how beautiful he thought you looked. This was a big step to show yourself, and he also knew how self-conscious you felt about your body.

"Wow, you're so beautiful."

You blushed, replying with a quick thank you with a heart, then sending a second message asking if he was ready to listen. The video wasn't the only trick you had planned up your sleeve tonight.

______

The clock turned to 7 PM and Pedro hit the dial for your number. You answered the phone and said a quick "hang on" to set up the shared listening party link for your album. Once sent, you took a deep breath and steadied your nerves. Then, you took the plunge.

"Okay I got the link! I'm so exci - what - wait, is this an accident?" Pedro's hand fumbled as he received your incoming video chat request, his heart picking up to a galloping pace.

"Nope! You can answer it. If you want.."

He quickly swiped the accept button and there you were. Clad in your favorite dress, sitting at a table with the meal he sent in front of you. He could see himself in the corner square, dressed in his suit, with nearly the identical table setup and food.

He couldn't help but notice on his own video screen that his cheeks were turning rosy and his mouth curled into a large smile. But he was too happy to be shy about his blush.

"So this is you," he said.

"This is me," you replied shyly, but still with a huge smile and blush plastered on your face, matching Pedro's.

"You look.." he sighed shakily "..wow.."

"You look pretty wow yourself there," you said with a shy giggle.

Both of you let out gentle laughs, feeling a warm glow as your stomachs felt matching butterflies of nerves, excitement, and… maybe something else.

"So should we listen, I guess?" You asked nervously.

He didn't answer. He was looking at the screen, eyes scanning the video. 

Is he blushing? You wondered. But why would he be? He doesn't like me back… right?

He still hadn't answered you when you finally said "Pedro?? Did you hear me?"

He snapped out of it, somehow turning more crimson. "Oh! Sorry… yeah! Let's listen."

Your nerves were off the charts. Some of these songs were so vulnerable. The ones at the end of the album were the most telling of all.

But as the two of you ate your dinners while listening to your new album, you began to relax. The night was filled with him giving praise and you giving background information on the meanings and production of the songs. 

"Are all the different instruments and harmonies played by you?"

"They are! The studio offered studio musicians but I had originally played them all when I wrote it and wanted to keep it a one woman show."

"You're incredible," Pedro said, shaking his head.

You blushed, for the billionth time today.

When it came to "Imaginary Love" Pedro grinned. "Hey I know this one! The one that started it all." 

"Yep!" You agreed and he began lip syncing to the lyrics dramatically. Little did he know, those lyrics were actually about him. You giggled as he acted out a soulful rendition of the chorus.

"You know, this whole journey has been a real rollercoaster and there have been times I've wished I hadn't posted that song..."

Pedro looked at you with that puppy dog look of his and you continued "but then I remember… that if I never posted it, I would've never started talking to you, and it makes it all worth it."

Pedro placed his hand on his heart and pouted his lip. "I agree. I'm glad to have met you. If I didn't love this song already, that alone would be enough reason for me to consider it one of my favorites.

You grinned and looked down at the table, suddenly feeling shy. The two of you continued to listen, having long finished your dinner. Conversation flowed easily, and you couldn't help but feel like you were on a date. Not that you had much experience with that, but from what you'd seen in movies and shows, this felt very date-like. And you didn't want it to end.

But as the album went on, you approached the last two songs. The ones you were scared of most. The most vulnerable of the album. 

The second to last began to play.

'It's hard to imagine craving something that I've never had.

Dumb to be so desperate for something I've gone without.

But when I'm alone and thinking to myself, I need it so bad.

I crave it like a drug, but one I know nothing about.

Your kiss on my lips, or any kiss at all.

It hasn't happened yet, no matter how hard I fall.

The years keep passing, but still no love.

The years go by, but still no kisses.

I keep wondering and praying up above,

I guess I'm unkissable, despite my wishes.'

Pedro furrowed his brow, looking at you, searching for something. He read the title of the song, "Unkissable," and looked up again, opening and closing his mouth to find the right words.

"Do-" he stopped himself and pondered his wording again. "Is- are all these songs true?"

You stared at the table, picking your nail against the wood. "Yes."

"You really believe that?"

"... I mean… I don't know… maybe… I guess…" you avoided his gaze, but could feel it.

"And you've never-"

"Kissed anyone before? No. I haven't."

"But you've wanted to?"

"Yes," you whispered, starting to feel tears prick at your eyes.

Pedro shifted his lips to the side in thought before finally saying "well… you're still young. It'll happen."

"I'm 26, Pedro. Most people have kissed by the time they've graduated high school. I just… missed the boat I guess. It's okay. I'm just being silly. I don't want it that bad. We can maybe listen to something else now."

"Hey, hey. Don't shut down on me," he asked pleadingly. "26 is still very young, and don't worry about whenever everyone else has done things. Everyone does things at their own pace. I'm sorry you haven't experienced it yet, especially when you want it so badly, but I know that when it does happen, it'll probably be better than any kiss you would've had with some 15 year old boy you would've had in high school."

You laughed, breaking your tears for a minute. "Thanks Pedro."

"Of course. And hey, don't think of yourself as unkissable. Any guy should be so lucky to be with you. Maybe the guy you wrote about in your song will be your first."

"Maybe… I hope so. Thank you."

While your heart bloomed at the kind words and prospect of maybe kissing Pedro in the future, Pedro's heart began to ache. Not only was he sad for you when you wanted love so desperately, but he also couldn't help but feel sad hearing you want to kiss another man. He wants to be that guy for you. He wasn't joking when he said any man would be lucky. But especially knowing now your true age, 22 years younger than him, he knew for sure your crush couldn't be him. You were way too young to be interested in a 48 year old man. He was silly for even entertaining the idea.

But at least he had a new friend. And as he thought longer, he thought about his best friend Sarah, and her relationship. They have a huge age gap, 32 years, but they're happy. And he's happy for her. It doesn't feel weird with them. Could he have that with you? Or is he in over his head?

The last song on the album began to play. This one was less vulnerable, but if he decided to look at the lyrics and notice patterns, he'd see it in the chorus. 

'People have a lot to say

Everyone loves or hates me

Don't know what I did today

Right now you're all I can see

Only want to be with you.

Please, love me too.'

You're sure the obsessive listeners will figure out the acrostic, and if Pedro looks up the lyrics, he might too. But either way, it's out there. All you can do is hope for the best and eventually you're sure it'll come out anyway.

 This wasn't one you were sure about putting on the album, but when the studio read through your personal songbook, they went insane over it. They figured it out quickly, and they promised they'd keep it to themselves. Luckily they have so far, but if money came calling, you think they'd sell your heart faster than you could say no.

The song, and album, came to a close and Pedro looked up at the screen once again, staring into your eyes. "Once again your music has blown me away."

Whether he put together the end or not, he wasn't letting on.

"Thank you Pedro. I really appreciate it. And thank you for tonight. It was truly special and I mean it when I say it's the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me. You didn't have to go through all that trouble," you said thoughtfully.

"It was no trouble. You deserve congratulations for your album," Pedro replied with a smile.

Right.. it's just a congratulations. Nothing else. You sighed.

"Thank you. I'm really glad we did this. Talk again soon?" You asked.

"Absolutely. It was wonderful to meet you finally," Pedro said, finishing the sentence with your real name and smiling.

"It was great to meet you too, Pedro."

__________

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you for reading.

Looking for more? Next chapter!

Taglist: (Want in? Let me know!)

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02 @lightupsketchersperson @cartoon-garbage04 @tyferbebe @maryfanson @gwendibleywrites @faithfullyyours2000 @brilliantopposite187 @hc-geralt-23 @jenniferpendragon @winchestergypsy90 @red-red-rogue @theendwhereibegin @lottieellz101 @oliversaurus @kyga01 @milly-louise @titabel @taz-97

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x you #a! wrote a fic #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal x afab!reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x musician!reader #pedro pascal x plus sized! reader #pedro pascal x y/n #rpf #key to your heart

[thebananwithaplan]

Out of the blue are a pair of dice, thrown in the area of the pumpkinana! Were those striped snakes slithering in them? Gross! Along with the dice echoed a cackling voice. "Can't host a game show without some dice to roll! It's on the house! Comes with extra bite too!" By the way the snakes were snapping, there's no doubt about that.

.... That sure are a pair of dice with tiny snakes slithering through them. Totally friendly! And hopefully NOT venomous!

Yeah. He should be fine from that. Those aren't regular venom fangs. Phew!

. "Oooh, free dice and free pets!" It's a good thing he's always wearing white gloves, as he's able to pick up the skull dice without getting too horribly bitten. A shame that his gameshow is more of the 'press a button to say your answer' type rather than the 'spin the wheel/casino style' type...

Oh well. Banana might have a use for these dice and his new little friends inside of them in some way or another. Thanks, mysterious cackling voice!

. "I'm gonna name you two 'Dicey' and 'Bitey' ! " Oh. He's already named them. Hope nobody intended on taking them back from him....

Maybe don't give away snakes to the guy who keeps on being associated with them if the idea was to scare him.

#anonymous #ask #appeeling show host (dancing banana) #event: spooky smashing fun #(( Snake eyes!))

[azergyne]

SMG4 tv man

saw a few more clips from SmG4's TV man special which is it's new name in my head and honestly after smg4 said "why are you doing this to us" and it zooms in on mr boxy, it should just said on his screen and the screens around him ENTERTAINMENT, it would have been alot of unnerving then a freaking musical number, or just bust out a omega flowey laugh, just to be more menacing, because the complete silence as it zooms in is really good,

this one scene has more tension then your avrege horror movie instead of sticking with this menecing aura he has going on they mess it up

this frame as well looks so good, kinda reminds me of omega floweys shadow thing, and honestly even thoguh i have zero context for any other part of the movie they really could have gone with a sadistic gameshow type deal since there in his head, they should not be able to die. this man had so much potentiol and his backstory honestly could work if it was not had no friends and instead was, brainwashed or somthing maybe the reason he cut off his head and put a TV in it's place was because of some larger power at play don't get me wrong the musical number is great but it could have been better with a better backstory.

THIS it's so good the puppet astetic would work so well if they used it more in his character ARC.

#smg4 #smg4 tv adware

[tickling-giggles]

Hello!!! Would you mind writing a fic where korosensei is tickling karasuma? (No foot tickles please), thank you so much!!

C’mon just smile

A/N: Hiiii anonnie✨!! Sure thing no problemo🤭 I got this joke from one of my moots 😭😭@randomratty

Lee: Karasuma

Ler: Korosensei

———————————————————————-

Korosensei was walking to the storage room putting up all of chemistry sets. He has been thinking of what his students had said earlier.

12:03-Lunch time/Planning period

The students were asking one and another their first impressions of the teachers. “Hey Nagisa, what did you first think of Mr. Karasuma?” Nakamura asked. “Well I thought he was one of those mean but cool bad ass spies you see in movies but now I think he’s a pretty cool class dad” Nagisa smiled.

“Yeah, even though it’s hard to tell when he’s having a good time or not” Kayano agreed adding on. “I don’t think the man have ever cracked a smile” Karma bluntly said. “Now that you say that, he’s never smiled at all” Kanzaki realized.

“Professor Bitch have you ever seen Mr.Karasuma laugh or smile?” Maehara asked seeing her pass by. “Actually….no now that I think about it— but I almost made him laugh before” Irina answered.

Back to the present

Karasuma checking and putting in grades as he heard two knocks on the door “Come in”. “Oh it’s just you game show” he looked out of the corner of his eye.

“Still refuse to call me an actual name I see” Korosensei rolled his bead eyes. “You know it”

“Anyways… you wanna hear a joke” Korosensei beamed. “Uh sure why not” Karasuma shrugged his shoulders giving korosensei his complete attention.

“Okay why did the chicken cross the road?” Korosensei asked. “To get to the other side?” Karasuma answered confused. “No to get to the idiots house, knock knock” Korosensei corrected. “Who’s there?” Karasuma sighed still confused. “THE CHICKEN AHAHAHAHA OHO Gahahd that’s funny” Korosensei burst into laughter. “Do you get it?” He asked. “Yeah I do it just wasn’t funny” Karasuma shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh c’mon!! maybe your happy wire is disconnected from your brain” korosensei whined. “That’s logically impossible” Karasuma raised his eyebrow.

“Awww Karasumaaaa Do you need a hugggggg? Korosensei cooed before he scooped him from out of his chair. “No! I don’t gameshow now put me dOhoWn!” Karasuma flailed around, he let out a giggle when korosensei’s tentacles held his side a bit too tight.

“…what was that?” Korosensei paused his hugging. “Did— did you just giggle” korosensei seemed intrigued. “N-no damn it, now would you put me down?” Karasuma slightly blushed. “Sure I will…after I figured out what made you giggle” Korosensei observed every inch of Karasuma before squeezing both of his sides. “GAhahA stAhp” Karasuma jolted.

“Oh my gosh your ticklish? Your ticklish” Korosensei chuckled in joy. “I-I am not n-now put me down” he demanded not looking him in the eye. “Okay okay I will… once you laugh” Korosensei snickered before he scribbled at his sides.

“Stahap ihit” Karasuma tried hushing his giggles. “Oooh playing tough guy now huh?” Korosensei grinned, as green strips appeared on him. “Knohock it ohoff” “hmmm no let’s move up a little” he refused as he moved up to his ribs. “NAh noho stohop” Karasuma with his free hand he covered his mouth. “Aww but you haven’t even laughed yet your just giggling your head off.” Korosensei teased, as he moved down to his hips.

“Ohohokahahay ihihi’m lahahaughing nohow” “hmm I think you should really laugh, and how dare you hide your smile from me ” Korosensei pouted. "GaHahHah yo-yoUhohou suhuHuck ahahaAHt tihicKlihIng"Karasuma sassed, laughing trying to push his tentacles away from his hips.

“See look at that charming smiling you should how it more often” he teased.

“NohOhoohohOhoHo”

“No? Are you telling me no? Well I korosensei shall not be told no laugh thee say” Korosensei dramatically gasped before shoving his tentacles up his armpits.

“FUHUHUHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!! STAHAHAHAHAP!!!” He screamed.

“Not until you agree to smile more often” korosensei teased.

“STAHAHAHAP, I’LL SMIHIHILE MOHOHOHOHORE!!” He yelled in defeat.

“Good, see you tomorrow”

#kiara answers #anon ask #fic request #tickle fic #tickle drabble #assclass tickle fic #assclass tickle drabble #assclass tickle #lee!Karasuma #ler!korosensei

[thanatoastie]

Artemis: dad, I'm ace

Zeus: OH COME ON, WHY DON'T I HAVE ONE STRAIGHT CHILD?

Hephaestus: Zeus, I-

Zeus: ONE WHO IS NOT A DISAPPOINTMENT

Ares: well, -

Zeus: AND THAT I ACTUALLY ACKNOWLEDGE AS MY CHILD

#part 18483884 of Zeus being a douche #hey that rhymes! #maybe it should be a gameshow name #greek gods #greek myth memes #greek mythology #incorrect greek gods #incorrect quotes #mythology #greek mythology shit post #incorrect greek mythology #text posts #lore olympus #blood of zeus #boz #pjo #percy jackson #hadestowm #hades game

[justalarryblog]

Dinner Date by @pinky-heaven19 / pinky_heaven19 (3k) | Not Rated

“Sorry, what are you doing?” Louis managed to say, looking at him with his head cocked to the side, trying his best to sound more polite than intrusive.

“I'm on a date, apparently,” Harry replied with a smile so big that a dimple appeared on his cheek. Fuck. “I was at the bar and saw you here alone. People were giving you weird looks and I thought it wouldn't hurt to come here and pretend to be your date.”

OR the one where Louis gets stood up by his date and Harry comes to help him.

I Feel Safe With You by @comebackassholes / dimpled_halo (3k) | Explicit

Hey Marcel,

We’re definitely still on for tonight. Thanks for the information. I’ll keep it in mind when planning the scene for tonight.

I’ll see you soon,

Louis

Marcel bites his lip and checks the time. Only a few more hours before Louis comes over. It almost feels like the first time, but instead of anxiety, it’s all nervous anticipation. The last two scenes have been everything Marcel could ever ask for so he can only imagine what Louis will come up with today.

Part 3 of Dom Louis

may we all have a vision now and then by @gaycousinlarry / momentofclarity (4k) | Mature

On a cold December night, Louis meets Harry for the first time.

I Like It Better When It Hurts by @comebackassholes / dimpled_halo (6k) | Explicit

Dear Mr. Louis,

Hello. I’m Harry. I got your contact from a good friend of mine and was wondering if I can get your services. My 30th birthday is coming up and all I’ve ever wanted is to get spanked, maybe more?

If you’re interested, please contact me. I’d love to hear from you.

Sincerely,

Harry

Marcel reads over the words. He guesses there isn’t a much better way to ask for what he needs. He almost changes the name again but decides Harry is fine. It’s generic and nothing that can be traced to him. At least he doesn’t think so. Okay, he’s overthinking again so he clicks the send button before he can talk himself out of it. His heart races as soon as he does. He almost wants to take it back, figure out a way to undo it, but he takes a big gulp of his wine to calm down.

It’s fine. This is fine. He can do this.

Part 1 of Dom Louis

Kiss Me Again, You Fool by @wabadabadaba (6k) | Mature

“Louis, you’re cuter than a button. Will you be my valentine? Hm, no,” Marcel scowls. “It is true but no. ‘I love you a latte!’ But wait, does he drink coffee? Only sometimes so that doesn’t make sense.”

Marcel sticks his tongue out as he ices three more cookies.

“I go bananas for you,” Marcel giggles. “That’s cute, but not sophisticated enough. He’s the best designer on our floor, he deserves something better. ‘Right from the start, you stole my heart?’ No, I don’t want to scare him off. I should probably just speak from the heart, that’s always what mom says. But then Gemma says that’s lame, I don’t knooow,” Marcel groans.

or the one where Marcel has a huge crush on his coworker, Louis, and decides Valentine's Day is the day to put himself out there.

Love Is a Winning Game by @all-these-larrythings / Rearviewdreamer (47k) | Mature

Before their broken engagement, Harry had his head stuck so far in the clouds that he doesn’t even remember entering him and Louis for something as crazy as a couple's gameshow until a series of bad, post-breakup decisions puts Harry in the awkward position of needing the help of his ex-fiancé to try and fix the mess he has made.

Submarine from Hell by reader_chic_2 (76k) | Mature

I understand there are no heat/rut rooms and will not experience rut/heat for my time of service and up to two weeks after. I understand I will not let my gender interfere with my service and will follow the captain without question relating to my service and/or issues with my gender.

X____________________________________

. . .

Aka when Louis and Harry are the first omega and alpha, respectively, to become submariners, they have to find a way to survive lethally too strong suppressants while being forced to live in confined quarters with each others. In a submarine among betas, they decide to risk their blind noses by stopping all suppressants, but eventually, they must find a way to survive their heat and ruts, all while not getting killed in combat.

technicolor by @creamcoffeelou (81k) | Explicit

When the small town of Twin Lakes begins experiencing a string of serial murders, a team of detectives is called in to help. Louis is the head of the team and meets a hard-headed psychic who everyone else seems to believe is the one who will solve the case.

Louis isn't so sure.

OR

The slow-burn, hate-to-love, crime au where Harry is a psychic, Louis is a detective, and the world is against them.

The Woods are Lovely, Dark and Deep Series by @helloamhere (128k) | Teen And Up Audiences / Mature

Louis was a monster. But sometimes, even monsters get a Christmas.

🗓️ January Fic Rec 🗓️ February Fic Rec

Here is my tag for my Monthly Fic Rec and here are my fic tags! 💖

#monthly fic rec #march fic rec #fic rec #hlcreators #hlupdate #hljournal #tracksintheam #trackinghome #trackinghappily

[coyotevallie]

cecil kanagawa as a sympathetic antagonist

ok u kno what . i should not suggest a cecil arc and not explain how i would write it if i were making a cecil arc . so i will do that now . in GREAT detail

kanagawa productions is being bought out by northstar which is mentioned in the show . i think itd be VERY interesting if min managed to gaslight girlboss gmurder her way to the top of that and take control of the company, putting her in an even more powerful position than before

cecil's the star of course, he's always been the moneymaker of the family, and min takes Advantage of that - with the rest of his family out of commission, cecil has to work three times as hard to make up for it, and min makes Sure he knows this

that leaves him frazzled and stressed and tired all the time, which makes him far more easily manipulated, whereas prior to murderous mask he was fairly oblivious to how codependent their relationship was but would still find ways around it like swapping with cass, he pretty much just does whatever she says

min is perfectly poised to expand and gain power over all of mars and even more . theres only one problem . rex glass and juno steel are still Out there and when shes gotten this far she's not going to let a possible problem go

so she track them down . she finds out nureyev's full name and she Eventually gets a Vague idea of where juno is

but min doesnt do the dirty work . shes not going to hunt someone down Herself, thats not her style . so Cecil does

he definitely doesnt know the full plan id think ,,,, one of his prime character traits throughout murderous mask Is his obliviousness (not realizing juno doesnt wanna go on his show, not realizing junos accusing him of murder for a VERY long time, not even knowing His Dad Died) and i think that would carry through to an arc with him, min tells him that she wants him to get them on a show again for the ratings or smt and he dorsnt quedtion it

so its basically this thing of cecil trying to EXTRAHHHHVAGANTLY kill our protags on live tv . its a very fun antag that makes the most of the fact that hes a Glamorous Gameshow Host and he poses a genuine threat and does some fucked up things, maybe he kidnaps one of junos friends and/or a member of the carte blanche as ransom. hes a PROPER antag

but at points that mask sort of drops ,, we see moments where cecil is genuinely scared, where that complete disregard for his own life is portrayed more darkly, and it becomes increasingly clear everything hes doing is for mins sake and not his own

like maybe at the beginning juno and everyone thinks cecil was lying about juno being his best friend and he actually Does hold a grudge ?? playing into junos paranoia maybe ?? but we see that he was Not lying and juno really Is his best friend in his eyes and this is a product of manipulation

i think he could also be a kinda cool parallel for nureyev ?? smt about identity issues . nureyev has identity problems because nobody knows anything about him and cecil has identity issues because everyone does and his entire life is a movie and his entire personality is a character . smt like that . cecil tells nureyev that he pities him for how unknown he is for how nobody even knows his NAME thats pathetic everyone knows who the great cecil kanagawa is and the underlying vibe is that hes jealous of reyevs anonymity 

and DEFINITELY do more with his relationship with juno . WAY more . does juno have any warm feelings for him or is it genuinely all frustration and annoyance !!! for either of these, does cecil realize this !!!! expand on the fact that cecil sees him as his best friend . expand on their history together . does cecil have a thing for juno and why is the answer yes? idk where it would go but theres a lot of interesting drama there

and REALLY build up on his feelings on his sister. does he miss her? does he feel betrayed that she killed their dad? do they still talk on comms? do they not and how do they feel about that? i definitely think they should bring cass back too u cant do a cecil arc without a cass arc but im focusin on this mostly

speaking of parallels . consider: cecil is a parallel for both juno and benten at once. this is a post for another day this is already too long but its a concept i have and i think they should do something with

i dont Quite know how it would end ,,,, theres a lot of diff ways it could go . im gonna go with the redemption arc ending and the tragic ending bc theyr the biggest ones that come to mind . both of them have min die because its deserved

REDEMPTION ARC . as we learn more about cecil throughout juno learns more too, realizing that this isnt what cecil Wants its what he Has To Have . cass kills min and its DESERVED and cecil is shattered he’s beyond betrayed i dont think he knows that cass was set up yet here ,,,, so hes incredibly incredibly angry and sad and hurt and he feels like cass is ruining his life and this is his Low point. but juno brings cecil to the carte blanche and cecil slowly heals, he unlearns all the fucked up shit being a kanagawa taught him and his relationship with cass slowly begins to heal . i think itd be cute if they made him and junos relationship more friendly too (: do smt with the fact that junos Very clearly cecils favorite and make him learn how to be someones friend normally . maybe have a jealousy thing with him and reyev bc cecils into juno . MAKE HIM FRIENDS WITH RITA i feel strongly about this they should be tech besties who goss about juno . just fun redemptiony stuff (:

or .... alternatively

TRAGIC MORALLY GREY ENDING . theres a lot of ways this could go but essentially cecil dies before he GETS that redemption . he goes out killing min because he found out that shes the one who killed his dad and all the comfort she’d provided him in his grief was fake . his last move is to kill min and he never Quite makes amends with juno and we have an arc where juno has to think about the fact that cecil tried to kill him hundreds of times over but he genuinely did really care about him and juno will never be able to see him again. how does he feel about that

idrk which one i prefer i think the redemption has more potential but the morally grey one is more realistic i think . but either way

in conclusion: BRING THE KANAGAWAS BACK . NOW

#rambling about him again . constant state of being #cecil kanagawa #cassandra kanagawa #juno steel #peter nureyev #min kanagawa #the penumbra podcast #tpp #tpp meta

[hotxcheeto]

Heyy, could you write about "you and chloe meeting for the first time" thanks in advance<3

━ 𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐄 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Chloe Price x G/N!Reader 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing (it's Chloe lmao), talk of a low will to live (joke)

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - I didn't know if you wanted headcanons or not but I had this idea and in my head it was pretty coolio. I hope you like it :) Thank you for the request!

First day of Blackwell, and you already hated it. Some were nice, some were not so nice. But now you were walking to the parking lot, where your crappy car was.

It would barely start this morning causing you to nearly be late and get a nice look from your first teacher. She was kind... kind of an ass. You huffed, walking towards your car, a truck beside it taking up three different parking spots.

"Moron." You thought to yourself, unlocking your door and getting inside. You stuck the key in the ignition and turned. Nothing but noise. "C'mon you piece of crap." You did it a few more times before banging on your steering wheel and getting out of your car putting your hands on your head.

"God... dang it!" You kicked the bumper and went to pull your phone out of your pocket, only to find that it had died. "Are you joking?" You whined looking up at the car before leaning against the handicapped sign that was for the spot beside yours. You collapsed beside it and leaned your head against the pole looking at the sky.

"You good?" You hummed at the voice, shaking your head. "Nope." You muttered, resting your arms on your knees. "Who died?" "My will to live." You heard her chuckle, but you couldn't even smile. You slowly turned your head to look at her, meeting her eyes as she stopped moving.

"My car broke down and my phone is dead. I'm broke, so no tow. So yes, today is the funeral for my existence." You examined her face as she leaned against the truck. Her eyes were pretty, along with the electric blue hair she sported. You turned away as your face heated up, staring forward once again.

"Fuck man. That is shitty." You laughed slightly before shrugging. "Sorry." "You're fine." "How far away do you live?" You turned to look at her again, the girl awkwardly shifting where she stood. "Like an hour from here. I can't get into my damn dorm until next week." She nodded and looked away, scratching the back of her neck.

"I know, I'm a fucking mess." "A hot mess." She muttered but you heard her, a light laugh passing your lips as you looked away. Your face heating up. "Shit." "It's okay, my name is y/n. If it isn't obvious, I'm new here." "Chloe." You smiled and looked away, staring forward as you decided on what you should do next.

"Do you have a phon-" "I can give you a rid-" You both spoke at the same time, both of you bashfully looking away. Letting out awkward laughter. "You don't mind?" She shook her head, smirking a bit as she gestured to the truck. Like a girl on a gameshow "It's a piece of shit, but it runs."

Chloe looked at your car. She bet to herself that if she looked inside she'd know what was wrong.

"You know anything about cars?" You stood up, wiping your pants off. "Fuck yeah, they're great. My dad..." You smiled. "Have any idea what's causing that?" She laughed a bit before shrugging.

"I have no idea." "Maybe it's fate, Chloe." "Fate?" You walked to the truck and looked it over before nodding. "Yeah, because to me, everything happens for a reason. Like the butterfly effect."

She nodded and then smiled. "Yeah, maybe. Or maybe your some axe murdering lunatic that's gonna murder me." "Yeah, maybe." You laughed, opening the door while she shook her head. "Fuck. I knew it!" You grinned, the day beginning to look up.

And funny enough, once you dragged your dad down to your car.

It started, just like that.

Maybe it was fate.

A/n: Hee hee

#chloe x reader #chloe price #chloe price x reader #chloe #life is strange x reader #life is strange #lis #dontnod #nevy writes

[thatguy-thisguy-yourguy]

Lily/Adrian Fanfic! Get it here!

While you're at it, read the lovely fanfics written by people whose Tumblrs I don't know!

Here is the Fic below too! Inspired by https://soundcloud.com/zalinki/go-the-distance-feat-rosarrie

“We might not see the future, but you’re always on my mind.”

Adrian and Lily’s relationship wasn’t surprising in the way you thought it’d be. No huge dork suddenly meeting the manic pixie dream girl of a lifetime in the halls. No notes stuck to lockers or putting up dukes to defend a fair maiden’s honor. Lily wasn’t a fair maiden to be, well, fair. She was blonde, but what’s so fair about a little genetic mutation?

Adrian was a huge dork. Never so much as coughed during a class, writing so fast that it was a wonder how the palms of his hands didn’t somehow develop abs. He never really went out of his way to make friends, which as we all know, screams bloody murder “Dork!” But, you had to give the guy credit-he hadn’t bought a fedora and never would! 

Maybe in some ways, Lily was some sort of manic pixie dream girl. A panic mixie gream dirl, if you will. She smoked, she’d steal an animal, but that was very moral of her. And she had eyes for that dork we’ve established.

The relationship started with Lily, as you may suspect. Honestly, she just thought he was smart enough to be a contestant on a gameshow called “who’s gonna be my lab partner?” Generic, but nothing to complain about. From then on, she’d just kind of be around, not that Adrian was complaining. He never considered a relationship, not even when Lily would make up excuses-or ask him quite bluntly-to hang out on weekends, but that’s just not the type of person Eventually, she just became a staple in Adrian’s life, sticking around for any shenanigans he and Jim(usually Jim) would come up with. 

Eventually, however, she decided that she thought she might love this boy that we’ve hyped up so much. 

It had to be around 11:25, chemistry, how fitting. Lily wasn’t one for the whole “do you like me” note, nor did she want to jump Adrian to ask him about their obviously developing relationship. That might as well be threatening him. Instead, Lily wrote down something very simple, that she figured wasn’t anything so special that she’d regret it.

She wrote:

“I think we should stay in each other’s lives”

And she gave it to him. And he read it. And he smiled.

Which brings us to the now.

Adrian and Lily had been together for some unspecified time. At this time, they were in Adrian’s room, which was so tidy, it might’ve been suspicious, but Lily didn’t care. She’d been in here a few times by now, very few. Adrian didn’t really like people in his house, let alone his room. 

For a few hours they talked about nothing and everything: graduation plans, their future together, names they would have got if they had not had their own, religion, how alcohol being cheaper than non-alcoholic drinks may be so people will keep quiet about their problems, rats. 

During those few hours of nothing, whilst in the middle of what the youngin’s would call “a cuddle sesh”, Adrian got up. Then, Lily got up, giving him a quizzical look and asking, 

“Did I do something wrong?” 

Adrian pulled out a blue notebook, one Lily hadn’t seen amongst the millions of other ones he brought to class. He sat back down next to her, and Lily could clearly see the word “FEELINGS” scrawled across it.

“I think you should see me.”

“But I do see you, dorko.”

A poke in the nose. A kiss.

“Yeah, but to see me the way you let people see you, just, you know,” He held up the notebook, giving it a light slap, “compact.”

Lily sat quiet. Moments of true, emotional intimacy were rare when initiated by Adrian. So, together, they looked through it once.

#the prescription zine #will wood #the prescription #adrian crick #i hope the keep reading thing worked #zalinkis new track is so fire #fanfic

[sleepysailorjunko]

Sunshine and Scars

It has been a long time since Christine Royce was at peace. True, Elijah's death had relieved her of her duty, but to be at ease in the Sierra Madre was to die.

Christine had been glad to see the Courier. How strange, that her life had been so affected by couriers. She owed a lot to the couriers of the Mojave. Did the Mojave Express accept payment for life debts twice over?

She had spent part of the long and dangerous journey to the Mojave trying to put how they felt towards Antietam into words, so they would know how deeply grateful she was. Only, she hadn't needed to.

The Courier had grabbed her hand, ostensibly to pull her out of harm's way. After, their grip loosened, leaving Christine free to remove her hand. Instead, she tightened her grip. That was how they had returned to the Mojave, hand in hand.

The Courier had described their friends as they walked to Antietam's home. They spoke so kindly, so affectionately of their friends. It made Christine half-jealous and half-curious to see how she would be described.

Perhaps as a broken knight who passed off their duty to a courier like it was a mere package. Christine thinks that for a second, and then hates herself for it. The Courier would never speak of them like that.

Antietam had no obligation to return to the Madre for her, but they did anyway. They wouldn't have come for her if they saw her like that.

The Courier gently dances around the topic of Veronica, not trying to overwhelm or guilt Christine into seeing her before she felt ready. She was not at hotel Antietam had brought them to, but a man of equivalent height to the Courier was. He seemed greatly relieved to see the Courier, who hugged him tightly.

"Just like last time, huh?" He said, wrapping his arms around Antietam. He looked down at the Courier fondly, and then leveled a less fond look to Christine. "You and your friend make it back okay?"

The Courier let go of the man and stood back.

"Yeah. Everything okay here?"

"Yeah. Mostly just waiting for you and shooting legionaries."

"Ha, wish I'd been here."

The Courier's strength seemed to sap as they recognize they were in friendly territory. This is their home, Christine realized, and then thought that they had brought her without evaluating the threat she posed as a Knight.

She knew that she could not return to duty as a Knight. She had been through too much and the Brotherhood would not be the home she left. Still, perhaps she and the courier would visit, if only for the hilarity of Antietam passing for a paladin.

They rested in a hotel room that night. The way Antietam moved showed their familiarity with the room, if the key they had brandished and their belongings spread throughout the room didn't. Christine thought she saw the jumpsuit the Courier had worn in the Sierra Madre peaking out of a cupboard.

That was one thing Christine had learned of her friend-their insatiable need to pick things up, from checkerboards to boxes of abraxo. Even now, they're dropping off their haul.

"Courier." Christine heard herself say, only it wasn't really her voice but Vera's. It took getting used to.

"Yeah, Christine?"

"Thank you." And the courier smiled at that, ran their fingers through their hair.

"It's what I should have done. Ah, I have something for you." They walk over to the cabinet and produce a rifle and armor that's familiar to Christine. Her Circle of steel uniform. "It's yours. If you want it."

When she wakes in the morning, she asks them about travelling to the Divide.

"Sure thing," the Courier says, and then looks a little flustered. "But I have to warn you. It's very dangerous in the Divide and we can't go immediately. I used up too many supplies getting to and from the Madre. You can stay here if you'd like, or I can set you up somewhere else. Oh, and you're welcome to come with me if you'd like."

That was another thing the Courier did: give her options, return to the Brotherhood, visit Veronica, visit the Divide, stay with the Courier. Maybe they were trying to stop her from feeling trapped.

So she travelled with the Courier throughout the Mojave. The Sniper came as well, although he didn't talk much and neither did Christine. But she could tell that he respected her and that he cared about Antietam. That was enough for Christine to respect him.

Travelling with Antietam wasn't like it had been in the Madre. The sun shining down on them reminded Christine of that with every step. It felt good to breathe in fresh air and walk under the Mojave's blue sky. With every breath she took, the Sierra Madre's fog left her lungs a little.

While gathering supplies, she asks the Courier to accompany her to the Brotherhood bunker of Hidden Valley. They were at the 188 Trading Outpost, and the Courier had ran under the bridge rather than head to the outpost. It was only for a second, but Christine is sure of what she sees: Veronica.

Her chest pangs at the sight, and she knows then that she still loves her.

Christine did not think she would ever see Veronica again. Had planned on it actually, when she resolved to be the warden of the Sierra Madre. Although the Courier had swayed her from the casino, she didn't lend any creedence to the idea of seeing Veronica. She had nothing left to offer her; she was a broken and scarred person and Veronica deserved better than her.

Antietam would probably argue with that, but it's not their decision to make.

Arriving in Hidden Valley, the Courier is treated as a paladin, although they certainly haven't welcomed them into the fold. The recycled ammo and poor quality armor is proof of that.

Cristine almost says something, and then she remembers the Courier's great love of fixing things. The armor was probably just a repair job they hadn't gotten around to.

In some ways, the base feels like home. It's not home, however, not for Christine or Antietam.

They see the elder by simply walking in. If Christine had done that during her time in the Brotherhood, it would not have gone well. Still, everyone seems more or less afraid of the Courier. If the story Christine was told regarding their first encounter with the Brotherhood was accurate, they should be.

The elder accepts Christine as a member of the Circle of Steel, even though her uniform is ragged and her holotags are somewhere in the Big MT. The Courier vouches for them, swearing on Steel, that this woman is Knight Christine Royce of the Circle of Steel.

Once the elder accepts that, Antietam announces that Father Elijah is dead. The elder's eyes widen and then narrow, before he asks if they can verify this.

"Well, I'm sure he's dead. I pumped him full of shotgun shells and then dropped a casino on him." Saying this, the courier dropped a parcel of Elijah's belongings on the desk.

The elder's face looks as if he wants to scream and is narrowly holding it in.

"I'll be looking forward to your report, Paladin." He says, after he took a good second to compose himself.

Christine laughs at the Courier's exit, and then resigns her commission with the Brotherhood of Steel. No longer if she a Knight of Steel, but Christine Royce, Survivor.

The Courier leaves without writing a report.

When the Courier announces that they're ready to leave for the Divide, it has been a month. A voice chirps from Antietam's pipboy, but it's not Elijah, a much softer voice.

"Oh boy, is this your friend? She looks...Dangerous!" the voice says.

"Yeah, I know, yes." The Courier says, and then introduces it to Christine, holding up their wrist. "This is Yes-Man, he lives in my pipboy. He's not evil or anything, just curious. Yes-Man, this is Christine Royce, she's a friend of mine."

"Hello, Christine! The Courier's wrong, I'm a little evil!" Yes-Man greets.

"Hello, Yes-Man?" Christine responds.

"I give free will to one computer and it turns evil." Antietam mutters, and looks down at the trail ahead. "Ready to head into the Divide?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

The trip is difficult, but the Courier is familiar with the path. As they walk, Antietam tells a story of the Courier who once walked this path, bringing death to their home. It fills maybe an hour of their long journey.

The rest is filled with near deaths and tapes played through Antietam's pipboy. Old world music, gameshows, and radio dramas copied onto holotapes and scrounged up throughout the wasteland. Unanimously, they skip Dean Domino tapes. Still, they come into rotation enough that the Courier removes the tape and holds it out for a second, like they were going to throw it away. They look at it real long and hard, and then put it back.

"It's too valuable to throw away."

Eventually, they make it to the cliffside at the end of the world. The man waiting there is the courier who saved her from the Big MT.

"Courier."He greets Antietam. "Didn't know we were having guests."

"You should know my name, Courier-you gave it to me." Antietam returns, and his eyes narrow in response.

"So I did. Did not expect to see you again, Knight Royce. Did you hunt your enemy?"

"Yes, and you?"

"Stands next to you now, no longer an enemy." Ulysses's eyes narrow on the Courrier. "Something else now."

Christine looked over at Antietam, a look in her eyes that says "you didn't mention this!".

"Well, that sure is something. I'm no longer a Knight, however."

"Put the Brotherhood behind you.... you are a changed man, Royce."

"You as well."

"I'll leave you two to get caught up." Antietam said with a smile, and turned to leave, but the voice on their pip boy spoke up.

"Aww, that's no fair! I wanna meet your friend!" Yes-Man whined.

The Courier rolled their eyes, and then flipped their wrist up.

"There, happy now?"

"Oh, I know you!" Yes-Man beeped. "You're that man that's been following us!"

"What? Yes, that's not right." The Courier ran their hands over their face. "Sorry, Ulysses. He's just a computer program and he doesn't mean anything. I'm not sure what he's on about."

Ulysses did not say anything.

"I am right!" Yes-Man argued. "I've seen him before!"

"No, you couldn't have. Ulysses was here, in the Divide, so he couldn't have been following us."

Christine thought about it. Antietam had known where Ulysses's camp was, but it didn't appear to be lived in for all that long. Could have meant anything.

"Sorry, I'll just...uhh leave. I'll talk to y'all later."

When the Courier was out of earshot, Christine looked at Ulysses.

"What's the truth?"

"Antietam came here for me. To the Divide. And then I followed them back to the Mojave."

"Didn't stop when they returned to the Mojave, did you?" Christine's voice is flat, unamused. "They didn't know they were being followed."

"No. Followed them through the mountains and deserts and into Vegas. Courier carries my heart, even if they don't know."

"They could. If you would stop following them and talk to them."

"Wouldn't matter. Couriers who have committed the wrongs we have and lived as we have...don't deserve happiness together."

"I understand. Before we met, I loved a woman named Veronica. But we were seperated by Elijah. And I hunted him despite how Veronica loved him like a father. Now I am free of that duty and too broken for Veronica to love."

"You argue despite that? Two of a kind, you and I." He thought for a second and then continued. "Perhaps you should return to the woman you love. Allow her to see you as you are now...to see if her feelings remain the same."

"Perhaps. Could say the same about you."

"Not the same. Courier and I were never lovers. Different history between the them and I, one filled with the death of our home."

"Cares about you though." Christine retorted, and when Ulysses didn't respond, she huffed. "I'm going to find them."

To Christine, the Divide screamed that she shouldn't be here. It wasn't her history that was buried under the ash. The land was still in the worst ways. Reminded her of the Madre, as she hunted through the land for Antietam.

Didn't have to go far, and Antietam smiled at her when their eyes met.

Christine opened her mouth to speak, but found that the words would not come.

"Did you and Ulysses have a good talk?" They asked.

"Yeah." Christine croaked out.

"Alright, I'm going to talk to him for a moment. We'll probably camp out here for a few days, then head home to the Mojave."

"Fine." She settled behind the Courier to follow them back to the camp.

The Courier laid close to Ulysses, putting down their heavy pack and pulling out supplies to show him. He looked amused as Antietam showed him their rollerskates and books they had brought their friend.

When they had emptied out their backpack and Ulysses had a stack of supplies littered around him, they leaned against him. Although Ulysses startled for a second, he relaxed and settled against Antietam.

"Hey, Ulysses...I've been thinking and I wanted to know..would you want to return to the Mojave with me and Christine?"

Ulysses didn't say anything for a moment, and then he responded.

"Perhaps it's time for me to leave this place." He rubbed at his jaw, and he looked at the courier, who was tucked into his side. "Yes, let the Divide belong to the past now."

It was like that then.

Christine held her friend's hand as they returned, just as they had when returning from the Madre. It feels right, the way their hands fit together.

The Divide has brought something back to her, she thinks, and she realizes her decision has been made. As the sun rises over the desert, she tells Antietam of her choice, and they wish her well.

Pack on her back, she leaves for Veronica.

She doesn't think that Veronica will recognize her. It has been years since they met, and her hair has been shaved, scars carved over her face and throat. Even her voice is different.

The 188 is her destination, as it's the last time she saw her. It takes her a few days, but she finds her way there.

She dons her Circle of Steel uniform, even if she no longer belongs to the Brotherhood.

"Excuse me," She greets. "May I speak with you for a second?"

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Veronica responds, lowering her eyebrows.

"You did, once. You were Scribe Veronica Santangelo, and I was Knight Christine Royce." Veronica startles back from her, and Christine thinks that this was a bad idea, and maybe listening to Ulysses on romantic advice was doomed from the start. "I know it's hard to believe-I don't look the same and my voice is different. Please let me explain."

"Alright, explain." Veronica responded, although she still looked hesitant.

"I was sent by the Circle of Steel to hunt Elijah down for his crimes. He elluded me and escaped to Big MT, a land controlled by robots who experimented on humans. After I confronted Ellijah, the robots captured me and they...cut into my head. A courier freed me and helped me back to health, but we parted ways so I could track Ellijah to his final destination."

"The Sierra Madre." Veronica breathed.

"Yes. However, when I arrived, I was trapped in an Auto-Doc. It tore out my vocal cords, leaving me mute. Another Courier freed me, and helped me to enact vengence on Ellijah. When our work was done, I decided to stay there."

"And yet you're here?" She shifted her weight from one fit to another.

"They convinced me to return. I believe they are a friend of yours."

"Christine...I can't believe it's you. I thought you were dead. Everyone did."

"I didn't think I would ever see you again." Christine smiled a little.

"I just don't know how to handle this. What do you want from me?"

"Anything you are willing to offer me. If you want nothing, I'll disappear and you'll never see me again. If you'd like to be friends, I'll be your friend."

"And if I want more?" Veronica said.

"I could be more. I'm not the same person I was."

"I don't want to push you away, but I don't know what I want. I didn't think I would see you either."

"Maybe we just need to take things as they come. See where the road takes us."

"I'd like that."

And Christine was at peace.

#fallout new vegas #fnv #ulysses fnv #ulysses #courier antietam #courier six #tw: stalking #christine royce #i drink my respecting and loving christine juice #antietam having the yes-man pipboy is forever #hhhh when they said fnv makes you question your gender...they weren't kidding...that fnv can make you question #craig boone #veronica santangelo #yes man

[mikauzoran]

Lukadrien: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter Seven

Read it on AO3: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter Seven

“Aren’t you done yet?” Luka half laughed, half groaned, banging his head against the bathroom door.

“Perfection takes time,” Adrien informed primly from within. “It’s my first show. I want to make a good impression.”

Luka clicked his tongue. “Perfect Fifth, they’re going to love you, but you take longer in the bathroom than my ex, and I still need to do my makeup.”

There was a beat before Adrien tentatively asked, “…Are we at a point where we can make jokes about your ex?”

Luka contemplated this for a moment and winced, admitting, “No. No, I actually don’t think we are.”

“…Okay. That’s okay,” Adrien assured, opening the bathroom door.

Luka, still resting his head against the door in question, nearly fell over into Adrien.

Afterwards, he was equal parts glad and disappointed that he hadn’t crashed into his roommate because, if he had, Luka would not have been able to control himself.

As things stood, Luka got an eyeful of Adrien in ripped, black skinny jeans and punk couture topped off with messy, wild hair and a generous helping of eyeliner.

Luka’s temperature shot through the roof as all the blood in his body rushed south.

A frown slowly knitted Adrien’s eyebrows together as he watched his friend closely for a reaction and didn’t seem to get a positive one.

“…How…do I look?” he pressed tentatively, beginning to shift his weight uneasily back and forth, fidgeting under Luka’s intense gaze.

Luka was preoccupied with fantasies of pushing Adrien up against a wall and sticking his tongue down Adrien’s throat.

…Better yet, Adrien pushing Luka up against a wall and sticking his tongue down Luka’s throat.

“Is it that bad?” Adrien demanded, beginning to panic as he took the shocked silence the wrong way. “Did I put on too much eyeliner? I’m sorry. I should have asked for your help, but I thought I knew what I was doing because I’ve seen the way you dress, so I thought—”

“—Sorry. What?” Luka cut him off, managing to shake himself loose from his daydreams. “I’m sorry. I spaced for a minute there. What are we talking about?”

Adrien blinked twice slowly. “…Um… Do I look bad? You were staring.”

“Oh! No! Nonono,” Luka assured, waving his hands in an attempt to clear up the misunderstanding. “Sorry. NO. You look great. I was just…”

Some of the blood deigned to come back up into his face to make him look like a cherry tomato.

He cleared his throat. “Sorry. I’m a little out of it. You look perfect. I love you—your eyeliner. And the hair,” Luka covered, mentally smacking himself.

“Oh,” Adrien responded uncertainly. “Thank you? I was kind of going for a Chat Noir vibe.”

“You look amazing.” Luka finally got it together and replied with an earnest smile. “You really nailed it. Jacob and Josie are going to coo and fuss over you.”

“Are you going to coo and fuss over me?” Adrien hummed, resting his forearm on the wall and leaning so that he very much resembled Chat Noir: lithe and predatory and very dangerous to Luka’s sanity in such tight clothing.

“I don’t think your ego really needs it,” Luka countered, “but I’ll consider it if you don’t make us late and we have a few minutes before we need to leave for the show.”

Adrien pulled out his phone and winced at the time. “Looks like my ego will have to wait to be stroked because we’re cutting it close as is.”

“Pity,” Luka sighed, not sure if he’d dodged a bullet or been deprived of an opportunity.

 True to Luka’s word, Josie and Jacob did, in fact, coo and fuss over Adrien when he and Luka arrived at the bar where they’d be playing.

“Look at him!” Jacob exclaimed, showing Adrien to Marc like a prize being revealed on a gameshow. “He’s so precious! He looks like a real baby punk!”

Josie shot Luka a lascivious grin and quietly teased, “So, how are you holding up with him wearing those pants?”

Luka took her by surprise by answering honestly: “I’m going out of my freaking mind. Thank you for asking.”

The smirk promptly dropped off of Josie’s face to be replaced by a look of concern. “Luc, are you okay?”

Luka shook his head. “Adrien is the guy Marinette never got over, and Adrien had feelings for her too in the past, so when they meet up again, I can only guess at what will happen.”

Josie winced. “That…really sucks.”

“Yeah, so there’s no point in letting my feelings for him come back only so he can break my heart too,” Luka sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Kind of hard with him looking like that.”

“Everything okay?” Marc called out, drawing Jacob and Adrien’s attention to Luka.

Adrien’s eyes narrowed, and he came over to touch Luka’s cheeks and forehead, testing for fever. “Are you still feeling out of it, Orpheus? You do feel a little warm.”

Adrien’s hands on Luka’s skin only served to make Luka’s temperature jump an additional degree or two.

“I’ll be all right. Thanks,” Luka lied, slipping out of Adrien’s reach. “Probably just a twenty-four-hour bug. I’m going to go start the equipment check.”

Jacob opened his mouth to comment, but Josie caught him by the sleeve and whispered in his ear.

Marc quirked an eyebrow, and Josie repeated what Luka had told her for him as well.

Collectively, the group grimaced.

“What’s going on, guys?” Adrien inquired, looking back and forth worriedly between Luka’s retreating back and the rest of their bandmates.

“He’s just feeling a little depressed and hopeless right now,” Marc explained with a sad but kind smile. “We’ll have to figure out some way to make him feel better and lighten up a bit.”

“We should do something fun together,” Jacob agreed, going to sling an arm around Adrien’s shoulders. “No need to worry about it now, though. Right now, we just need to get through the show.”

Adrien nodded as Jacob led him over to the equipment to prepare for the performance.

 “That was amazing!” Josie squealed, throwing her arms around Adrien as soon as they made it off stage.

“I can’t believe we pulled that off without a hitch,” Jacob laughed giddily, carding a hand through his spikey hair.

Marc rolled his eyes, giving everyone pats on the back. “I mean, we have been practicing every day this week for hours.”

“Still, Adrien was incredible,” Luka chimed in, giving Adrien’s arm a squeeze. “That was flawless.”

“Not completely flawless,” Adrien protested sheepishly. “But thank you. Seriously. Everyone…”

He looked around at his bandmates with an enormous, grateful grin. “Thank you so much for your patience with me this week. Thank you for letting me be a part of your group. This was really a team effort, and I never could have done it without you.”

“Aww. He’s so modest,” Jacob chuckled, pulling Adrien into a side hug and ruffling his hair.

“You could have managed without Jacob,” Josie snickered, giving the bassist a teasing elbow.

“Josephine, play nice,” Marc sighed in exasperation, shaking his head with a fond smile.

“We should celebrate!” Josie announced, pointedly ignoring Marc’s reprimand. “Who wants to get some drinks and dance?”

“Me!” Jacob’s hand shot up, and he proceeded to bounce up and down in place. “Me-me! Me!”

Luka winced. “I…can’t. I drove over here, and I need to be able to get Adrien home safe.”

“I could get you guys home,” Marc volunteered. “I need to bow out so I can go tuck my little girl in, but I can come back later and drive you home.”

“Hold up,” Adrien demanded. “You have a daughter?”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t shown you pictures yet,” Josie scoffed.

“Her name is Antoinette,” Marc gushed, beaming with pride. “She’s two years old, and she’s the best thing I’ve done in my entire life.” He whipped out his phone and navigated to his photos.

“Aww,” Adrien cooed as he looked at the picture of a pale toddler with ink black hair and even darker eyes in a green party dress with her arms wrapped around a fluffy white Maltese. “Marc, she’s adorable!”

“Thank you,” Marc preened. “I wish I could take the credit, but that’s all my wife Wakana.”

“Her smile is yours, though,” Adrien observed.

“You are the sweetest thing,” Marc laughed, patting Adrien on the shoulder before turning to Luka. “I should be back in about an hour, but you can stay later, if you feel like it. You feeling emotionally well enough to drink responsibly?”

Luka’s teeth sank into his bottom lip. “Maybe?” he fibbed.

Honestly, he was on the edge and could easily go either way. It could turn out to be a fun night with friends or the start of another drunken grief spiral.

Marc pursed his lips.

“Don’t fret so much,” Jacob chided, clicking his tongue as he slung his arm around Luka’s shoulders. “You’re no fun, Maman. I’ll look after Luc.”

“This does not inspire confidence,” Marc sighed.

“I’ll keep an eye on Luka,” Adrien volunteered. “I don’t drink, so I can play babysitter and make sure everyone’s okay until you get back, Marc.”

“Thank you,” Marc replied, only slightly exaggerating his relief. “I feel better leaving an adult in charge.”

“You don’t drink?” Josie pressed, ignoring Marc’s slight as she looped her arm through Adrien’s.

Adrien shook his head and smiled in embarrassment. “Yeah…I kind of don’t like not being in control. It’s dangerous, making yourself vulnerable like that. It would be different if we were somewhere safe and it was just people I trusted, but…”

Josie’s eyes narrowed. “Chéri, are you okay? Who hurt you?”

Adrien shrugged, averting his gaze, still not quite ready to admit that he’d been on the streets until just a few days prior.

Luka broke away from Jacob and went to Adrien’s side, resting a hand on his shoulder and looking him in the eye intently. “We don’t have to stay, if you’re uncomfortable. Just say the word, and I’ll take you home. It’s totally fine, Perfect Fifth. I don’t mind, honestly.”

“No, no,” Adrien assured, waving away Luka’s concern with one hand. “It’s good. I’m not uncomfortable, but thank you so much for always being so considerate. I appreciate it. No, I like dancing, so I have no problem hanging out with everyone.”

Luka let go of the breath he’d been holding, and the tension slowly faded from his body. “Okay. Good. Just let me know if you start feeling uncomfortable, though. Any time. I want to make sure you feel safe.”

Adrien smiled brightly, gratitude and affection filling his eyes. “Thank you.”

“Can we meditate for a moment on the fact that he calls him ‘Perfect Fifth’?” Jacob demanded, unable to hold in his laughter. “That is the sappiest thing, and I’m kind of jealous because I never got a cute pet name like that when I was dating him.”

“Ouch,” Adrien snickered, pulling away from Josie to wrap his arms possessively around Luka. “Sucks to be you. Guess Luka just loves me more.”

Marc shoot Luka a pitying look as he wondered if it were really okay to let Luka drink that night after all.

Meanwhile, Jacob cackled. “Ow! I am wounded. Even more so because it’s probably true.”

“So…if you’re Luka’s perfect fifth,” Josie puzzled, “does that make Luka your tonic?”

Adrien hummed softly in thought, not noticing as Luka tried not to spontaneously combust in mortification.

Not for the first time, Luka thanked the heavens that he was taller than Adrien so that Adrien couldn’t see the look on Luka’s face as Adrien embraced him.

“I mean…yeah,” Adrien replied softly, resting his head on Luka’s chest. “Luka’s always been my ‘tonal center’ in a way. Whenever I felt frazzled or lost as a teen, I knew I could go to him to help me find my way again…so I guess he is my tonic.”

“Aww,” Josie cooed. “That’s adorable. I was teasing, but you are just too cute.”

“Yeah,” Jacob sighed with a shrug. “I know when I’ve been beat. You win, Adrien. I could never say something that gooey with a straight face. You and Luka deserve each other.”

Adrien made a move to pull back to reply, but Luka hugged him in tighter, afraid that how he felt for Adrien was written plainly all over his face and that if Adrien saw it, he wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing a flat with Luka anymore.

“Sorry,” Luka whispered, burying his face in Adrien’s hair. “That’s…That’s really sweet. It means a lot to me that you think of me that way.”

“Of course,” Adrien chuckled, not minding the affection in the least. “You’re one of the few people in my life I’ve always been able to count on.”

“Okay, seriously,” Josie huffed. “Who hurt you? Who do I need to go beat up?”

Adrien broke away from Luka and turned to placate Josie. “It’s really not that bad. Please don’t assault anyone on my behalf.”

Luka turned away and quickly attempted to compose himself.

Marc gave him a questioning look, a silent offer of assistance, but Luka shook his head.

Jacob quirked an eyebrow.

“I reserve my right to assault whoever I determine deserves it,” Josie insisted indignantly, reaching out to ruffle Adrien’s hair.

Adrien gave up and submitted to Josie’s attentions with a small sigh and a reluctant smile. “Thank you, but I really am fine.”

“You’ll never convince her of that,” Luka informed, briskly changing the subject. “Let’s go get some drinks, shall we?”

 Luka had regrets.

At that moment, his regrets were named Whiskey and Adrien.

More specifically, Adrien’s dancing.

Adrien dancing like that while wearing skinny jeans that reminded Luka how he had worshipped Chat Noir’s butt back in the day.

Luka didn’t really dance, but Jacob and Adrien had hit the dance floor, and seeing them together made Luka irrationally jealous, so he’d gone over there and started dancing with Adrien…and the alcohol in Luka’s blood was trying to convince him that it would be a good idea to tug Adrien in gently so that their bodies were pressed flush together and then kiss him for all he was worth.

Objectively, Luka knew that this was a very, very bad plan…but the way Adrien was swiveling his hips gave Luka ideas that would be easier to shake if he were sober.

And Luka was not sober.

“Where did you learn to dance?” he asked over the music in an attempt to distract himself from the bad ideas.

Adrien’s face flushed. “Mostly Chloé. She had alternating phases where she was really obsessed with pole dancing, belly dancing, and burlesque.”

“Oh,” Luka replied dumbly.

“Alya taught me a little too, though. Nino tried, but our styles are different,” Adrien elaborated, body flowing like liquid to the beat as he spoke. “I don’t think all of my lessons in ballroom and Latin dance count, but…I’m sure you’ll recognize where I stole this cute butt wiggle from.”

Luka did indeed recognize Marinette’s patented butt wiggle, and it made him feel all kinds of things he didn’t want to feel.

“Is that Marc over by the bar?” Luka asked, craning his neck as if trying to get a better view.

Adrien frowned and stopped dancing to look too. “…I don’t…think I see him?”

“I think that was him,” Luka lied. “You go ahead and keep dancing with Jacob and Josie. I’m going to meet up with Marc and take a seat.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Adrien inquired uncertainly. “Want me to walk you?”

Luka shook his head, needing to get away so that he could stop feeling so much. “Nah. He’s just over there. I can make it across the room by myself. You keep having fun, Angel.”

“O…Okay,” Adrien replied, still uneasy as Luka smiled reassuringly before turning to go.

Luka was quickly swallowed up by the crowd, and Adrien couldn’t quite relax after losing sight of him.

Luka made a beeline for the bar, numbing himself with more alcohol.

Fortunately, Marc really did show up within a few minutes and found Luka before too much harm could be done.

“I take it the evening took a turn for the worse?” Marc sighed, gently taking Luka’s glass away from him.

Luka groaned, resting his forehead on the counter. “I’m in love with him. I never stopped loving him, and now he’s going to start dating Marinette, and I’m going to have to pretend to be okay with this, to be happy for them, and I can’t do it. I can’t do this.”

“I think you’re catastrophizing,” Marc informed softly, reaching out to rub soothing circles between Luka’s shoulder blades. “I know it feels hopeless now, but hang in there, okay? Things will look a little less dark in the morning. You’re going to get through this.”

Luka shook his head.

“Shhh,” Marc cooed, giving Luka’s shoulder a squeeze. “Yes, you will. You’re strong, Luc. You’re tough, and you’re going to make it if I have to drag you out the other side.”

 “What happened?!” Adrien gasped, stunned at the state he found Luka in fifteen minutes later.

Marc winced. “I think the alcohol suddenly hit him all at once.”

“Luka, are you okay?!” Adrien was at his side, fussing and carrying on, in seconds.

“No,” Luka moaned.

“He’ll be okay in the morning,” Marc promised through a doubtful grimace. “Or…at least by tomorrow evening. He just needs to throw up and sleep it off.”

Marc’s reassuring words did nothing to loosen Adrien’s pinched frown.

“Don’t worry,” Marc soothed, reaching out to rest a hand on Adrien’s upper arm. “He’s going to be okay. Trust me.”

Slowly, tentatively, Adrien nodded.

 They packed Josie and Jacob into a cab to Josie’s house to take care of one another for the night and then loaded Luka into the backseat of Luka’s car, most of his weight supported by Adrien.

“You’re beautiful,” Luka purred as he played dazedly with Adrien’s hair. “So pretty.”

“Thank you,” Adrien replied self-consciously, not sure how to respond. “You’re pretty too.”

“You’re going to-to hurt me,” Luka chuckled darkly.

Adrien gave a start. “No, I’m not. I would never do anything to hurt you, Luka.”

“Not on purpose,” Luka hummed, dropping his head to Adrien’s shoulder. “Not on purpose…porpoise.” He laughed at that.

“Not on porpoise,” Adrien agreed, still feeling like he was on shaky ground.

“…I love you,” Luka snickered, giving Adrien’s neck a wet kiss.

Adrien gasped, his nerve endings lighting up as his stomach flipped involuntarily.

It wasn’t like the other times Luka had said those words or given Adrien a platonic kiss on the cheek or temple or forehead. It felt different and wrong and right all at the same time.

Adrien wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

“I…I love you too, Luka,” Adrien answered in the most conversational tone he could manage.

Luka only laughed, further unsettling Adrien.

When they got back to the apartment building, it took both Marc and Adrien to awkwardly trundle Luka up the stairs, down the hall, and into his bedroom.

That accomplished, Marc turned to Adrien with a delicate smile.

Adrien recognized it as the kind of smile he’d often received when the person smiling was about to attempt to manage Adrien.

His defences automatically went up.

“I think I’ve got it from here,” Marc informed with a tired sigh. “Thanks for your help.”

Adrien blinked, thrown off balance. “Uh…you’re welcome. I was actually about to say the same thing to you. I think I’m okay now, if you want to go home.”

Marc shook his head. “It’s okay, Adrien. I’ll stay with him.”

It sounded like a polite implication that Adrien should leave, and Adrien wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Luka had repeated over and over again that this was Adrien’s home now as much as Luka’s, but, suddenly, Adrien was feeling like an intruder all over again.

He turned to Luka. “Orpheus, do you want me to stay with you, or do you want Marc?”

“Marc can stay,” Luka grumbled out from under the arm he had tossed over his face. “Go ahead and go to bed, Perfect Fifth.”

Adrien pulled away, averting his gaze and wrapping his arms around himself. “Well…okay, then. I guess I’m no use here, so…um…I’ll just be in the other room if you need help finding things or something.”

“Thank you, Adrien. I’m pretty familiar with the house, though,” Marc replied with a strained smile.

“Right. Of course,” Adrien muttered, cheeks bursting into flames of humiliation. “Sorry. I’ll just…I’ll get out of your way.”

He’d gotten halfway to the door before Marc caught up and caught Adrien by the shoulder.

“You are not in the way, Adrien,” Marc assured gently, quietly so that Luka wouldn’t hear. “I have no doubt you’d do an amazing job of taking care of him. It’s not about you being capable or not. It’s just that he’s going through some stuff, and he wouldn’t want you to see him like this. He cares about what you think of him, and he doesn’t want you to see him as a mess.”

Adrien’s eyes rounded as he saw the sincerity in Marc’s expression.

“He doesn’t care if I see him gripping the edges of the toilet seat and puking his guts out,” Marc explained, “but he’d die if you saw him like that. He wants you to respect him and think he’s cool and all that.”

Adrien gave a soft snort. “I do respect him and think he’s cool.”

“Good,” Marc chuckled tiredly. “I’m glad to hear that…but he probably still wouldn’t want you to see him like this…you know?”

Adrien stuck out his lip in a pout but begrudgingly nodded anyway. “I just want to help, though.”

“You have been helping,” Marc assured, resting his hands on Adrien’s shoulders. “Everything you’ve done for him since you moved in has been tremendous. Trust me. I’ve seen him before and after you coming back into his life, and he has been doing so much better these past few days. You are a miracle worker…but I think it’s best if I take this one tonight…if that’s okay?”

Reluctantly, Adrien agreed. “…Yeah. I don’t like it, but I get it. I’ve…I’ve not reached out for help before when I needed it because I was afraid to let people see how bad things had gotten, so I do get it.”

“Good.” Marc gave Adrien’s shoulders an encouraging squeeze before pulling back. “You can help out again in the morning. He’ll need breakfast and aspirin and plenty of water. I’ll turn him over to you in the morning, but I’ll go ahead and take the night shift, all right?”

“All right,” Adrien affirmed, finally feeling a little better about it all.

So long as Luka still needed him. So long as Adrien wasn’t in the way.

“Perfect Fiiiiiifth,” Luka groaned deliriously.

Adrien was back at his side in an instant. “I’m here. What’s wrong? What do you need?”

“I love you,” Luka choked, and it sounded more like a lament than an affectionate remark.

“Love you too,” Adrien answered anyway, leaning in to press a light peck to Luka’s forehead. “Marc’s going to take care of you now, so you be good, okay? See you in the morning.”

“I love you,” Luka repeated balefully.

Adrien gave Luka an encouraging smile and patted him on the shoulder. “I love you too. Feel better, Orpheus.”

On his way out, Adrien sent Marc a worried look.

Marc did his best to inspire confidence and optimism, but Adrien wasn’t easily convinced.

Needless to say, no one slept well that night.

#Lukadrien #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Adrien Agreste #Luka Couffaine #Pining #Mutual Pining #Misunderstandings #Angst #Friendship #Flirting #Blushing #Dancing #Drinking #Drinking too Much #Happy Ending #Friends to Lovers #Slow Burn #Fluff #Mikau's Writings #Zebras Can't Change Their Stripes

[amazonswin]

Saudade: Chapter 1

Pairing: Duncan/Courtney (Total Drama)

Word Count: 1.3k

A/n: In this fic (and in my mind), All stars never happened! Also this is my first fic in a really long time, so I hope you enjoy!

———

It's amazing how something incredibly lame can help change your life forever.

It had been nearly 8 whole years since the filming of world tour had ended, and Geoff insisted that there had to be a reunion party. Just the thought of it made Duncan want to barf. Why would he willingly spend another minute with those people? Wasn't three seasons enough?

But after Geoff's constant invites, going seemed to be the least annoying option.

The party was already alive when Duncan arrived. He recognized most of the people—at least those from the original cast—instantly. There were some new faces, but he just assumed they were tagalongs. As he entered the house, he couldn't help but wonder if a certain someone would be inside.

"My man!" The host greeted while trying not to spill his beer. Geoff had barely changed, same wildness, same girl, same cowboy hat. "I knew you'd come bro!"

"Couldn't let you have all the fun without me" Geoff laughed, already a bit drunk. Duncan followed him into the kitchen where most of their former team members gathered. Geoff wrapped his arm around Bridgette and took another sip from his cup.

"Who'd of thought the killer bass would ever be back together again?" DJ immediately hugged Duncan. Though not usually a fan of touching, he knew DJ well enough to not expect anything else.

"Well most of us anyway" Bridgette looked around, "Did anyone see where Courtney snuck off to?"

Duncan's heart skipped a beat at the sound of her name. It had been years since he last spoke to her and yet, some feelings still remained.

"She got a call a while ago, maybe she took off?" DJ suggested.

"I hope not, it took weeks to convince her to come" The blonde took a sip from her own cup, "I'm gonna go find her so we can have an actual team reunion"

-

Making his way through the party, Duncan couldn't help but be reminded of his gameshow days. Juvie seemed better than some of the challenges they had to do. It wasn't all bad though, the island was where he met DJ and Geoff, where he got to torture Harold, where he met Courtney.

 What a dumb kid he was, he constantly combed through all of the poor decisions he had made. The worst being betraying Courtney. He loved Courtney, but Gwen was his best friend. They were alike in so many ways. What teenage boy wouldn't give it a go? He knew now that he could've handled it better though. Courtney shouldn't have gotten hurt like she did. God, he felt like such an asshole... The forced energy of the party made Duncan feel smothered, like they were trying to force a second chance to be teenagers. That was the last thing Duncan wanted, he’d changed so much since then. Why undo what’s already been done? What good would that do?

He quietly shifted his way down the hall towards the guest bedroom. He had crashed there many times before due to Geoff always pushing a boy’s weekend a bit too far. The music from the party was so deafening that he wasn’t sure if someone was inside or not, all he knew was that he needed to escape even if just for a moment. Duncan turned the knob and slid into the room. Suddenly, there she was. Courtney hadn't changed much in 8 years, but she was also completely different. The same big brown eyes and lightly scattered freckles that he once knew, but they were met with a more mature figure.

Courtney didn’t even notice him, her phone practically glued to her ear, “Baby, I know you miss me. Mommy promises she’ll be home super soon, okay?” She tried so hard to be reassuring without letting her true nervousness pour out. “I know, but I'm sure Miss Marissa would love to read you the fairy book again. Just go lay down and I’ll be there before you know it. I love you sweet pea, goodnight.”

She put down the phone and fell backwards onto the bed, clasping her hands over her eyes. Coming tonight was a mistake. Courtney never went out just for her, and after tonight she knew she would never do it again.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in here” Duncan finally emerged into her view.

Courtney jolted up, feeling too embarrassed and exposed to know what to say, “I- um, you should knock before entering a room at another person’s home. It's extremely rude not to.”

“Wow princess, you sure haven’t changed at all”

“Do not call me princess.”

He made his way to the bed and sat at the opposite end, “You can avoid me for however long you want, but you’ll always be princess”

Courtney let out a small laugh. The sight of Ducan made her want to run, but she felt as if she was cemented to the bed. The pair sat in silence, staring off at anything that wasn’t each other. There were so many things to be said, yet no words came.

“So how did they manage to get you here?”

“Geoff is a very persistent man. I swear he’s worse then my parole officer.” Duncan smirked. “How about you? They lie and say it was a corporate event?”

“Haha very funny” She teased back, “Bridgette is actually extremely persistent too.” Those two were definitely made for each other, once they had an idea there was no way out of it.

“Is your husband here too? Now that's a man I wanna meet. Let's see who’s got the balls to actually put up with you” Duncan flinched at the thought of Courntey with someone, but it was bound to happen at some point. He didn’t expect her to still want him, especially not after what he did to her.

Courtney looked down, trying to decide if she should just lie to get the conversation over with. “I’m not married.”

“Oh. Your call sounded like you had a kid, so I just-”

“Just assumed little miss perfect had this flawless life?” Courtney stood with a newfound gust of anger. “My life isn’t perfect, and you have no right to mention my child.” She stormed out of the room, ready to finally leave the party and her past behind.

Duncan quickly followed, trying to apologize for setting her off. Damn this place was like a horrible boozed up maze. Geoff had insisted on installing adjustable lights so he could dim them to ‘create the mood’. At the time, Duncan had been all for it but now it was just making his search even harder. As he reached the living room he saw Lindsay sitting on the couch, fiddling with her nails.

“Did you see Courtney at all, I really need to find her”

“Aw, oh my gosh, that's so cute! You guys were always so meant to be, I always knew it. Like, I was making out with Tyler earlier and it brought back so many memories. Oops, I probably shouldn’t kiss and tell…”

Duncan knew he wouldn’t get anything from her. While she was a nice girl, she wasn’t all there when it came to getting to the point, especially while drunk. He knew it was a long shot for Courtney to even still be here. She had always hated parties, and he gave her the perfect excuse to leave one.

Duncan collapsed into the cushion next to the drunk blonde. Tonight may have been filled with mistakes but he knew finding Courtney wasn't one of them. He had to see her again, for anything to at least apologise. Trying to forget her was the hardest thing he had ever done, he wasn’t about to do it again. It didn’t matter if she had a kid, he wanted her. He always had.

#pls let me know what yall think!! #praise makes my heart go uwu #if u like it i promise to try and update fast #total drama #td #td courtney #total drama world tour #total drama action #total drama island #total drama all stars #td duncan #tdas #td duncney #duncney #duncney fic

[custardcove]

Here’s a fifteen-questions meme I stole from my splat-blog! 

I’m not tagging fifteen people, but if you’re a mutual of mine that wants to take part, consider yourself tagged. 

1. Are you named after anyone? 

Pansy: A flower, if that counts! It’s a family tradition for the firstborn.

Ivan: Not exactly. I share a name with some video game character Alice liked the sound of.

Queenie: Sadly not. While I appreciate that my name stands out, sharing a name with one of my ancestors would’ve been a mark of pride.  

Taylor: Mmmnope. I like ‘Taylor’ enough because it starts with a T like Tomiichi, but I wasn’t named after anybody—though you know, as a point of interest, it was meant to rhyme with my brother’s name!

Neo: I was named after my grandmother.

-

2. When was the last time you cried? 

Pansy: Aw, man… I try to stay positive around Prim, but I do cry about silly stuff sometimes. Maybe a week ago? Sometimes the past just catches up to you.

Ivan: Longer than I can remember.

Queenie: What an invasive question! I don’t think that’s any of your business. I do not cry frequently.

Taylor: Now why’d you want to know a thing like that? I think I’ll keep it to myself!

Neo: Mind your own business.

-

3. Do you have kids?

Pansy: Have you met Primrose? That’s my daughter. She’s really sweet, but she’s also quite shy, so please keep that in mind.

Ivan: This is a difficult question to answer. I’d say no. I don’t think granting someone’s wish makes me a father.

Queenie: Not yet. I intend to.

Taylor: Woah, no! Do I look responsible enough to be a dad? Ahah…

Neo: No. I would rather not.

-

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? 

Pansy: I try not to, er, I’m not so great at it. And it’s kinda mean.

Ivan: I get reprimanded for being sarcastic. It happens regularly.

Queenie: What do you think?

Taylor: There’s always room for some well-placed sarcasm!

Neo: Any time I make a joke.

-

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people? 

Pansy: I try to get a good read on folks—so, I guess their whole profile? That’s before I start looking at their individual features. If something sticks out to me from there, I’ll focus on that—but not in a mean way! Like, seeing someone’s smile, or if they’re carrying something, or their size, or claws. That’s what I mean.

Ivan: Their aura. It’s not difficult for me to discern a person’s moral alignment, and that’s important for my role.

Queenie: Their posture, how they walk, how they talk. It’s important for a first impression and can often be an indication of status. Or, perhaps more importantly, an indication of their intent…

Taylor: Their mood! I don’t want to step on the toes of anyone that’s angry, and happier people are more likely to give you the time of day, you know? Improving someone’s low mood is great too, but I have to gauge my limits.

Neo: I’m not known for noticing people. How social they are, I suppose.

-

6. What’s your eye colour? 

Pansy: Psychic pink! They do that thing where they get more vivid when I use my powers—just the psychic ones, though. And I don’t use those too much ‘cause I risk a headache… still, I like my eyes.

Ivan: Brown, orange.

Queenie: Smoky Quartz.

Taylor: Brown. You know, like coffee? If I were a coffee, I think I’d be a Caffe Latte. … But, yeah they’re darker than that.

Neo: …I don’t mind my eyes being green as much as my hair.

-

7. Scary movie or happy ending? 

Pansy: Don’t mind either one, but I’d prefer a happy ending, even in a scary movie. That said, there are scary movies I just won’t watch, so I guess happy endings win out.

Ivan: I don’t waste much time watching films unless I’m asked to, but I prefer a happy ending. A good story is the most important, though.

Queenie: Happy endings are far too sappy and saccharine, but I can’t say I receive much thrill from horror either. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy watching them … my favourite part of a movie is criticizing it.

Taylor: Happy endings, please! I can’t understand why anyone would want to scare themselves – unless it’s silly fun, but that’s different. Y’know, not that I scare easy or anything…

Neo: Scary movies tend to be more interesting, but… I don’t have anything against happy endings. Horror isn’t my genre, either, unless it’s psychological.

-

8. Any special talents? 

Pansy: I have a bit of a green thumb!

Ivan: That all depends on your perspective.

Queenie: I’m an excellent piano player.

Taylor: People tell me I’ve got a lot of charisma, and I consider that a talent!

Neo: I suppose converting myself into digital matter could be considered a talent.

-

9. Where were you born? 

Pansy: A town not so different from Erryton, actually! It’s not far.

Ivan: Great question.

Queenie: Enigma Island, not far from Thorn’s Peak.

Taylor: Would you believe me if I told you I couldn’t remember? Aha. I know we moved when I was really young.

Neo: Doesn’t matter.

-

10. What are your hobbies? 

Pansy: Well, like I mentioned, I quite like doing plant stuff. I used to sketch ‘em and make notes about ‘em too, but I stick more to the practical side these days. I also like to bake! Mainly pies, cakes and cookies.

Ivan: I play the flute and cithara. Next question.

Queenie: I have a wide array of hobbies. I enjoy painting, reading, and  playing the piano—as I have already mentioned. While I’m not … particularly adept at sewing, I practice cross-stitch on occasion. I also like to write poetry, and take a bit of interest in botany…

Taylor: Most of my hobbies have some aspect of music tied to them—I like playing the guitar, mixing tracks, and just listening to albums. But I also like playing videogames and taking apart machinery for fun. I can even help people fix things! Er, sometimes.

Neo: I read comics and watch movies, like most people. You wouldn’t be interested.

-

11. Do you have any pets?

Pansy: Not anymore, but I’ve had two cats – Mr Ravioli in my childhood home, and then Kiki later on. I’ve considered getting another, but I think I should wait until Primmy is a little older…

Ivan: No.

Queenie: Estelle! She’s a darling little kitty-cat and I love her so. <3

Taylor: One dog, a shibe—my father bred his, and I got a puppy. Tadashi!

Neo: My brother makes robots, and we have one of those roving floor cleaners. I would consider that a pet. We call him V.I.N.CENT.

-

12. What sports do you/have you played?

Pansy: I’m not really big on sports – I like magic fights? But I don’t do that a lot now.

Ivan: I may have taken part in some sport or another, but if I did, I did not commit it to memory.

Queenie: I like to swim, though I have not played any sports as such. I have also been horse riding—oh, and I’ve played badminton once or twice.

Taylor: Alice likes table tennis, and we play together sometimes. Apart from that, um… I’ve been asked to play football and baseball before?

Neo: I like to run. Parkour is fun too.

-

13. How tall are you? 

Pansy: Five foot seven, and I’m the shortest in my family…

Ivan: Depends.

Queenie: A reasonable five feet and ten inches without heels.

Taylor: Ahaha … let’s just skip this one, shall we? You don’t need to know that.

Neo: Taller than you.

-

14. Dream job? 

Pansy: I’ve pretty much got my dream job, all things considered! I guess I’d like it if I could get paid to do plant study, but I never really had the grades to do that as a job.

Ivan: I’m working on my rank.

Queenie: I have entertained the possibility of having a career before. Hotel management seems like an interesting prospect … or a jeweller, perhaps? Oho, I don’t know if I could be trusted to sell anything. Either way, I’m comfortable enough managing my home and finances.

Taylor: I’ve always wanted to be a big-name tv presenter—hell, even a small-name gameshow host! I’ve not given up on my dream yet, but being a radio show host is close enough. I can use it as a stepping stone. Yeah, a music quiz show would be great…

Neo: I don’t know. Even when it comes to things I like doing, I’m not sure I’d want to make a job out of it. Coding is just convenient.

-

15. Favourite subject in school? 

Pansy: Science! I also liked geography, ‘cause I was pretty decent at it.

Ivan: I have never attended school.

Queenie: I’ve both been to school and had private tutors, but my favourite subjects were history and literature. They rely on eachother, so were easy to write papers on.

Taylor: Apart from the obvious ‘music’, it was mathematics—and yes, I’m serious! I also liked science and IT.

Neo: From what I remember of school, I liked science and computing classes. The rest of what I learned was from online courses.

 That’s… that’s it? It just ends? Alright then.

#Pansy #Ivan #Queenie #Taylor #Neo #OC Questions

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Blood Red Heat prt 32

For a moment, Keith found the world black, before the sound of party poppers hit his ears and his sense of sight returned. Confetti and streamers falling from above were the least of his worries. All his emotions pushed to the extreme at the scene in front of him.

He was in Bob’s fucking stupid game show studio. Around him, the black shadows of the audience were cheering. In front of him Bob was in his ridiculous floating chair... Keith wanting nothing more to fly into a rage and punch the green bastard squarely in the jaw, because, seriously, what the fuck was this.

Behind Bob stood the pack, Lance dressed in his blue armour, with Pike now placed in what looked like one of the castles healing pods. Despite the presence of their team, the light behind their eyes was black and vacant, as if in a state of sleep walking. And behind them stood two giant gameshow wheels, one with the character names on it, the other with different scenarios. Keith staggered on the spot. All of this... all of this was some kind... some kind of fucking game?! This was their lives... the games show... he’d broken Lance’s heart to pieces... and now, Bob?

“What the fuck?”

Moved by some invisible force, Keith was pulled to the front of the stage to stand by Bob, he wanted so bad to punch him, but his body didn’t move

“Welcome back! Who would have thought after their last disastrous performance, we’d see such an overwhelming display of friendship. Let’s give it up for everybody’s favourite Paladins!”

The audience cheered. The lights of the studio blinded Keith, unable to see anything past the edge of the stage. Maybe it was a good thing he couldn’t speak or move now...

“Yes, our favourite Paladin are back! After our last episode, we were inundated with your messages. We heard you! I heard you! Now let’s talk to the man of the hour, Black Paladin Keith!”

Cheering again for him, Keith blinked, then blinked again in surprise that he’d been able to blink

“Keith, you’ve been through a lot. How do you feel this affected your relationship with Lance... Any chance we’ll be expecting baaaaaaby Paladins any time soon?”

Bob winked at him. Keith saw red all over again

“What the fuck?!”

Chuckling, Bob’s chair floated backwards from him

“I think the shock must have gotten the better of him!”

Keith went to move to grab Bob, his body didn’t listen... the wanker had only given him enough use of his body to reply and blink?!

“Seriously, what the fuck is all of this?!”

Bob chuckled, the audience laughing along

“Isn’t he a riot? We’ve never had such ratings before, and with poor Lance feeling so outcast, we all felt it was our need to bring your feelings to light!”

“How is that any of your business?!”

“It becomes my business when the fate of the universe is at stake! Voltron could never hope to defeat all those evil doers out there without being a united front!”

“So you tried to kill Lance?! We should kill you!”

“Whoops, folks! I think I’ve made him mad! Let’s look back at what happened the last time we had the Paladins grace us with their presence!”

The two gameshow wheels dropped into the floor, a screen coming down. The first few seconds counted in the movie, like the really old movies back on Earth. Under the influence of Bob, Keith was turned on the spot, watching that “scene”. That scene when Keith had crushed any ounce of confidence left within Lance. “I just don’t wanna be stuck here for eternity with Lance”. He deserved the booing that the audience gave him. With his not so finest hour broadcast to... wherever this shit was televised, Keith’s cheeks burned with shame. He’d been so cruel to the man who’d always had his back. Who’d supported him when Shiro had gone missing. Some team leader he was.

“Yes, yes! Our young Red Paladin was crushed! But I knew better! I could see inside their minds”

Bob wriggled his fingers, like they did on Earth when talking of vaguely spooky things. Keith cutting in

“I know I fucked up! I would have taken those words back if I could have!”

And Bob ignoring him

“This episode stuck with me. I found myself saying “Bob. Bob, my man, can we really leave the universe to such a divided team? A Red Paladin who was falling apart. A Black Paladin who broke his heart. Of course we couldn’t!”

Keith had already hit near apocalyptic rage

“Do I not get a chance to defend myself here?!”

With a click of his fingers, Keith found a dummy in his mouth and the inability to spit the thing out

“The only thing for it was a dashing love story where our two heroes finally revealed what they meant to each other! Let’s bring him around, please give a big round of applause for Laaaaaance!”

God, no. This was too cruel. Lance slowly raised his head, showing him those blue eyes he’d missed so much. The crowd cheered for Lance as Lance looked terrified beneath the burning lights.

“Hush, hush! I know you’re all as excited as I am! Our two star crossed lovers, finally reunited on screen! No one could have written a better love story, except for I!”

Bob laughed obnoxiously. Keith shook. Lance wanted to move, but all Bob had done was awaken him to this freakfest. Catching the Red Paladin’s eye, Lance’s pretty blue eyes welled with tears of guilt. Shit. Fuck. It felt like a thousand poisoned thorns were being shoved down Keith’s throat. The guilt choking him alive. Lance had never asked for his cruelness

“Awww, I think he missed him!”

The audience letting out a long “aw”. Bob might be a god, and sure, killing Zarkon then pissing off Lotor had been hard enough, but Keith wasn’t about trying to slay a god.

“I said to myself, Bob, when was the last time our Lance was truly happy? Was it when Keith returned?! No! Keith ignored him! Was it on the game show?! No! Then it hit me. Monster and Mana. Monsters and Mana where no one noticed the pain he hid so plainly with his vanishing character! What a perfect setting! What if Pike was cast into a world? What if Lance was cast as Pike, the dorky thief that felt outcast?! What if we watched as Lance found his way out of that doom and gloom, and I must say, the results speak for themselves! We’ve been treated to a feast of angst. And that twist with the pearl?! Lance’s experiences gathering into something tangible?! The more he found his way back, the more he struggled to keep his head high as show the depths of his forgiveness, with his dashing boyfriend there to show him what true love feels like... Marvellous! We’ve seen good times and we’ve seen bad times! It’s been a rating bonanza!”

Keith wanted to vomit. The game was punishment for all of them. They’d all fucked up. They’d all let themselves fall prey to the delights of space

“With love and courage, we’ve watched these two fall in love, and wasn’t it glorious!?”

The crowd cheered wildly. Bob chuckled, before waving his hand to bring the cheering back down to silence

“I know! I know! I sat there and I listened. I listened to the things the Red Paladin said about himself. I watched as he died to save the Paladin who’d replaced him! And what did he get?! A broken heart! No! No I couldn’t accept that!”

Pressing a button on his remote, a dummy version of Lotor dropped from the ceiling. It’s eyes black crosses, clearly denoting a dead Lotor

“Why must he go through so much pain when the one he loved the most was too stupid to see him?! Then, the chance came! Our Red Paladin was on his last legs! A red heat setting in, threatening to claim his life. Now was the time!”

The crowd gasped, Keith tried to fight being held in place. He wanted to comfort Lance. None of this was right. Lance... he didn’t deserve this. Keith did. He’d been the narrow minded arsehole whole pushed Lance away rather than admitting he cared about him.

“None of us could have expected the adventure we’ve been on! Let’s give it up for our star couple!”

Lance and Keith both moved, forced to stand next to each other. They were so close. If Keith could just move his little finger he could loop it around Lance’s. What Lance must be thinking... Keith could almost hear the omega’s heart breaking in guilt

“Take a bow!”

They were forced to. Bob’s chuckling suddenly turned serious, kind as if when he spoke, they were the only ones to hear his words

“Without my intervention, all hope for the future would have been lost. You’re both profoundly young. Stupidity can only excuse so much. Don’t make me step in for a third time or you will not like the results...”

Bob’s tone snapped back to what it’d been before, smile back on his

“And with that, the Voltron Show comes to the end! I know! We’ve all been on the edge of our seats for so long! But these brave heroes must get back! They have a long journey before them. Give it up for Keith and Lance!”

As the crowd cheered wildly, and confetti fell from above again, Keith’s world swam. His stomach felt like he’d gone hurtling out of control as the world dropped away around him. Bob’s voice echoed in his ears, barely a whisper above the sound of his pounding heart “If you hadn’t followed, all would have been lost to you forever”

*

Bob could have been gentler with the awakening part. Keith felt smacked in the face as his alpha roared back to consciousness. Gripping his head, several long moments passed as everything sank in. He was back. They were out the game. He was back... Lance?!

“Careful there, number two! You’ve given us quite the scare”

Letting his hands drop, Keith blinked. The alpha’s eyes gritty from sleep. His hands felt... weird. As if this was him waking up in the game, rather than him waking up in the right reality

“Lance?!”

He had to know. His question coming out surprisingly loud for someone who’d been basically comatose

“He’s resting. His fever has broken and the bleeding stopped. Whatever happened to the pair of you? It’s been a full day since the others awoke”

A day? How could it have been a day. Turning in the direction of Coran’s voice, there was Lance. His blue eyes open...

“Lance... I...”

Lance silently tried to tell him something. The distance between them felt too much for him. He could have lost Lance. He’d let his hand slip from his and that could have been their last memory together. Keith finding his body awkward to move, reduced to crawling across the short distance to where his omega lay. Taking Lance’s hand in his hand, he was so fucking grateful to see those blue eyes open. His alpha so beyond relieved to see their mate was coming back to them. He’d been in a rut while he’d slept, Keith able to smell both he and Lance so thickly it was nearly suffocating. Lance now had the guilt of what had happened on top of being deathly ill. Thank god that the others had made themselves scarce

“Shhh, it’s okay. It’s okay... we’re awake again”

Weakly Lance tried to lift his arm, Keith taking his hand and raising it to his chest so Lance couldn’t let their hold go. He was going to have to be the cool and collected one. The one Lance could depend on, instead it being the other way around

“We’re here. We made it out”

“I’m... sorry... so... sorry”

Exhausted to the point of slurring, Lance’s scent took on hues of rotting citrus, Keith’s alpha interpreting it as like the worst scent ever. Even worse than Lance’s scent in red heat

“Shhh. I’ve got you. I’ve got you... your alpha’s got you”

Nothing outside of holding Lance close mattered, or really existed. Coran forgotten in the background already

“I... hurt...”

“Shhhh... I know you do, omega. Your alpha’s here. Your alpha’s got you... shhhh...”

The thrill of calling himself Lance’s alpha was dulled by his worry. Lance had grown so sickly while they’d been trapped in the game. As much as he hated that green fucking lump of snot, Bob must have worked some kind of godly magic to keep Lance from passing away. If they ever met again, it’d be far too soon for Keith’s liking. Lance needed rest. He needed love. More than his heart was broken, what he’d been through had devastated his body and mind.

“Number two...”

Snarling at Coran caused Lance to whimper, Keith trying to shift his scent to something more calming as he hushed Lance again. Stupid Coran. No. Not stupid Coran. Coran would have worked tirelessly to keep them all alive, especially the love of his life

“I’ve got him”

“If I may...”

He didn’t want to shut Coran out, but... but there was just so much in his head that he didn’t know which string of thought to follow, not when things were so knotted up

“Coran, I can’t... my alpha... my omega... He needs all of me right now”

Lance could still take a turn for the worst if he didn’t handle this right. Shiro had said only being knotted would save Lance from a red heat. Lance now so frail that he could not only give consent, but even if he did, Keith would never lay hands on him in this state

“What do you need, Keith?”

Accepting he was out of his depth, Coran told him so by using his name

“I need to focus on him. Please can you take care of the pack a little longer?”

“Keith, you’ve barely woken”

He should have been as limp and weak as Lance. This wasn’t a TV show where sleeping for weeks had no side effects. Shifting Lance to prepare to try lifting him, his alpha reassured him that moving Lance was the right step

“Let’s just say a green wanker seems to have helped... Lance, I’m so sorry for what I said. I was dumb. I am dumb. You’re the glue that holds the pack together”

Coran sniffled, missing what it meant for him to be calling Lance his omega

“What a beautiful display friendship!”

Nope. He wasn’t going to there. Coran sounded too much like Bob, any longer and he was going to start wondering if they really had made it back to their reality

“I’m going to help Lance clean up. Tell the team I’ll talk to them once things settle”

If they settled. No. He wasn’t going there either. They all knew they’d messed up, they’d all admitted their faults. Once Lance got over his embarrassment, they’d all sit down and have a good talk... especially over how Bob had nearly stolen Lance away from them and not the game malfunctioning.

[throwawaythewontons]

Perverse by nature

ao3 

(warning: nsfw, lesbian sex, slight objectification, internalized homophobia)

It’s not Richie’s fault per se. She doesn’t know where it’s coming from. Maybe it’s some part of some complex someone’s yet to name. maybe it’s the vaccines. Maybe she’s just horny. Maybe her parents didn’t love her enough as a kid.

Really, she’s always known. There is a name for it, but she’s not going to talk about that, because she doesn’t want to close any doors. It was comforting when she’d found out and slid so easily into the word it felt like a fat kid going down a waterslide. But she tells herself it’s not important enough to state out loud. Richie likes girls. It’s never been something she’s had to question or seek out, it’s just always been kind of, there. She’s always played with girls. Always wanted to be friends with them. Hold their hands. Touch their hair and put her hands around their waists.

It didn’t feel disgusting until started liking her best friend. It didn’t feel disgusting before she started looking at her boobs.

Elisabeth Kaspbrak (affectionately named Eddie) had been friends with Richie Tozier since kindergarten and for as long as Richie can remember she’s always been shorter than her. She was attracted to her, not in the same way she was attracted to Billie or Stan because they were made of the same matter. Because she simply didn’t put up with Richie’s antics, because she, herself, is someone to be put up with. Right from the first time she plopped down in the seat next to Richie and wiped the table down with hand sanitizer, Richie’s known. Though she was half her size, she was arguably twice as loud, twice as stubborn and twice now in…other regions.

(one could argue two times zero is still zero but back to the story)  

Eddie had spent that summer with her aunt, away from Derry and the other losers. She’d left two days after school ended, fiercely hugging Richie before she left. It was a getaway arranged by her mother (of course). Her excuse was that Eddie was going through a rebellious phase and that she needed to spend some time with good women of her family, being reminded of the right values again. During her getaway, Eddie had gone through an unexpected…growth spurt.

She’s still shorter than Richie. By far. But she’s filled out a lot more. A lot more. Well, they all have. Over the past years, they’ve all started wearing real bras, not the sports bras from the kids' section. Richie herself hadn’t filled out as much as she’d shed the weight of childhood, carving herself a new figure with sharp ribs and hip dips and boobs that weren’t even worth the effort of wearing a bra. Eddie however…

Christ, it wasn’t like she’d gone from zero to one hundred just like that. She’d always been a little curvier than the other losers (save for Bernadette). It just hadn’t been as noticeable before. Before the first day of Junior high, when Richie chained up her bike and Eddie came barreling towards her.

“Rich! Hey there loser!” she smiles wide and runs towards her. Her hair is tied up in a ponytail, two strands pulled out to frame her face (Richie had watched her tie her hair back enough to know how she did it. how she flipped her head back and pulled the elastic from around her wrist, smoothing the front down and then pulling two sections out from behind her ears with her pinkies). She’s wearing tennis shoes with calf-high socks, high waisted Bermuda-shorts, and a very tight, yellow polo shirt. Richie recognized that polo. It’s one of Eddie's favorites. It hadn’t been tight when she left.

Eddie barrels into her and wraps her arms around her. She’s wearing her bookbag and she’s warm like sunshine and smells so pretty. She’s pressing up against Richie and Richie can feel everything.

Warm. Soft. Big. Squishy. Boobies. Boobsboobsboobs.

Richie’s cheeks grow hot. Her entire face grows hot. She might be sweating. Something else feels hot too. She’s trying not to squeeze Eddie’s waist too tight. She wants to press her knees together. There’s a pounding in her lower stomach and it's begging her to reach down, reach out, grab.

Eddie has boobs now.  

Design within reach. Soft and firm at the same time. Perfectly grabbable and holdable. And how Richie wants to hold, even as she feels bile in her throat and a cold sensation spreading through her forehead and down her back. She’s shaking.

Eddie draws back, the hug itself only lasting a few seconds, and is telling Richie about her aunt. Richie huffs and grunts along as best as she can. She’s good with words, just not the right ones. She takes time to look Eddie over.

God. They must have grown like, three cups apiece. Or maybe one is bigger than the other? That’s normal, apparently. They stretch out her shirt like they’re trying to escape. Hey Richie! look at us! Has she even noticed? She walks like she hasn’t. talks and moves like she doesn’t even two, her poor shirt fighting for its life. It had been too small last summer. The only reason Eddie kept it was for sentimental values. Richie wishes she’d chucked it out. Is she even wearing a bra? Richie didn’t felt any bra during their hug, only the smooth expanse of her back. This was obscene.

It was downright pornographic.

Richie lifts her bookbag from her bicycle basket and feels as the cold begins to spread down her spine like poison.

This objectification, this ruff sexualization, fetishization of another girl’s body. It’s new. Of her friend. Of someone who should trust her. It’s sadistic. It’s vile. Eddie shouldn’t have to worry about her best friend ogling her like a piece of meat. Richie is no better than the old men who sit in front of the pharmacy, or the boys in the hallway who snap bras and look under skirts. She’s a sexual deviant and it’s never been more apparent, transparent or provocative.

She gratefully slips into a different classroom than Eddie. Never has history felt so relieving.

She doesn’t concentrate. The pounding between her legs had died down and she’s left with only the cold. Shame. She had always looked differently at girls. admired the soft curves of their faces and eyelashes. How they applied their Chapstick. Richie is grateful she’s not born as a man and isn’t sporting a hard-on right now. She can admire from afar. No accidental boners to squish. No telltales. Her nipples don’t even get hard unless directly stimulated, even if all the pornos are trying to convince her otherwise.

But wouldn’t it have been easier if she was a guy? Not because it would be forgiven for her to go rigid at a pair of tits, but because it would be expected of her? Perhaps everything is easier with a penis involved. Perhaps Richie is a dyke. The truth is somewhere in the pudding. Perhaps this is a fluke. A slipup on behalf of her pubescent brain. This is new and exciting, and her brain mistook it for arousal. With time it will fade away as all hyper fixations do. She might still like to hold Eddie’s hand in the movie theatre but they won’t be kissing while they do it.

For lunch, they meet up with the other girls and Bev. They all huddle together on their blue plastic benches like they always do. The table smells like cleaning supplies and library coffee. Eddie’s new boobs stretch and squish together as she talks with her hands and her thigh is brushing up against Richie. Did they get bigger too? Richie is too afraid to look. They’re sitting close like they always do, and for once Richie dreads it. well, that’s not entirely true. There’s always been a certain amount of risk in being around Eddie. she likes it like that. Pushing too close, too far. Someone catching her starring or reading the subtitles. But no one’s said anything like that. Maybe girls are allowed to be close like that.  

(perhaps it is easier, not because it is expected, but because it is forgiven)

What if they already know? What if it’s too late, too obvious and they’re just testing how far she will go. This just in: Richie Tozier really a lesbian? She is, as all high schoolers are, part of a game. A hierarchy. Many have framed it as a war, but really, it’s closer to a gameshow.

Will she start creeping on her classmates in the locker rooms. (“be careful, I think she’s a lesbian,” Drew Newman whispers behind her, she’s talking to the new girl in school. It’s 5th grade and Richie said she liked her t-shirt) will she take pictures of them in the shower? touch another student? Kiss another student? Cut her hair short like a boy and shove her giant nose in their pussies?

Richie quietly eats her sandwich. Stan is sitting across from her, carefully wiping her mouth after each of her fries, even if there’s no sauce. Next to her Billie is playing with Mikey’s hair, gently braiding and re-braiding a section as she speaks. None of them are looking at Richie.  

Is that what they look like to others? She and Eddie? two girls sitting on a bench braiding hair?

She knows no one can read her mind. Not even Stan. If they can they haven’t said anything yet, and Richie hopes they keep it that way. If you look objectively, they’re doing nothing. They’re sitting next to each other. They’re eating their lunch. Seeking occasional contact, as all primates do. But true objectivity doesn’t exist in humans, and that might be the scariest thing of them all to someone like Richie. Even the concept of objectivity is a subjective term because it’s a word and a concept, made up by humans and equipped with its own fair share of subjective weight. Humans are subjective creatures. Deeply so. Really, truly, are they just sitting next to each other?

Richie doesn’t claim to know the truth, only a version of it.

.

It’s a month later when Eddie comes over to her house. It’s been a month of Richie living in limbo, looking away and admiring from afar. She masturbates every night before going to bed now. It helps her sleep.

She wants to grab her tits. She wants to squeeze them and push them against herself. Kiss the bridge between them and press her face into them. lick them and suck at the skin around the areola. Rub her nipples. Kiss them. lick and suck them. she wants Eddie to grab onto her hair and gasp into the air. Wrap her soft thighs around Richie and ask her for more.

Richie sometimes fantasizes about what would happen, if she grabbed them at their lunch table. Or in the hallway. if she just went up to Eddie and started groping her, looking her directly in the face as she did it. what would happen?

In fantasy land, Eddie’s eyes widen and she looks up at Richie in shock. Her cheeks go red and her mouth goes silent. But she doesn’t stop her. She gasps and presses her body into Richie’s. She moans pathetically as she grabs onto her for support and her face crumbles in arousal. Her thighs push together when Richie starts playing with her nipples and kissing her neck. Others fade away in the background and Richie reaches down and hikes up Eddie’s skirt, rubbing her through her panties and she moans and fists Richie’s cardigan.

In the real world though, Richie knows. She knows that wouldn’t happen. In the real world, she wouldn’t even stand a chance. Eddie would jerk back, maybe even push her. She would be disgusted. Her eyes widen in horror as she realizes who she’s allowed close to her, who she’d been sitting next to, every lunch period for years. Who she’d shared her food with, her secrets with, her comic books and her bed with. They’d spent so much time together as kids, sleeping over at each other’s houses with the other losers. How many of those nights had Richie spent awake, staring at her? Touching her? The color returns to Eddie’s face as she shifts from disgust to rage. Hatred. The other losers at their table, the people in the hallway, now begin to whisper. Their teachers look on with pity and disappointment.

“Be careful…”

Right between the two fantasies, is where Richie comes. The first is her own creation. Her dramaturgy where she decides who plays who. Who does what. The second one is the fire that burns it all down, the second is the aftermath. The water that washes the paint off and reveals an ugly face underneath. She can’t say which is her favorite because it is one. One fantasy. one never comes without the other. It’s a euphoria that comes with high risk and Richie falls for it every time.

This must be how a cult is formed , she thinks, one night in her misery. One person gets an idea and others are looped in, promised an elation of life with no idea that there’s a shotgun pointed at their head. Is it possible to brainwash yourself?

She’s standing in her kitchen when she hears the doorbell ring. She puts down her Fanta as she goes to open the door. And of course, Eddie is outside.

“Hi Rich!” she’s wearing a white button-up cardigan and high waisted red shorts. She’s holding a blue shopping bag. Richie doesn’t recognize the shorts. But she knows the cardigan used to be Stans. It looks better on Eddie.

“hey there Spaghetti,” she leans into the doorframe, getting into character, “what brings you to my store?”  

“I wanna talk to you asshole. Also, stop calling me spaghetti, it’s annoying.” She pushes past Richie and toes off her tennis shoes. Richie lets her. She closes the front door and waits until Eddie is done.

“any particular topic?”

Eddie shakes her head. “no, just wanted to talk to you.”

Richie smiles and goes back into the kitchen, charmed by her abandoned Fanta can. Eddie follows and wrinkles her nose as Richie takes a sip.

“do you even know what’s in that stuff?”

Richie takes an extra loud sip, swishes it around in her mouth like Listerine and swallows.

“do you?”

Eddie squirms (to Richie’s amusement), “your parents are dentists. What would your dad do, huh? If he knew what a bitch you are?”

Richie burbs and blows into Eddie’s face. “applaud.”

“you’re an ass.”

Richie delivers what she calls her Hollywood-smile and stares Eddie in the face. Eddie herself is delivering an excellent battle face, jaw slightly pushed out and penciled eyebrows pushing together. She doesn’t mean it, neither of them does to the extent of their act, but it’s fun to perform their quick-paced comedy. Even if they are the only audience members. Richie, this time, is the one to put down her sword and blink.

“Seriously though, do you want a drink? There’s lemonade in the fridge.”

“I want tea,” Eddie drops the face and starts rummaging through their cupboards. Richie amuses at the routineness of Eddie’s movement.

It was not unusual for her to show up unannounced like today. Many Sunday mornings, Maggie and Wentworth could be sitting in the kitchen and enjoying their toast, and Eddie Kaspbrak would simply wander in and take a glass of juice without any of them even looking up. Most of the time though, Eddie would quickly disappear upstairs to Richie’s room. She finds everything without having to ask. It’s one of Richie’s favorite things about her. It’s proof of their friendship in the most literal way there is. through muscle memory. It’s not something obvious, but to the observant outsider, it’s undeniable. It’s a part of Eddie’s body that wasn’t there before. Because of Richie, it is.

She gathers all the things she needs in on the prickled countertop tiles next to the stove. A box of lemon-flavored teabags, a mug (adorned with the phrase “best dad ever”, a not very well-received Mother’s Day gift) and a jar of honey from the drawer below the silverware.

Richie watches her quietly from the corner, leaning on the wall next to the microwave. Taking her time to appreciate just what Stans cardigan is doing for Eddie. taking her time to be guilty about it later.

It’s times like this, with Eddie tinkering around her kitchen, that she slips into another fantasy of hers. A seldom one of her and Eddie being married. One where Eddie is her housewife, wearing a dress that Richie bought for her, a necklace that Richie bought for her, a ring Richie bought for her and standing in a kitchen in a house that Richie bought too. She’s cooking breakfast. Maybe there are kids in the background. Richie comes down from upstairs, where she’s shaved and brushed her teeth. She’s wearing a suit and holding a briefcase. Her short hair is slicked back, and Eddie fixes her tie before kissing her. Richie grabs onto her waist, squeezing her dress (it’s satin, no, maybe it’s a picnic dress, with red and white checkers, either way, it fits in all the right places) and lifting her thigh. The kiss grows deeper, Eddie’s heat is drawing her in, and Richie, in the real world takes another sip from her soda.

In this scenario, Richie is a man. It’s part of why she rarely indulges. She doesn’t want to be a man, but if she’s married to a woman, she must. it just makes sense. It can’t work any other way. In the same way that two plus two equals four. A man and a woman can get married Anything else, is not a marriage.

Eddie is not her wife. Certainly not her housewife. In real life, Richie doesn’t have a beard or a cock. She’s wearing jeans and her dad’s old Rolling Stones t-shirt, not a suit. In real life, she’s a teenage girl with a complex.

Eddie finishes her tea, puts all the supplies back (because she’s annoying and organized like that) and climbs up on the counter. her thighs are pressed together. She sways her feet and holds the mug between her hands. Richie is all but reminded of how small she is again. Her feet dangle over the floor. Richie knows if she wants to get down, she’ll have to use the nubs on their kitchen drawers to stand on if she doesn’t want her feet to hurt. Or she’ll have to ask Richie for help.

They stand in silence. Each with their respective drinks, like strangers at a bus stop.

She looks beautiful in the sunlight.

“Actually, I need a favor.”

Aha. So, no talking after all.

“I, uhm,” she’s still looking at her tea, but her hand fumbles to the blue bag next to her. It’s not until now Richie notices she’s brought it with her to the kitchen. She awkwardly hands it to Richie

“I need a place to wash this.”

Richie opens the bag and her heart skips a fucking beat.

It’s a bra. It’s Eddie’s bra. Two of them, actually. Richie can feel the slippery polyester through the bag. They’re plain. Underwire. One is grey and one is a soft pink.

“eh…”

She doesn’t know what to say. Fuck. How do you recover from something like this? Which one-liners are appropriate when your crush hands you a bag of bras? She’s blushing. This is bad.

“I’m sorry!” Eddie says, and she sounds like she really means it, “it’s just, I’ve grown a bit lately and I…my mom, you know how she is!”

“she won’t let you wash your underwear?”

“no but she…she doesn’t know I have it…”

Richie puts the bag down. This is going off the rails.

“what?”

Eddie sighs heavily. She tilts her chin upwards at the ceiling. The look of a pained soldier in her eyes. She’s frustrated, Richie can see her trying to fight it. but maybe there’s more. Something Richie knows all too well.

“I bought them myself,” she says, “my old ones don’t fit me anymore, and I was too scared to say anything to her. She hasn’t said anything yet, so I don’t know if she’s noticed. And it’s just…it’s hard to talk about this stuff to begin with! You know? But my mom? She’s…she’d freak out! she already thinks I’m hitting puberty too early even though I’m almost an adult. She says it’s because I’ve been drinking tap water, tap water Richie! Plus, my aunt is nagging me about modesty all of a sudden because she’s definitely noticed, and everyone keeps staring at me! Like, all the time! Mr. Harris? My fucking teacher? He keeps standing behind me in gym class and it’s really creeping me out. And I need to wash my fucking underwear so will you please help me?”

Richie watches her squirm. She doesn’t know what to say.

People are starring

Yeah, and Richie is one of them

But Eddie is right. Sonia Kaspbrak is a woman of a certain genre. If she knew that her little girl was anything over a b-cup, who knew how she would react. In Sonia’s narrow mind (praise who knew what was going on in there) this would read as a direct attack against herself. this would usually lead to a medicinal approach. At Eddie’s expense of course. Either way, it was awkward enough for Richie and her mother. Richie could only imagine how Eddie felt.

As for the rest of what she’d said. Richie would wallow in that later. Always later. For now, she does her best to be comforting.

“of course I’ll help you.”

Eddie sighs, “thank you.” She starts to climb down from the counter. Richie automatically puts down her drink and goes to help her. Eddie grabs her arm. She’s leaning on her. Not fully but almost. But she pauses momentarily.

“I knew you’d understand. You always do.”

Richie smiles, “what, you think I can relate?” she nods down at herself. in the white folds of her father’s oversized shirt, she looks like a boy.

Eddie licks her lips. “I don’t think it’s a matter of relating Rich.”

She says it so quietly, her brown eyes are staring up at Richie’s. her breath smells like lemons, and something secret. The inside of her mouth. Something that Richie would find gross if it wasn’t Eddie. she looks terribly open and beautiful. And Richie is, at that moment, mesmerized. She doesn’t notice Eddie slipping further down the counter and when she does, she stumbles. Richie grabs onto the first thing she finds before she realizes what’s happening.

Oh no.

Eddie’s eyes widen. Her lips part and a small gasp falls from her lips. Richie let’s go immediately. All the blood has drained from her face. She might faint. Her hand feels warm. Too warm. And the worst part is how tight her crotch is.

Soft. Warm. Smooth yet firm. And big. God, it was even better than she had imagined. Even if she only touched her for a brief second.

“sorry! I’m so sorry” Richie steps back quickly, Eddie slides the rest of the way onto the floor with a soft thud. Everything inside Richie is crumbling

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Richie it’s okay, it was an accident.”

“I’m sorry, everything you said…you just talked about how awful it is and I’m being part of the problem.”

“Richie…”

Richie plops down in a chair. it’s her moms’ seat. She stares at her hands. Her hand. She can’t look Eddie in the eye. She’s fucking up.

“I didn’t mean to…I don’t want to make it worse. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. Not because of me.”

The kitchen is heavy with silence. Richie can’t look at Eddie’s face right now. She can’t read her thoughts. Her feelings. Her judgment. But she can imagine. Eddie is shocked. Scared. She’s starring at Richie and wondering what to do now. what she’ll do to overcome this. Sweep it under the rug, so she can still be friends with Richie. Because Richie knows that’s how Eddie is. she’s used to pushing small things to the side. Forgetting accidents. Forgiving those she loves. Letting herself be violated.

Or she’s wondering how she can leave. Preparing herself to walk out of Richie’s front door and never coming back. Never being alone with Richie again. because of what she might do.

Richie is not coming back from this.

“Richie…” she repeats. Silent again. the same way she spoke just a minute ago. And it makes Richie look up.

Here it comes. Here comes the rejection. I think I should leave. Be careful…

Instead, Eddie steps closer. She holds her hands at her side. But now she gently grabs Richie’s hand and lifts it for her. She leads it up to her chest. presses it against her breast. Richie swallows. Her mouth tastes like sour Fanta. She barely dares to breathe; incase it scares Eddie. or maybe it scares herself.

Yet, Eddie compels her. as always.

“Eddie...”

She grabs onto Eddie. before she can change her mind. Her fingertips press into the fleshy body below her hand. It’s warm. Even through her clothes, she’s warm. Eddie’s lips part.

“I…I don’t mind it…” she whispers, “I don’t mind it when it’s you.”

Richie’s hands spring alive, she grabs onto Eddie firmly, bringing her left hand up to join. She grabs her boobs. One firmly in each hand, and squeezes. Hard. Feels their roundness, their firmness. Feels them press against Eddie’s cardigan. It’s too small. What is it with Eddie and wearing shirts that are too small?

Eddie lets out a chocked sound, too close to a moan, and Richie can’t take it anymore. Eddie’s legs are bending before Richie grabs her, but she pulls her down the rest of the way by her hips. She lands on Richie’s lap. Richie spreads her knees, so Eddie’s thighs are forced to follow. she’s heavy and hot. Pressing against Richie in all the right places. Her thighs, her ass, and her tummy are soft and warm too. Deliciously fleshy. Everything about her is so soft. She smells like peaches. Eddie grabs her cheek and presses their mouths together.

Richie might’ve fainted along the way. Maybe hours ago. She’s dreaming. She’s sleeping in her bed upstairs. Her head is spinning between Eddie’s hands. Her mouth feels exactly how she imagined, yet somehow, everything else. She’s real. That’s the main difference. She’s real. And Richie can touch her and kiss her as much as she wants. She can hold her here if she wants to. there are only two people in the world, as far as she knows.

Eddie is gasping into her mouth. Her hips are moving in soft circles as Richie fondles her ass. She’s looking for something. She might not even realize she’s doing it. Richie pushes her own hips up in return. Pushing them together. And as she does, she starts to undo Eddie’s cardigan. The small buttons slip out easily, and really, it’s a miracle they’ve been holding on so long. She breaks their kiss out into intermit pecking to watch soft skin appear bit by bit. Inch by inch, until the soft curve of her cleavage, is in full view. She’s even prettier up close. The bra underneath is black, but Richie does quick work of unclasping it. it falls around Eddie’s waist, caught in her cardigan. Eddie untucks it and Richie throws the bra onto the floor. The infamous blue bag is sitting somewhere on the floor too, and Richie trust they end up together. She, however, is occupied by Eddie.

She’s gorgeous. Her boobs are not as perky without her bra. They’re big and directly in Richie’s face, her nipples hardening in the cold. They’re directly in Richie’s face, and Richie’s mouth tingles. She leans forwards, wasting no time as she sucks on her right nipple.  

Eddie lets out a gasp above her, then she moans. Long and desperate, like she can’t stop it. Richie lets out a sound of her own, a sound she doesn’t recognize and presses Eddie impossibly closer. Her crotch is painfully tight, and she rubs up against Eddie in ecstasy.

“R-Richie~”

She’s grabbing onto Richie and Richie is grabbing back. She’s touching everything. Feeling, fondling, tracing, rubbing, pinching, sucking. There’s so much of her. So much to feel. To sense. To take in. she kisses the space between her breasts and her collarbones. Presses her lips against her chest and pulls her tits against her face. Engulfs in her heat. Kneads her right boob as she sucks on the other. An unending hunger pushes her further. Makes her sink deeper. Bite. Somewhere along the way, Eddie’s pants are unbuttoned.

“ah!...h-Rich..”

“Eddie.”

Eddie, again, takes her hand and guides her. This time downwards.

“touch me.”

Her zipper slides down further. dark red fabric parts to reveal olive skin, clean and untouched by the sun. paler than the rest of her. When Richie touches her there, her stomach flutters. She traces the rim of her faded yellow panties one time and dives in.

She’s hotter here than anywhere else on her body.

She’s not clean-shaven, but almost. The hairs are short and even. Neatly kept out of the way. Surprisingly in character. Richie feels all around the fleshy rim of her pussy, investigating. She’s never touched another girl before. But she knows the layout from herself. above her, Eddie has gone quiet. She leans back to look.

She’s holding her breath. Her eyes are closed and she’s biting the inside of her lip. Her nails are digging into Richie’s arm. She’s shaking. Richie watches her. This time she doesn’t look away. Stares at her. Savors her face. Every little wrinkle and curve. She presses her finger against Eddie’s clit. The dampness of her folds almost touches her hand.

“do you like it?”

“yes,” Eddies expression breaks into a gasp, “it feels…h…it feels really good…ah!”

Richie watches her. She watches her and keeps watching her as she rubs Eddie’s clit in rough circles. She’s warm and wet. Overwhelmingly so. Richie dives her fingers in between her folds to feel just how soaked she is. It’s bleeding onto the insides of her thighs, dampening the edges of her panties. Richie briefly pushes her folds apart to feel the edge of her hole. Then she decides against it and goes back to her clit.

“oh~Richie!”

She switches position, this time using two fingers to slide in on either side of Eddie’s clit and pushing them together. She alternates the pressure between the two until she’s rolling Eddie between her fingers. This way, she can go much faster. Eddie starts moving her hips with little rocks. Faster and faster. Her thighs were squeezing Richie’s, knees digging into her sides.

“Richie, Richie, Richie, Richie, Richie, Richie!”

She's pressed completely into Richie. her tits collide with Richie’s sweaty collarbones, her hair is in Richie’s face. Richie gladly buried herself in her. If there was any grave better than Eddie Kaspbrak…

Eddie

Eddie goes quite. She’s not breathing. Then comes with a shout, clutching onto Richie like a dying man. Her moans take shapes of sharp hysterical breaths. Soft liquid coats Richie’s hand that she later wipes off in her jean leg.

Gross.

Eddie would scold her about it that later

They sit in her mother’s kitchen chair for a few more moments with the sun hitting the back of Eddie’s hair. she’s worn it down today. She rarely does, save for Saturdays. But today is a Saturday. So Richie runs her hand through it. she’s breathing heavily on Richie’s neck and Richie thinks she might’ve fallen asleep.

“are you okay?”

Eddie isn’t asleep. She giggles. It’s a surprisingly adult sound. And Richie is hit with the passing of time again. She and Eddie are almost adults. Most would refer to them as young instead of children now. The sunlight makes it worse. Her hand is warm and tingles a bit. But that part might be her imagination.  

“Yeah, I’m great.”

“I’m still sorry about accidentally touching your boob by the way.”

“you’ve never been one to shy away from grabbing the bull by the horns.”

“grabbing the hottie by the hooters.”

Eddie sits back a little. Her shirt is still open. So are her shorts. she rolls her eyes. Richie leans in until their noses are touching.

“I’m not sorry about grabbing your boobs on purpose though,” She says, “and I hope to get to grab them again in the future.”

Eddie smiles. Her mouth stays closed. It’s a small and secret smile, with little wrinkles at the side. It might be a little embarrassed. But it’s full of what Richie hopes is love.

“I’m glad.”

They kiss a little bit until they hear a car door slam. Richie’s dad is returning from his tennis lessons, and Eddie quickly buttons up her shirt. They both stand up at Richie picks up the bra from the floor and stuff is into the blue cloth bag. Her dad enters the kitchen just as she closes it.

“hey-oh hi Eddie.”

“Hey Mr. Tozier,” Eddie smiles politely, and Richie grabs her hand.

“I think we’re gonna go upstairs dad,” she says and pulls Eddie out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. Her dad raises his eyebrows but doesn’t protest.

“Okay, you girls have fun…wait, Eddie, don’t you want your tea?”

“no thanks Mr. Tozier it’s cold by now!”

They close the door to Richie’s room behind them.

#reddie #lesbian reddie #it chapter 2 #it chapter 1 #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #lesbian eddie kaspbrak #lesbian richie tozier #reddie smut #reddie fanfiction #o.post

[la-vide]

Alexei’s Best Friend Headcanons

Requested by: Anonymous

Fandom: Stranger Things

- You hadn’t meant to stare at the bespectacled man. Well, you hadn’t meant to get caught staring at him. He just looked so out of place and utterly lost that it was hard to ignore him. That and he was blocking the sunlight trickling in from one of the few windows in your favorite bookstore.

- You also hadn’t expected a positively radiant, childlike smile to light up his face when you accidentally locked eyes. It was off putting for a second, but maybe you were just jaded.

- When he walked over to your plush chair, you were fully prepared to have to listen to some tasteless pick up line. Instead, he held out a scrap of paper fished from the depths of his pocket, still smiling. Tilting his head, he said something that sounded a lot like “dictionary.”

- Blinking, you took the paper and examined it. There were only three words scrawled in the messy, angular writing of someone in a hurry. Russian - English Dictionary.

- Did he think you worked here? It was as good a guess as any, to be fair. You’d been hanging around the shop since the first week it opened almost two years ago. If anyone knew the layout of this place, it was you.

- With a sigh, you unfurled yourself from the armchair and gestured for him to follow you. It was barely a moment before you stopped, pulled a book off the shelf, and placed it into the man’s hands.

- He glanced down at the cover, then back up to meet your eyes, beaming again, perhaps even more joyously this time. Shifting to tuck the book under one arm, he gestured towards his chest with his thumb. “Alexei!”

- You found yourself smiling back and gesturing towards your own chest “(y/n)!”

- You became fast friends after your first meeting. Alexei developed a habit of studying his dictionary (and subsequently various grammar books) in the back of the bookshop where you liked to sit and read your most recent purchases. It was only natural that you started talking (though it was more of a game of charades at first).

- Now that you’ve been friends for a while, Alexei’s English has vastly improved.

- The first time he told a joke in English you nearly cried tears of pride.

- Sometimes he gives you Russian lessons, but always ends up teasing you and laughing so hard that you have to tell him to shut up or face the consequences. You’re pretty sure you’ve learned more swear words than anything else.

- Slurpee runs, because of course. You always compare whose tongue gets dyed the brightest color.

- You take great joy in introducing him to new experiences - the more ridiculously American, the better!

- He fosters in you a newfound appreciation for cartoons.

- You introduce him to gameshows. It was a mistake. Turns out he’s really competitive when it comes to trivia.

- You set him up on a blind date once, which was a disaster.

- He tried to be your wingman once. That was also a disaster. You decided to stay out of each other’s love lives after that.

- If you’re sad, he brings you junk food from 7/11, because it makes him happy, so it should work on you, too, right?

- He talks to you about what he left behind in the USSR, and often it breaks your heart.

- Sometimes you look at him smiling and you’re filled with such pure, genuine, platonic love that you want to explode. How is this 6’ tall man with abs of steel an actual teddy bear?

- Joyce once asked him what his favorite thing about America is and he just gave a cheeky grin and said your name.

- Honestly, your friendship is just so pure and sweet. Despite the language barrier, there’s no one you feel closer to than each other. Whatever happens, you know this funky little Soviet has your back.

#Stranger things #alexei #alexei x reader #alexei smirnoff x reader #headcanons #stranger things headcanons #alexei headcanons #stranger things reader insert