#not much beta reading

[darkmuffinstudios]

Was bored and decided to create a silly little one-shot of Errormare for @inkywellcrow 🤭

Who knows, I might get more motivation to make more parts, I might not haha

Baking One-Shot (Errormare) (1.7k words)

Darkxsoulzyxcaliberx

Dream’s birthday (and by extension, Nightmare’s) was only a few days away, and the two most dastardly villains of the multiverse were in the middle of making something for it.

You see, after many decades of struggle, the two guardians grew weary of the constant back-and-forth and had since settled on a truce; No more bloodshed and no more overbearing war meetings. After so long, however, the two had long since forgotten times of peace. It was nothing more than echoes of what could have been, as well as what once was… So, as always in their relationship, Nightmare decided to be the first to extend one of many olive branches that will occur down the line.

To show a sign of good faith and to celebrate the occasion, Nightmare had his boys come up with gift ideas that they would give to his brother. The dark king had hoped that, whatever the gifts may be, that the action alone would show that he intended to support this truce and to keep friendly relations with his other half.

But asking a band of miscreants and murderers was a bad decision in hindsight, and so after many, MANY days of brainstorming, he eventually caved to Horror’s insistence on a birthday cake.

Which brings us to the present…

“Error, you’re whisking batter, not pummeling it into submission.” Nightmare scolded lightly. He wiped his hands on the apron he was wearing, trying not to get too irritated at how sloppy of a job his partner was doing.

“This is stupid.” Error grumbled.

“Error— slower, slower.”

“Don’t— !” His body locked up at Nightmare’s complaining, and he drastically slowed down his pace to a glaringly slow tempo. He gave Nightmare a frustrated look, to which the king easily brushed off. “Don’t tell me what to do. I read the recipe too.”

“Uh huh.” Nightmare deadpanned, setting a metal tray on the counter. “You're also as blind as a bat without your glasses, my dear.”

“They would have just got in the way.” Error huffed. After a few more mixes, he decided that surely was enough of that, and he dropped the bowl into the counter with a loud CLANK. “There. Done mixing.”

Nightmare rubbed his temples. What was that method of reducing stress? Counting back from five? Whatever it was, it surely wasn’t working as well as he had hoped. “Please don’t slam the bowl down.”

“Mmhm.” Error leaned against the counter, dismissive.

For his own mental (and Error’s physical) wellbeing, Nightmare opted to ignore him for a little while. Once he sprayed down the baking pan, he glanced over Error’s work. There was still some dry clumps of the batter mix floating around, but he wasn’t going to correct any of it since he knows how much his partner loves to throw his tantrums. Besides, Dream has been a pain in his ass for decades— the least he can do is crunch on some raw flour to save him from future headaches.

Carefully, he lifted the bowl and poured the mixture into the baking tin. Using a tentacle, he grabbed a spatula he set out beforehand to scrape any excess, and quietly put the bowl down. He gave Error a mild look.

Error met his gaze and paused, looking to either side of himself. “… What?”

“That’s how you put a bowl down. Silently.” Nightmare said, his voice dripping honey and tar.

“Oh, fuck you.” Error griped, rolling his eyes so over dramatically that his head went with it. Nightmare couldn’t help but smile at how stupid he could be.

After making his point, he walked over to the oven with the pan. After opening it with a tentacle (fashioned with a cute little baking mitten), he placed the pan inside and shut it with his hip. Making note of the time, he finally allowed himself to slump against the counter.

Nightmare looked up at the ceiling. How the hell does Horror do this every single day? Willingly?? He couldn’t even imagine how difficult it would be to order his men around such a small space, never mind how destructive all of them already are. Just the thought started to give him a headache…

“So,” Error started. “Why didn’t you ask your uh…” He thought for a moment, his body glitching a little from the effort.

“Horror?” Nightmare offered.

“Yeah— the big, freaky guy— to do this for you? Doesn’t he do this stuff already?”

Nightmare sighed. “… Well… Monster food is magic—”

“Uh. Yeah— I know.”

“I know that you know—“

“Then why say it—?”

Nightmare turned and glared at him. “Just let me talk!” Error held up his hands defensively, glaring right back at him for a moment, before Nightmare eventually continued.

“Well, because monster food is made of magic, then cooking monster food involves magic too. It incorporates the chef’s intent, and can communicate unspoken feelings through each bite.” Nightmare idly messed with one of the spoons on the counter, staring at the oven glass as he spoke. “To put it simply, it has to be made by me. I may not be the best at baking, but he will understand and appreciate the gesture anyways. He is that kind of guy, unfortunately.” He scoffed.

“So why drag me into this?” Error groused. “I couldn’t care less about making ‘Mr.Sunshine’ feel any better than he already feels.”

“Oh.” Nightmare turned to flash a smug look at Error. “Because I didn’t want to suffer alone.”

Error stared at Nightmare. For a long, long moment. A quiet, high-pitched sound began to come from Error’s body— the telltale sign that he was starting to crash. “You’re joking.”

Nightmare shrugged. “Am I?”

Error grabbed the whisk from the counter, chucking it with all his strength at Nightmare. “YOU ASS!! I COULD HAVE LEFT AT ANY TIME?!?”

The king chuckled, letting the whisk hit his shoulder. “Of course you could have. You weren’t obligated to do any of this.”

Error threw his arms around, already hellbent on destroying the kitchen. He ripped the toaster from its electrical socket, threatening to throw it on the ground when Nightmare continued. “But you stayed because you love me.”

That got Error to freeze in place. He stared at Nightmare, bewildered for a few seconds, before slowly lowering the toaster onto the counter. “… Whatever.” He mumbled, stewing.

Nightmare smiled at Error’s obvious admission of defeat, finding himself slowly walking over to him. He stopped a good few feet away, settling on leaning against the counter once more. “You love me, and wanted to help me because you loved me.” He teased lightly.

Error bristled. “I will leave!”

“But then I’d be so sad if you did.” Nightmare touched his own chest, right over where his apple soul would be. “All alone… abandoned…”

Error huffed, crossing his arms. “Good! Feel bad!! Feel bad for tormenting me for HOURS while I slaved away in this kitchen for you!!”

“It was only an hour, dear.” Nightmare chuckled.

“NUH UH!! You’re wrong!!” Error scowled, swinging an arm out to the side and ripping a portal open to a random, unsuspecting world. He gestured wildly to the setting sun. “See!! HOURS!! It’s already growing dark!!”

Nightmare rolled his eye. “Mmhm.” He knew he wasn’t winning this fight.

Error smiled triumphantly, leaning a little closer to Nightmare. The portal fizzled next to them, disappearing soon after. “Apologize.”

Nightmare raised a metaphorical eyebrow at Error. “For what?”

“For being mean and awful and terrible!” Error demanded, counting on his fingers as he went.

Nightmare rolled his eye for the second time. “Mmmmmmno. I don’t think I will.”

Error leaned back, pouting now. “Asshole.”

Nightmare sighed. A brief moment of silence grew between them as they waited for the cake to bake before Nightmare sighed again, shoulder sagging. He looked at the clock hanging on the far wall of the kitchen, then back at the oven glass. The cake wasn’t rising at all.

“… Do you think he will like it?”

Error didn’t look at Nightmare, arms still crossed. After another beat of silence, Error’s shoulders sagged a little and he quietly responded. “What do you mean.”

Another beat of silence. Error didn’t like it. He turned back to glance at Nightmare, only to see the other have his hands folded against his chest in a sort-of self hug. His tentacles were curled inward on themselves, and Nightmare hadn’t looked up once from the oven glass.

It bugged Error. He tried again, softer. “What... do you mean by that?” Nightmare sighed again, a third time, and it was starting to get to Error. He shook his head. “No one hates chocolate cake. If I find out he does, I’m throwing him.”

“Not the cake.” Nightmare answered quietly, though he did smile a little at Error’s threat. The spectacle of the destroyer of worlds tossing his brother like a football was amusing, to say the least. He gestured vaguely, trying to find the right words. “My… message.”

“Message?” Error echoed, clearly confused.

“My intent.” Nightmare tried instead. “It’s… I want this to go well. I want this to be our first steps in making up with one another, and I tried to put as much as I could into this cake… I tried to not fill it with…” he sighed, the fourth time. “… with my lingering feelings of the past.”

Nightmare raised a hand. “I’m certain I didn’t, and I know this won’t make up for everything that has happened between us… but…” He slowly brought his hand back towards himself, back to where it was wrapped around his chest. “I don’t know… I lack the proper words at the moment.”

Not that Error needed all of the words to understand. He thought a little bit before he spoke. “That’s why you asked me to help you with this.” The dots started connecting more in his head as he turned to Nightmare. “You didn’t want to do this alone.”

Nightmare considered Error’s words. “… I suppose I didn’t.”

Error stared at Nightmare, trying to get maybe just a little bit more out of him, before turning to look back at the oven. “… I think he’ll like it.”

“You think so?” Nightmare’s voice sounded uncertain.

“Yeah.” Error shrugged. “He is that kind of guy, like you said.”

Nightmare smiled a little. “I guess you’re right.”

#darkzyx #undertale au #undertale fandom #utmv #undertale multiverse #Undertale multiverse oneshot #utmv Drabble #sanscest #errormare #utmv nightmare #nightmare sans #error sans #utmv error #nighterror #they are so gay your honor #it’s been forever since I’ve last wrote stuff #I’m super rusty #not much beta reading #we die like men #I wrote this on my ipad so I’m hoping there aren’t too many mistakes

[grimesgirll]

“good fucking girl.”

is definitely not something rick should be saying to his best friend’s girlfriend - especially not with his cock halfway down her throat.

the moment shane had stepped out for a run with glenn and michonne, you and rick were all over each other. you couldn’t handle sneaking into rick’s bed down the hall anymore. you were bound to end up in his lap on the sectional, pawing at him like a bitch in heat.

it’s not that shane didn’t fuck you; he took every chance he got. you’re just enamored with rick. ever since your boyfriend had “shared” you with his fellow officer, rick had been on your mind.

the way his brown constable’s jacket fit against his muscles when they flexed. the glint of his chocolate curls. how good he is with judith.

rick gets you goin’ in a way shane hasn’t for quite some time. he was right when he got you down on your knees back at the rest stop. you did look at rick like you wanted to drain him and then have him bend you over and fuck you silly - and that’s what ended up happening.

ever since that day, shane got off on toying with you and having you sit on rick’s cock in addition to his own. he uttered excuses about the stresses of their new duties as constable but you just slid down your denim skort and squealed the occasion away.

you’re quiet now, nice and muffled on rick’s dick as you swallow around him. the motion has him twitching in your mouth. wanting to finish off inside of you for the night, the thick length in your mouth is withdrawing and suddenly you’re in that familiar face down position again.

“so wet, baby,” rick remarks in awe as his length brushes your slippery entrance.

you’re squeezing your thighs together - trapping him between the pillowy soft surfaces. “rick,” you cry. “c’mon, already.”

“what’d we say?”

you swallow, a tear from how needy you are sliding down your cheek. “please, sir.”

you could care less if shane walked in right now. as long as rick keeps driving his hips into yours and breathing your name like a prayer, you’ll be content. content to get fucked silly by the man before he takes you in his arms and spends the night with a hand on your waist and his nose buried in your hair.

that’s after though.

now, you’re being nearly fucked up the couch.

rick’s just enjoying the way your sweet little cunt grips him like it needs him. the little thing sucks him in even better than your mouth.

and you’re a whole other story. sweat sticking to your glistening forehead, you’re babbling incoherent thoughts, strung out on the cock molding you to his shape.

your slick is pooling around rick like he’s in the fucking atlantic. so close to losing it all over him already, you’re making an absolute mess of the couch that you’ll have to resolve before shane gets home. don’t want him suffering from any fear of missing out.

the man is swept from your mind when rick absolutely crams his cock inside of your clinging cunt. the kiss to your cervix is enough for you to start seeing spots around the older man making you take his cock so well.

every time you park your pussy on rick’s thick dick and come, you ground down, grasp his hand, do anything to get as close as possible. feeling him to skin to skin is second only to feeling him fill you up. the filthy praises coming from his lips come close as well.

“fuck, baby, so nice and tight. you want me to come inside you, huh? have shane come home to this pussy all messy?”

you’re shaking your head like you have any idea what you’re asking for. “yes, rick! i want you to make a mess of my pussy.”

“then come all over this cock, honey.”

“mhmm, rick, i-,”

“that’s it.”

“i love how deep you are, rick-,” you’re bumbling like an idiot and muttering a string of “i love you”s as the dam bursts and you come undone on rick’s cock.

the pulsing warmth beneath you is accompanied by a husky, “i love you too,” and a chorus of your name into your shoulder as rick used his horsecock to fuck you two through your climaxes.

the friction on your clit heightens the heat surrounding you and flooding into you from rick. you’re almost overwhelmed by the bruising kisses rick purples onto your neck as he gathers you on top of him.

“you did so good, honey,” he’s praising you and you’re just nodding, humming, “thank you”s and “i know”s until he’s bear hugging you again. the way he nuzzles into your neck from behind and exhales into your hair is enough for you to forget trudging up to bed and drift off into rick’s touch right there.

you’re already asleep in his arms but he takes the time to stroke your hair and kiss up and down your temples. god, he loves getting this time with you to himself - even if you’re asleep.

with you pressed against him and your heartbeat thrumming, the world is still and rick realizes something - he’s never letting you go.

#the walking dead #rick grimes #shane walsh #rick grimes x reader #shane walsh x reader #rick grimes smut #shane walsh smut #twd #twd smut #twd imagine #twd rick #rick grimes imagine #rick x reader #shane walsh imagine #jon bernthal #andrew lincoln #not beta read #blowy #p in v sex #the pt 2 no one asked for #ditzy thought fr #angst #I had so much fun writing this #the best fics are spontaneous #grimesgirll

[nicole-alt-delete]

It was a hot summer day in Hawkins and the kids had dragged them into helping with some game once again. Eddie was more than thrilled to help, Robin had managed to escape with Nancy on a "supply run" and Steve was currently taking orders from Max, the only one of them who'd remembered to say please.

Eddie wasn't really sure what the end goal was but it seemed like they were one step away from LARPing- just changed the name so Max and El would still play. He was helping Will by carving this big fuck-all stick into a cane for him when the gravel behind him crunched under someone's feet, and a second later Steve was saying "Hey, I'm borrowing this- Thanks-" Not stopping for the answer before Eddie felt a tug at his back pocket.

He instantly whipped around, spluttering, "Absolutely not-"  and before Steve could even take a step he was fiercely gripping his black bandana taut between them like the world's saddest game of tug of war. Steve loosened his grip a little, making a point of not tugging on it or ripping it, just looking confused as he waited for an explanation.

Eddie blushed for a moment, realizing the position he'd put himself in, how protective he got over a little piece of fabric. He stammers for a second, "I- you can't just- I need that man,"

Steve quirks an eyebrow at him, clueless. "What do you mean you need it? It's been in your pocket every day and I've only seen you actually wear it once. C'mon just for today- the girls don't have any hair ties and I need to put my hair up, it's killing me,"

He sighs a little, fully aware there's nothing reasonable he could say to Steve here. He very much cannot tell him that he *needs* it just in case some hot guy walks by and happens to know what it means. That's ridiculous- especially when the guy he most wants to see it is the one tugging it away from him in the first place. Steve has no idea what it means and Eddie doesn't expect him to but it still drives him insane thinking that it could happen.

Alternatively, the idea of Steve putting his hair back with Eddie's bandana drives him a little insane too.

So he blushes, sighs, and lets go of it. Points at Steve firmly, "You better give that back Harrington, or I swear-"

Steve smiles and starts walking backwards with it, already rolling it up into a hairband as he cuts him off, "Yeah, I know Eds, you can hold it against me forever, promise,"

He runs off back to the other kids and Eddie shakes his head at him, flustered and annoyed, and forgetting himself until Will clears his throat behind him.

He doesn't say anything but he's smiling and making this little face as he looks away from Eddie, like he knows something.

"So uh. The stick?"

"Right- yes- stick- cane- it's a cane for a mighty wizard, let's go,"

--

He didn't think he'd notice it so much, but the empty feeling in his pocket is driving him crazy. He'd been wearing that stupid thing since he learned it was a thing people do- a stolen trip up to the city on a bus he snuck onto, a weekend as a runaway before he sucked it up and went back home.

Someone had called him queer and he turned expecting a fight only to see a group of freaks who stood out more than himself. They had smiled and asking him why he was all alone, and been worried. One wanted to make sure Eddie hadn't been kicked out. Another wrapped her scarf around him, and before he knew it he was in the back of a gay bar with people he'd never met and felt like he could tell anything to.

The idea of proudly wearing something that singled him out- but only to the right people- made his hart light up. It was like a new language, like thieves' cant, something secret and magic.

He'd spent hours asking about colors and being confused and rightfully embarrassed by more than a few of the answers. Some sounded better than others, some made his face flush. At the end of the day he felt better than he had in ages and he had the courage to go back home to Wayne.

Before he got back on a bus he stopped into a second hand shop and grabbed the first black bandana he could find. He debated the whole ride home which side to put it on. When he walked back up to the trailer door ready to apologize, it hung proudly out of his back left.

--

Eddie had let Steve wear it home and it was killing him, but they had stayed out late and he half forgot anyways, and Steve's hair did look pretty cute pushed back like that. Steve had promised to give it back anyways, and Eddie trusted him fully.

He just also really, really, really wanted it back as soon as possible.

So for once he got up before noon (barely- just after eleven,)  and made his way to Family Video and hopped Steve had left it in his car or something so that he could get it back then and there.

What he wasn't expecting was to walk in and see Steve bent over behind the counter with the damn thing hanging out of his right pocket, as if he had any goddamn idea what that meant.

Eddie nearly had a heart attack and was thankful the store was empty like it always was so he could sprint over, jump the counter and yank the thing out of his pocket immediately.

"What do you think you're doing wearing it like that?!"

Steve had barely registered the jingle from the door, let alone Eddie launching himself at him, and was thoroughly surprised to say the least, nearly knocking over a display as he reacted.

"Hey!  Jesus man- you can't be- what's the big deal??? That's exactly how you wear it all the time- I was just keeping it safe til I saw you again,"

He stared at Eddie properly confused, a little on guard still from how suddenly he had leapt over and how worked up he seemed.

Eddie took a deep breath and sighed, folding the bandana up in his hands and just holding it for a moment, debating what to tell Steve.

After a second Steve makes this little head movement like 'well? go on?' clearly waiting for an explanation and Eddie rolls his eyes and sighs.

"It's- Look, Stevie, you can't wear it like that, you're not- I mean it's. It's like- a symbol, okay?"

Steve leans on the counter and frowns, confused.

"A symbol?"

"Yes- yeah, like- like those little cross necklaces moms wear or Dustin's star wars shirts. They're symbols....for the same kind of people to pick up on,"

He struggles with the words, trying hard to insinuate just enough without giving it all away, still hesitantly afraid of Steve's reaction.

But Steve just looks thoughtful. Nodding a little, putting a finger to his lip as the gears turn.

"So- okay, what's it symbolize then?"

He'd been hoping Steve wouldn't make it that far.

"It's- uh. It's really not..."

Steve stares, "Man I'm not gonna judge you- just- why's it such a big deal that I can't wear it like that too?"

Eddie can't help but laugh, "If anyone who knows what it means saw YOU with it- you would- no, you'd set yourself on fire I'm sure of it,"

He shakes his head, holding the bandana tighter in his fists.

Steve only frowns though, "Eds, what's it mean? If you don't tell me I'll just get my own and wear it until someone else does,"

Eddie looks mildly terrified by the idea but laughs at it all the same. "No- No, god do not do that Harrington-"

"Then tell me,"

"I can't, it's really-"

"Eddie, I'm gonna steal it back,"

And he does, reaches for the bandana in his hands as Eddie pulls away, the two of them starting to bicker and wrestle for it, each equally stubborn until the point that Steve actually does manage to grab it.

The tension gets to him and Eddie can't help it anymore, he just blurts, "It means I'm gay, Steve!"

It makes Steve pause and Eddie uses the moment to grab it back and quickly shove it in his back pocket again, blushing furiously and hoping Steve doesn't take it too badly.

Steve's mouth opens a little to say something in response, but the door jingles and his head snaps to it, Eddie instantly hitting the floor because he's still behind the counter where he most certainly should not be.

A man comes in and asks where the new releases are and Steve happily helps him, leaving Eddie plenty of time to crawl out from behind the counter and sneak out. He almost gets away with it too, but the door opens again, jingles and Steve twists his head.

"Eddie, wait- We're not done- I'll talk to you about this later!"

Eddie doesn't look back at him as he runs out the door past Robin who had been bringing lunch back for her and Steve. She tries to greet him but he just blurts "Gotta go, Buckley," and darts past.

If he'd looked back he would have noticed how red Steve's face was. Part 2

#Nico's writing #ficlet #steddie #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #st4 #Stranger Things #i found this in my wip docs and realized i forgot about it??? #so i figured i'd post this much and see if it convinces me to finish part 2 👀 #also uh i did not beta read this so #be kind

[gauloiseblue]

If I were a good man / I'd understand the spaces between friends

(König × Reader)

I'm a sucker for a childhood friend AU, but combined with the obsessed, loyal dog AU? I'm gone. I'm further than gone.

Words: 4.7k

König isn't the type of man who believes in superstitions, but he'll never buy you shoes.

It's something that's been engraved in him, since he saw his mother leave the house, with the shoes he bought for her. She only looked over her shoulder once, watching him with tears before she turned away, and never came back.

His father was an angry man, and all he did when he went to an empty home was to blame him.

The scars that his father left on his body weren't as painful as the wound that his mother left in his heart. She abandoned him. Leaving him with an angry man in the house.

Sometimes, when he wasn't busy loathing, and resenting his mother, he brood over the choices that she made. Why she abandoned him. Why she didn't take him with her.

Yet what came was an echo, and he found himself biting his lip until it bled.

He carried his feelings around, to the point that it's clear for anyone to see. People began to avoid him, though some of them would tease him for the things he didn't have.

And all of them would end up with a broken bone.

He was trouble. He was hideous, inhuman, and it's only natural for people to look away from him.

That was, until he met you.

It was horrible for both of you, since you both were like oil and water. But you had no choice, since the teacher assigned you as a volunteer to help him with his grade.

He didn't hide his vexation when you tutored him, and he knew you're holding back your irritation inside. It was hell, but it was him who fed the fire. You were patient, but you had your limit. He knew it'd come to an end someday, but it came not in the way he expected.

It was the fifth day of your lesson, and the day you resigned as a volunteer. He couldn't remember exactly what he said, but it made you snap as you slam your fist on the table.

"I'm sorry that you have a shitty life and sorry your mother left you, but have you ever been kind to your mother when she's still around?"

He snapped back at her, telling her it's none of her business, but when she left him, something clicked in him.

Have you ever been kind to your mother?

Just like the wind, she swept away the mess, letting him see what's underneath. It's not always an echo, it's not always a wall, he just needed to take a step back and see.

It was disorienting, as if he had learnt something forbidden—something that's only reserved for the watcher in the sky. But he did, and it's all because of her.

Have you ever been kind to your mother?

Have you ever been kind to the one who held your hand?

You held his hand, you pulled him from the dark place, and all he did was to make you leave. Just like what he did to his mother.

Several days after the fight, he came to you with a silence that's strange. You thought he was possessed when he muttered out the word sorry.

"I'm sorry." He mused as he kept his face turned from you.

You heard your friends gasping, while you tried to make sense of the situation.

"Sorry?"

"Should I get on my knees when I apologize?"

"No—" Your eyes widened when he hunched down, "Of course not! Let's uh, let's talk somewhere else. You and I."

You pushed him out of the crowd, and into the empty room. In the space full of unfinished art, he confessed his mistakes, and all the things that he did wrong to you. You gaped at him when he bowed down, with a honesty that you didn't know existed.

He was given a second chance when you accepted his apology, and he saw it as a way of repentance.

The two of you became friends, despite of the strange dynamics that you both shared. Your friends teased you when he's around, saying that he's more of a guard dog than a friend. You'd explain in fluster that it's not true, that he just wasn't used to having someone around, but he didn't deny it. He did follow you around after all.

When you helped him with his study, he quickly found that he's weak academically—except for history. He didn't know what drew him into the topic, but he's always fascinated by great events, including war.

Perhaps that's the reason why he joined the military.

When he told you about his plan, you were quiet as you listened.

"I'm glad you've found your way," You commented, "You'll certainly fit in in no time."

He looked at you, as he sensed a continuation.

"But…" You sighed, as you rubbed your neck, "I just… don't want you to get hurt. You've suffered enough, and I don't want you to go through it again." You shook your head, before giving him a smile, "But it's your future, I don't have a say in this."

The silence filled the room as you looked away, and he kept his eyes on you, before he reached out to touch your hand. "It's the only thing I knew I'd do it right. I don't have any talent, and I don't live a normal life, so," He squeezed your hand, "It's the only way for me."

You pressed your lips into a thin line, as you didn't say anything further.

The night he's leaving for the army, he walked aimlessly, before his feet carried him to your home.

Your window was closed, and the lights were dimmed. You might’ve been sleeping, but he wanted to see you for the last time. He picked up a pebble by his boot, and threw it to your window. Carefully, as to not break the glass.

That was the only time he's been the softest. In his hand, everything breaks. But that night, the window didn't shatter.

You peeked through the curtain, before you pushed it open upon seeing his face. You stare at him, dumbfounded, as you asked him the obvious question.

"What are you doing here?" You hissed.

"I wanted to see you." He replied.

"It's late, my parents will kill you if they see you here."

"Won't be a problem."

You were ready to scold him, before he suddenly jumped, and grabbed on your window railings. You closed your mouth as you watched him climb, before he landed on your floor.

"You're crazy."

"I've heard it a million times."

"No, you're really crazy. You're insane, mad, not—"

"—right in the head?" He grinned, "Call me something else."

You let out a long sigh, as you pressed your hand against your forehead.

"Alright." You huffed, "Why are you here? Are you trying to scare me before you leave?"

"I told you I wanted to see you."

"And why did you want to see me?" You tilted your head, "Is this a goodbye?"

"No." He replied as he leaned against your window, "I wanted to say thank you."

You raised your brow when he said it.

"I'd still be in the dark if I never met you." He told you with ease, as if it wasn't a confession of the heart, "Thank you. I mean it."

He didn't say anything, as the words sinked into you. Your face softened, as the tension melted away from your body. He was surprised when you pulled him into a hug, but didn't utter any complaint.

"I'm happy for you." You murmured against his chest, "Write me a letter, okay?"

He said yes to a promise he never fulfilled.

It's not that he didn't want to write to her, he just thought that it's never good enough. He wasn't good at talking, moreover retelling his day in a letter.

It didn't mean he carried no guilt in his heart. It was a promise, something that he should've kept after all. But his days were terrible, he was terrible.

He couldn't pass the sniper's test, he made several mistakes in the missions, and he couldn't make any friends. It was when he's away from you that he began to appreciate your company. You put him at ease, and he never felt the need to hide himself. He could say what he wanted, and you'd just scold him if it's wrong, but you didn't leave him. You didn't treat him like a plague.

Sometimes when he felt weary, he'd imagine you beside him, telling him about your day instead. He wondered what you're doing, and how you're feeling that day. He wondered if you're reading a new book, or you're getting ready to sleep. It comforted him when he kept the phantom of you by himself.

He didn't count the day, and he just let it pass. One or two times, he thought of you when it's holiday. He wanted to go back, but he didn't have home anymore. He left it the day he went to the military, never to return.

He always hoped you'd send a letter to him, telling him about your thoughts, even the most insignificant. He wanted to hear from you, just so he knew you're still thinking of him.

Unfortunately for him, he heard about you from other people.

He was on a rescue mission when he met his former classmate, the one he broke his nose in a fight. He spoke to him like a friend, and treated the incident as something that's in the past. He told him about the school, and the update about their classmates.

That's when he found out about your relationship.

He didn't hear the rest of it, as his ears were ringing. He knew you weren't his, but he couldn't help but feel betrayed. Was that the reason why you never wrote to him? Because you're too busy with your boyfriend?

That day, he almost failed the ops because he went on a rampage.

It was supposed to be a quiet mission. Secure the site, and escort the hostages out. But he rammed through the door, and killed everyone on sight. Though he didn't harm the hostages. He received a penalty from his General, and he's never again received a delicate mission.

But he's a strong man, he could easily take down the whole squad if he's angry enough. His anger was just like his father's, violent, and combustible, and it was a boon in volatile battlegrounds.

It earned him a higher rank faster than his peers. Since he was efficient, despite of him destroying everything in his wake.

Years went by, and he began to forget about his hometown. Until one letter arrived, informing him about the death of his father.

It had been foreseen, since the amount of alcohol he consumed could rival the sailor's.

He didn't want to go back, but he had to tie up loose ends if he wanted to be completely free from his father.

His hometown was still the same, except for a few stores that had closed, and a few of the new ones. His house didn't undergo any change, it's still messy, with bottles and bottles scattering around the floor.

His father died on the sofa in the living room, and he could still see him there, sitting down, drinking himself to death. There's no longer an angry man in the house, but his rage still lingered in the room. As if refusing to pass.

They said when you're worn out, you'd seek comfort just as you seek fire in the winter. So when he walked out of the house, aimlessly and unthinking, he found himself striding to your house, unconsciously.

He's never a lucky man, but that day, the Goddess smiled at him. You were just about to leave when you saw him by the gate. He saw your frowned, before your eyes lit up as you recognized him.

"I told you to write me letters, you bastard."

He opened his mouth to answer, but you already pulled him into a hug, interrupting him from replying.

"Welcome back." You told him as you squeezed his arms.

Since then, he has spent more time with you more often. Whether by talking, or enjoying each other's company. She helped him with the paperwork, as he was busy with his father's burial. When it's all over, he told her his desire to sell the house.

You opposed it at first, before he explained that he's planning to move his home. His house was old, and there's several new apartments around. He was alone, and he wouldn't stay for long, so a little room would be enough for him.

He ended up buying a smaller house, for you he was convinced that he'd find the use for it someday. And he did, he did find it when he looked at you.

But he was afraid. Afraid that you'd reject him despite of your current status. You weren't dating anyone at that time, and it should be easy for him to enter your life. Yet all he offered, was for you to use the house.

"I'll be gone for months, so I need someone to take care of the house." He said, "Why don't you live there? It's closer to your college, isn't it?"

It was a good offer, but you refused it politely. Saying that it's not necessary, that you didn't need that. The next morning, he went back to the base, feeling dejected, wondering if he should've been braver.

This time, he kept his promise. He wrote letters to her, although it'd take about 3 months before he could write more than five sentences. Sometimes they'd talk through phones, and he'd listen to your rambles about your day. When he talked, he mostly told her about his job. He was cocky about it, but you pulled him down to the ground somehow. He didn't realize it, until all of his teammates pointed it out to him.

He didn't come back at Christmas, and he spent his time lounging around the empty base. You were busy that day, but you made time to call him in the evening. It was short, but it was the nicest thing someone ever did to him. And when you hung up, he stared at the phone for minutes, wondering if he should've just gone home instead.

When you graduated from college, he took his day off to attend the ceremony. You were surprised, but glad nonetheless. Your family was present as well, and they shot him funny looks every time you talked to him. It wasn't until your father leaned in to talk, that he found out the reason for it.

If he said that he should stay away from you, he'd believe it. But the way he spoke, and—Lord help him—implied that you're interested in him almost sounded like a ruse. He stared at your old man as if he's gone mad, but when he turned his head towards you, his heart was burning. How easy was it, to be consumed by greed upon hearing a just few words.

He wanted it to be true, he desperately wished it to be true. But once again, he left with his feelings kept.

He wanted to rip his hair off, as he screamed into the pillow. You liked him, didn't you? Wouldn't it be easier for him to ask you? To have you by his side?

In that moment, he swore to himself that he'd do it the next time you both met. Because he wouldn't forgive himself if someone else took you before him. So he swallowed his pride, and asked for advice.

He expected his teammate to laugh at him, but to his surprise, they were very eager to give him one. Though most of them strayed from the topic.

When he first flirted with you, his hands were cold, and if they were talking face to face, she'd be able to see how much of a mess he was. Even when you noticed the tremble in his voice, you didn't say anything. He only did it for a week, before he settled with calling you Schnecke.

It wasn't until he was listed for a long mission, that you called him for a question.

"Hey." He could hear the uncertainty in your voice when you muttered, "Does the offer still stand?"

He almost asked her for it, before the realization struck him.

It was about his house.

His body turned stiff, as he felt the warmth in his loins. He was silent, and you began to think that it was a bad idea.

"Forget it, you don't have to ans—"

"Yes." He breathed out, "Yes, it still stands."

From that day on, you began to live in his house. He had to send the key via mail, which arrived three days later, according to the letter you wrote for him.

It felt… strange, pleasantly strange, knowing that you lived under his roof, filling his house with your things. He'd feel his skin heated up, as he pictured you on his bed, sleeping. At night, he dreamt of you in the house. Just you and him, doing a mundane routine, and even in the middle of the battlefield, he still couldn't get the image out of his mind. But why should he? It was everything that he ever dreamt of.

When the long mission came to an end, he visited his commander's office to request a month off. His boss was perplexed, but it was soon granted, in exchange for his contribution in a Tier 2 mission.

It was past midnight, when he arrived at home. You must've been startled when he knocked on the door, since you opened it with the latch still intact.

You helped him with his things as he stepped inside, admiring how warm his house became. There were traces of you in the living room—an empty mug, a soft blanket, and several files that you worked on before you slept. You sheepishly told him sorry as you tidied them up, but he stopped you, telling you it's okay.

"It's already late, let's just sleep."

"Go on then, I'll sleep on the sofa."

"What are you saying?" He retorted, "Take the bed. I'm not letting you sleep here."

"I can't. This is your house."

"I don't care."

"I care." You frowned.

"Schnecke." He said with a sigh, "It's either me on the sofa, or we share the bed."

He didn't mean to say it, but the words slipped out of his mouth so easily, before he fully realized it. Your mouth hung open, and all of your protests died down in your throat. He'd be horrified of it, if it's not for a burst of confidence, and a portion of sleep-deprived that made him a bit braver.

"The bed is big enough for both of us." He added.

You were hesitant at first, but you agreed on it later on.

That night, he woke up to find the side of the bed empty. Panic rose from his chest, before he sucked up a breath to calm down. He stepped out of the bedroom, and into the living room.

He found you curling on the sofa, with the warm blanket around you. He let out a sigh of relief, before silently cursed at your little escape. He scooped you into his arms, as he carried you to the bedroom.

He could see your reluctance to share the bed with him, and he understood it. He's a man, and it'd be strange for you to sleep with him on the same bed. But still, it affected him in the way he's afraid of.

You apologized to him the next morning, when he climbed up to the bar stool to watch you cook.

"I didn't know you moved me to the bed. I'm sorry, it should've been uncomfortable for you."

"It's fine." He said as he stretched, which made his joints pop, "I've had worse."

"Still, it doesn't mean you can sleep on the sofa forever."

"I don't want you to sleep on the sofa either."

"Ugh." You groaned as you placed the breakfast in front of him, "If only we could afford another bed."

"We?"

You stopped on track, as he tilted his head.

"Th—" You faltered, "That's because it's our problem now. You don't want me to sleep on the sofa, and I don't want you to sleep there too. We're running in circles."

He let her have a moment, before he said, "We've figured out the solution, haven't we?"

You almost dropped your plate after hearing him speak, he observed you as your face turned red. "You must understand, I can't sleep with you on the same bed. That'd be… improper. And no, I won't let you sleep on the sofa either."

He watched you as you paced back and forth on the kitchen floor.

"Fine, we can sleep on the same bed. But we won't share the same blanket, alright?"

With that, the new rule had been set. You'd sleep on the left side, while he took the side near the wall. He used the fleece blanket, and you cocooned inside the thick bedcover. Outside the bedroom, he's the one who (begrudgingly) cleaned the house, while you took care of the food. They went to the grocery store twice a week, and they'd split the bills into two.

He quickly fell into the routine as he found the comfort of it. He enjoyed the domesticity of it, something that he never knew would fit him. Whenever they went out, he'd keep himself neutral while secretly reveled in the attention that people gave to them. He'd hold your bag, and open the door for you. He might’ve not realized it, but those gestures pushed their relationship into a strange territory—where you harbored a conflicted feeling, while he stayed blind to your frown.

Alas, everything had to come to an end. When it was time to go, he stood at the door as he teased you by asking where's his kiss. Your face turned red, and he chuckled when you stammered. He didn't expect anything out of it, but when you leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, he found himself at loss at words.

Back at the base, everyone stared at him for wearing his sniper hood. But he'd rather people asking him about the mask, than the cause behind his flushed face.

As he promised, he was transferred to a new team for a difficult mission. It was a secret ops, consisting of retrieving an important document from a small terrorist group, and finding the leader's whereabouts. They've reviewed the plans several times, before they put their gears on.

When they breached the base, he was the one in the front line, with a technician beside him. They knew there'd be traps and bombs, and it should've been the technician's job to detect and disarm them. But when he barged into the main office, they missed a little bomb at the corner of the room.

He was the first to shout, and the one who took the damage. When the explosive was triggered, it went off with a deafening boom, sending shrapnels into the air.

They fulfilled the objectives, but they didn't minimize the casualties. While there's zero count in death, he and three other members suffered quite injuries.

When the doctor came, he knew he would deliver bad news. He cleared his throat, before telling him about the wounds on his face. It's quite possible that he'd suffer permanent scarring, from all the shrapnels that was dug into his skin.

He didn't know what to feel about it, except for the fact that you'd see him differently.

When he came home a half year later, his gut churned when you stared at him with wide eyes. He almost turned back, if not for your hand that reached out to him, while you softly spoke.

"What happened?" You mused, "Does it still hurt?"

He was quiet when you touched him, subtly shaking his head to reassure you.

"Oh…" You frowned as you traced the jagged scars on his cheek, "It must've been hurt."

It didn't hurt as much as he thought it'd be, but the way you looked at him that moment made him silent. He wondered if he denied it, he would end up with less amount of care.

You bought him an ointment the next day, and you told him to sit down as you put it on his skin. He told you it was unnecessary since he's healed, but you said it was for the scars.

He was moved, but troubled at the same time. The thing that you'd do and the length that you went through for him, it was… endearing, to say the least. But when you touched his face, you'd wince at the roughness of the new skin.

One night, when you spread the cream on his cheek, he asked,

"Do I look so hideous with the scars, that you want them gone?"

You stopped at your track, before you stared at him. "I don't think I understand what you're saying."

"You brought me ointment just to make them gone."

"You thought I was disgusted by them?"

He didn't answer.

"Look," You shook your head as you sighed, "I'm sorry if I offended you in any way, but whatever you thought about me is wrong. I—" You bit your lip, almost wanting to stop yourself from talking, "I just, I want to do something… for you. That's the least thing I could do."

He watched you look away, with a red flush creeped up across your face.

"Why?" He asked.

"Why?" You snorted, "Well, I don't know. I'm not gonna answer that."

"Do you like me, (name)?"

This time around, you were the one who stared at him.

"What are you saying—"

"Do you like me?" He repeated.

He left you speechless, tongue-tied for the question.

"(Name)."

You didn't flinch when he touched your cheek. For whatever reason, your head turned to him instead. While your eyes searched into his.

At that moment, he forgot about his doubts and went forward to kiss you. Something that he wished he'd done years before, in your bedroom, where he said his first goodbye.

You moaned against his lips, and he growled as he pulled your body into his arms. You didn't resist him, as his hand slid under your garment.

The next morning, he woke up to you on top of him, sleeping soundly, as you quietly snored against his chest. He'd thought he's still asleep, if not for the warmth of your skin against his. When he stood up, his head throbbed, as if he had a bottle of wine last night. While he wasn't drunk, he surely felt like he did.

For a moment, he couldn't remember anything, before the memories hit him all at once. The taste of your sweat, your sweet moan, and a shudder of bliss when he first came. It all came down to him like cold water.

He wasn't an innocent man, he wanted you from the start, but he knew that, once he had walked down the path, he'd have no way to return. The rage that he felt when you weren't his, and the impulse he had when you looked at him through your lashes, they were untamed. It was out of his control, and he's afraid that he'd hurt you with his obsessiveness.

But he couldn't help it. That's just his nature.

When you woke up, you found him on the side of the bed, staring at you. And you smiled at him, so sweetly, that he wished to lock it away from anyone's eye.

And when you kissed him that morning, he felt the exhilaration and the dread of free fall. Where he'd feel the sense of freedom before the gravity pulled him toward a grave. A grave that's reserved only for him.

At that moment, he knew he had to die before you. Because he wouldn't know what to do with himself when you left first.

König doesn't believe in an old wives' tale, but he'll take away your shoes if that means he'll keep you forever.

#cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #konig x reader #konig cod #man. i wrote about him again #I don't even like him that much. but he has so much potential ughhhhh #anyway. it's not beta read so read at your own risk lmao #and yea. konig has a mommy issue #and daddy issues #and everything issues

[collegeboysam]

jensen thinking supernatural is his life legacy when it's actually people wanting to read about him and jared fucking nasty so bad after seeing the chemistry they had from playing brothers that it created one of the most popular tropes for fanfiction, consumed and replicated to the point abo is now making it to mainstream media

#spn prequel??? canceled #alpha beta omega stories?? triving #incredible you cannot make this up real art never dies #imagine having so much chemistry with your literal on screen sibling people want to read about the two of you KNOTTING. thats real legacy

[l0cal-catb0y]

Hero!Ghoap x God!Reader brainrot

Had some insane brainrot while listening to music, this is going to be word vomit but like, i have to share it w/ yall and i didnt read this back so it may be a lil wonky (first cod post too wow) idk man its bad but whatever

Reader being a lesser known god who only has a few shrines and a tiny group of worshippers and hero!ghoap being incredibly well known and strong fighters who stumble across one of your shrine while looking for a place to rest. maybe it's abandoned or something but while theyre resting they investigate you and your history and end up leaving you some offerings for letting them have safety while healing up. Maybe you get a little excited cuz the heros all the gods are talking about are leaving you gifts!! just for being kind!! hehe you send them a sign that you are watching over you and helping them as much as you can even after they leave your shrine to continue their journey <33 you only have a few followers so you can actively pay attention to ghost and soap unlike the other gods who are so so busy. Ghost notices first that youre always watching over them when he starts seeing your associated animals and plants everywhere they go (can be whatever you want but im picturing a type of bird) and ghost feels unsure if its actually you but after it becomes a pattern he points it out to Soap who had a feeling they were being tailed as well. Now they start gathering little trinkets after their battles and leaving them in places that remind them of you like flower fields or by rivers. I feel like soap would become such a devoted follower so quickly while ghost is still a little wary, he doesnt know your intentions and there is barely any information about you out in the world. I think a few weeks or months later ghost would join soap in being one of your most devoted followers. I feel like they would create you an altar near where you live or move closer to the original shrine they discovered you at <33

also thinking about how they would react if you disappeared, specifically a war broke out between the gods and you get gravely injured and in a panic descend to earth by the boys' shrine before passing the fuck out. just the boys showing up to leave offerings but seeing you bleeding out on the altar, they both rush to you can try to stabilize you the best they can from experiences when patching each other up,,, once they clean you up they bring you back to their home and placing you in their bed, they sit next to you discussing what the fuck happened and who they have to hurt to get you justice.

maybe ill write more later but yeah hope yall liked my mess of an idea

#im rambling #im so normal #i love them so much #my sillies #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #ghoap x reader #cod mw2 #cod x reader #brainrot is so real #unedited #not beta read #would tag as ghoap but i didnt really talk about their relationship here #catboy talks #almost forgot #ghost x reader x soap

[eddie4bat-president]

I'm not a writer but i had this thought so- bear with me, yeah?

For months Eddie hears all about how cool and badass Steve Harrington is, yeah, but you know what he also hears about? How Steve and Robin are made for each other and how cool and pretty Robin is and how stupid it is that they're not a couple for some dumb reason, like Steve not wanting to be with a band geek and still clinging to high school hierarchy. And in all of the things Dustin says about Steeeve Harrington, that last part is the only thing that fits into the Munson Doctrine, so obviously everything else Henderson is saying is what's skewed in his little shrimp world view.

Steve Harrington thinks he's better than a band geek and that's why we won't look twice at a girl that would be perfect for him (according to Dustin Henderson, so... still questionably trustworthy information). Eddie probably assumes Dustin is talking up how close Steve and Robin actually are, just how he's exaggerating how close Dustin himself is to Harrington (like that would impress Eddie and the rest of Hellfire??? He really doesn't know how to get through to the little sheep that his worship of Hawkins' most notorious square is a detriment to his character and not something Eddie would find impressive. If it was real. Which it obviously isn't. Anyway-)

Turns out? Steve Harrington? Actually a cool dude. Not cool as in popular but cool as in "holy shit did he just bite that thing's head off???? Oh and he's not even gonna brag about that, it's just nbd, yeah sure, cool cool cool be fucking cool Eddie, oh god he's talking to me why is he talking to me" and just, chill to hang out with. After the whole shit show went down. Who would have fucking thought, huh? (except for Dustin Henderson, yeah yeah yeah, shut up)

So now Eddie has to reevaluate some other assumptions he made. Maybe Dustin was right and Steve actually is cool and badass, and he and Buckley actually are as close as he had said (and they really fucking are! He has seen them give Keith eerily matching bitchy looks for trying to schedule them on opposing shifts and basically bully the guy into changing the schedule around so they can spend as much time as possible in each other's presence. It's enough to make a guy question his own friendships when sometimes a few hours of band practice are enough to make him want to never see any of those chucklefucks again. Of course, that feeling abates but seriously, how are those two never sick of each other??)

So if they're as close as advertised but not a couple (and after meeting everyone Steve cares about and they're basically all nerds so the "Harrington thinks he's too good for a band geek" thing can't actually hold true-) what is the hold-up? Why aren't they a couple? And somehow, somehow Eddie comes to the conclusion that Steve is in love with Robin. Steve is a serial romantic (emphasis on romantic) and while his love life isn't the talk of the town post-earthquakes as it would have been before, people do still talk about the fact that he hasn't taken out a girl since it happened.

Which brings us to a day in summer, maybe fall, after Eddie has seen Steve look wistfully at a young couple with a baby, that he shows up at Robin's door step.

"Eddie? Hey what's up?"

"Good, good, how are you? Uhh can I... can I come in?" There's a nervous energy around him that is immediately infectious and she leads him to the living room where he immediately starts walking back and forth in front of the couch. She watches him for a moment, hands fluttering through different motions trying to find one that might calm him down before giving up on that. Instead Robin swerves around him, clambering onto the couch and wrapping her arms around her right leg, putting her head on her knee. She follows Eddie's path with her eyes and decides to wait before quickly realizing that she can't, actually.

"As riveting as it is watching you walk a groove into my parents' rug, do you maybe want to say something? I mean I can definitely talk enough for the both if us if that's what you want it's just that I have the slight suspicion you've got something you need to get off your chest" Eddie stopped walking halfway through her monologue and starts nodding.

"Yeah. Yeah yeah yes you're right it's just- I haven't a hundred percent made up my mind about saying something", Eddie has one arm wrapped around himself and uses the other to alternately play with his hair and gesticulate at her, "because on the one hand it's a little bit driving me crazy, maybe, but on the other hand this is none of my fucking business" And Robin who was worried at first just because Eddie is nervous, then for a second because she was scared he was going to confess to a very ill-advised crush on her, is stumped. What the fuck is this about and why did it bring him to her of all people?

"Just say it you weirdo", is what decides to comes out of her mouth but it doesn't even matter because half of her sentence is layered with his "Are you aware Steve is in love with you?"

[here we're facing the issue of me not actually being a writer and pretty much running out of steam but we also haven't reached the part that sparked this whole thing yet, which is wild - let's just pretend I wrote a very funny dialogue between those two in which Eddie confronts Robin for stringing poor Steve along ]

There's a moment when they're both silent and there's a moment when they're both talking and then there are steps coming down the stairs. They make a smirk grow on Robin's face that is starting to worry Eddie when not a parental figure but Steve Harrington steps through the doorway. He's wearing sweatpants and a shirt that might be Robin's and there's a headband pushing his hair away from his face.

"Don't yell at me for coming downstairs, you took forever and the first layer... is... dry....", he stops in his tracks the moment he looks up from his bare toes and sees Eddie. Then he very quickly rips off the headband and slings it somewhere to his right into the unknown of the hallway.

"Hi Eddie. What's... up" Eddie is going to sink into the floor and never come up for air again.

In the meantime Robin stood up on the couch to sit cross-legged on the back of it for a better vantage point and is steepling her fingers in front of her face. Eddie is getting the distinct impression he's missing some crucial information here.

"Stevie, babe, platonic love of my life-", Steve nods for her to go on, "you know how we decided I get a veto on your romantic life because we realized droves of suboptimal dates actually make you miserable so we're going for quality over quanity for the first time in your small-town Casanova life?" Steve has that cute little crease between his eyebrows while he's looking back and forth between Eddie and Robin, trying to figure out what's going on but he rolls his eyes at the end of her sentence, back in familiar territory. "Yes, Robin-"

She interrupts: "And you know how I also reserved the right to give a shovel slash molotov cocktail talk to anyone we deemed worthy of being a potential future partner?" Steve's face somehow shows an emotion that can only be encapsulated by "?!" as he glances to Eddie before shifting back to Robin with just the "?" remaining.

"First I have to say I'm personally very pro, I loved this experience; Eddie here really made a fool of himself, very worried for your delicate sensibilities and how I'm breaking your sweet little heart." "...what...?"

"So: what's the verdict on a potential future partner giving me the shovel talk?"

#Robin had painted 7 of Steve toes when Eddie rang the doorbell btw #they're a dark blue because Steve didn't want to jump into the deep end with too feminine a color #but black felt too edgy #but while they were drying and on the way down he kept looking at them and thinking #''i don't think this is my color... maybe a light blue? no too baby boy. yellow? nah that's ugly. orange? wait maybe with a stripe? #can nails be striped...?'' so when he arrived downstairs he was starting to worry he had never looked at a girl's nails because he didn't #know and whether that was sexist somehow #he had to shift gears very quickly when he arrived downstairs is what i'm saying #anyway i cannot stress enough how much i am not a writer #but the thing with the reverse shovel talk came to me and it wanted out #platonic stobin #steddie fic #steddie #hey i'm talkin' here #robin buckley #steve harrington #eddie munson #not beta read #top posts

[soulidarity]

myths and beliefs

rafayel x MC / 455 words

rafayel and Mc have a discussion on the credibility of myths

MC doesn't know that rafayel is a lemurian. inspired on his card "myths", slight spoiler of his myth if you squint

"do you really need me to be here? I don't think you need protection while you're painting at home"

"it's not just protection your presence helps me with this painting specifically"

MC raised an eyebrow at him but decided not to go too deep into it, opting to plop herself down on the couch across from him and scrolling on her phone. it wasn't the first time rafayel had called her over just to be there, sometimes it was for a couple of minutes, othertimes t was a few hours. he was unpredictable and at this point, should not be questioned.

the sun had started to set when the artist spoke to her again

"do you believe in myths?" "that's a sudden question um, sure. i mean not all of them"

"like?"

"greek mythology sometimes doesn't make sense to me. but i do get that they're supposed to be like warnings to children or just nice stories so i usually don't pay much mind to it."

"if something doesn't make sense to you, you do not believe it true?"

"you're sounding suddenly poetic"

he put his brush down and laid down on the couch with her, his head on her lap. "what about lemurians?"

"lemurians?"

"do you believe in them?"

"even if i did, wouldn't they be extinct? that's what grandma used to say"

"your grandma talked about them?"

she smiled, her hand brushing some purple strands from his face

"she used to tell me a bedtime story, about a lemurian and a human princess. the adventures he'd take her on and the world he would show her. i think it had a tragic ending but i always fell asleep before i heard it. the details of the story are foggy, its been a while."

"if i ever told you something that seemed impossible, would you believe me?"

"you usually mess with me a lot so-"

"MC, i'm serious."

she frowned. "yel, what are you not telling me?"

"do you trust me?"

"with my life but you've got to understand why im kind of aprehensive, youre being rather cryptic"

"you won't remember, you'll break the promise" he mumbled

"what'd you say?"

rafayel smiles, his serious demeanor quickly fading

"i said its nothing, just some artistic trail of thought"

"you sure?"

"yeah" he grabbed her face, pulling it down for a quick kiss "all this talking has made me hungry, feed me an apple?"

"you're so childish, you have to get up for me to go do that"

"hmmm... im sure you can figure out a way to do it with me on top of you"

"i think i have! i'll just throw you off"

rafayel quickly stood up "threatened by my own bodyguard? wow! scandalous"

#i never beta read my posts can you tell #i also dont really revise them that much #this is my word vomit ig #if youd like to be a beta reader lmk ig?? #rafayel x reader #otome #rafayel #love and deepspace #love & deepspace

[bitchysouljellyfish]

“El día que me quieras”

Rodolfo Parra/Reader

Inspired by this and the incredible writings of @yeyinde because God their writings are to die for! Title is inspired by the song of the same name by Carlos Gardel! The indented writing is done by yeyinde!

Enjoy!

The ocean is a distant roar beyond the sprawling green cut into the fells. The scent of heliotrope and sun-ripened tomatoes is heavy in the balmy air that pulses around you like a heartbeat.

Your finger taps the porcelain mug on the patio table, eyes soaking in the crystalline shore in the distance, basking in the sun. The warmth. The door slides open. Music from inside drifts out. Los Cojolites. He has a fondness for son jarocho. You can smell the sweet mole he's cooking waft through.

He comes up behind you, hands on your shoulders, thumbs rubbing circles on your bare skin. You lean back, head pressed to his tummy as you squint up at him. He's bathed in ochre from the sun: a halo around him that bleeds into your retinas until all you see his the shape of him. Your pulse quickens.

He smiles down at you, lunar white. Love in shades of vermillion leak from the curve of his mouth.

"Want some company, cariño?"

As if you'd ever say no.

Alejandro introduced you to him.

You were the medic, part of the Task Force 141 that had came to Las Almas to assist with El Sin Nombre. You were dwarfed by the other two men who accompanied you, El Fantasma and Soap who had you tucked into the middle of them, protecting you from harm as you protected them from the Reaper.

"This is Seargeant Major Rudolfo Parra, my right hand man. Ghost, Soap, and Bog." He points to you last, and you give him a smile and a nod and he feels the sun on his face like never before. You were radiant, the stress and trauma gracing your eyes but it didn't stop the rays of hope that shined through them. He almost didn't notice the strange call sign.

"Tengo miedo de los fantasmas." He attempted to joke but got nothing but a flat stare in return. "And...Bog?"

You sighed in exasperation, Soap chuckling and slapping his knee in glee. "Feel free to call me Doc instead, Sergeant Major. Soap is terrible with call signs." And that is where it ended, the conversation going serious as he drove through the streets of his home with the gradual realization that eyes were on him, but they were not vicious.

The name Bog stuck much more easily than Doc, to your dismay he could tell, but he had to admit. It fit you. You bounced back from injuries and stressful situations like the soft ground you were named after, yet you could spew acid at those deserving.

"You be safe huh, Darlin'? Can't be too careful with our good ol'doc." Graves's southern drawl cuts through the comms.

You sighed, irritation and anger apparent in your voice. "It's Doctor or Captain, Commander Graves. I give you respect you give me respect."

"What about Bog?"

"Friends can call me Bog."

"We aint-"

"No."

Soap snickered through the ear piece, Ghost telling them to stay focused before the comms went silent again. You were waiting at headquarters with Rudy and the other members of his unit on standby in case there was any medical emergencies while the others went through the cartel compound.

"Doctor?" He asked, because you certainly didn't look old enough to have one.

You turned with wide eyes, doe like he recalled, before smiling and showing your ID card. "Got it while I was enlisted, then I went to Officer Candidate School and the rest is history."

"Your family must be proud, as should your team to have such capable hands with them." He turned his chair so he was resting his arms on the back, one eye and ear out on the cameras.

"Gaz thinks differently, says I'm a torturer with a needle but that's just because he's afraid of them." Then you put a finger to your lips and pursed them, winking at him so slyly that it made his heart leap into his throat. "But I'm not supposed to tell anyone that."

He laughed, resting his head on his hand and tried to keep the admiration out of his eyes. "You have my word, bonita, I won't tell a soul."

You and him spoke like that for ages, only breaking when the on ground team needed something. Your chairs were significantly closer together than when you had started.

He had become so smitten with you in the small time he had known you that when they were relieved of duty he didn't want to end the conversation. He walked you back to a room just for you, female soldiers weren't common in Mexican Special Forces, talking low and walking slow as to prolong his time with you. You had told him about your home in America, somewhere cold that got snow every once in a while and he had watched as you spoke animated about what you would do with your family.

"What about you Rudy? Any experience with snow?"

"Enough to know I am not built for it," he laughed, "No, my home is by the coast, with plenty of warmth for the rest of my days."

"Oh a beach man huh? Am I gonna get the chance to see you in a speedo?" You smirked at him, stopping at your door and peering up at him through your lashes.

"I am Mexican, Bonita, not European, but..." all of the confidence he had managed to keep throughout the night melted away suddenly. Shaking hands reached for your fingers, just enough for them to curl around your knuckles and you held them twice as tightly. "I could take you, some day, when this has calmed down. You would like it. I will make you so much food and drinks you would not know what to do with it all."

You stepped forward and kissed his cheek, feather light and petal soft but it was enough to knock him off his feet. "Its a date. Good night Rudy."

"Buenos noches, bonita."

He had watched you, passing glances through the time you spent with Los Vaqueros and became entranced. You were intelligent, witty, funny, beautiful, and strong, you had to be to carry wounded from the field but it did nothing to rough up the hands you had touched him so delicately with.

Yet those hands, oh those hands, were sculpted by angels he was sure.

You had patched him up after Hassan Zyani left him for dead and Alejandro, his brother in all but blood, saved him from the building, blood running down his head and barely able to walk he was so dazed. He remembered you laying him down, cold water on his face and you soft eyes and gentle hands on his skin and he thought it was heaven. You barked orders to get medical supplies, but made your voice soft and warm when you spoke to him. He noticed then that you always did that, when it was just the two of you or when the attention was away, you spoke to him as if he something soft and gentle to and by God he was.

He was clay in your hands, clay to be molded and shaped to fit into your shape so that your radiance could heat him and bring him back to life so that he may support you and hold you and keep you safe.

"I think a new call sign is in order, hermosa." He whispered, numb to the pain in his head as he raised a hand to hold your face.

"Shh, Rudy, hold still. I'm almost done." You caught his hand, squeezing it tightly as you wrapped the bandages around his head.

"I think Angel is much more fitting. Eres un ángel, esos suaves toques solo podrían pertenecer a una." You smiled and finished the bandages, looking down at him with fondness as you held his hand to your chest.

"I think you have a concussion."

"Perhaps," he shrugged and used his other hand to grasp your cheek. "Or perhaps I have died and the angels had no other choice but to use your face, although I hope that is not the case. I still have to take you to the coast." He struggled to keep his eyes open as the pain medication you gave him started to take effect.

Rodolfo felt something then, firmer but still soft as roses on his lips. "You better." He heard you say, another gentle touch on his forehead that he couldn't recognize before slipping unconscious.

The next time he would kiss you would be just before you left, Valeria in custody and the plane that would cart you away from him waiting behind you. You take his hand and press an envelope into it. "I'm a romantic." You explained, "Write to me?"

He cradled your face and pulled you close, kissing your lips with as much gusto and adoration he could fit into it before he could lose his nerve. The feeling of your arms wrapped around his neck would soon become a favorite of his.

"I will." One more kiss to your lips and you were away.

It would be another six months before he could hold you in his arms again, swinging you around once you came off the airport terminal and committing the sound of your laugh to memory. He wasted no time in taking you to his villa, one hand on your thigh as he drove and you resting against his arm.

And soon the ocean is a distant roar, muffled by the sounds of his Los Cojolites and the sizzling of breakfast he was cooking. The scent of heliotrope and sun-rippened tomatoes is heavy in the balmy air that pulses in time with his heart. His shirt open and revealing the marks you had given him the night before and that morning and he sees you, sitting on the veranda with a cup of coffee and tour own marks on display. Rodolfo smiles and walks out, settling behind you with a hand on your shoulder and another under your chin as he looks at you with nothing but love.

"Want some company, cariño?"

And he knows you could never say no.

#cod x you #rodolfo mw2 #rodolfo x reader #this is long as hell #not beta read #im obsessed with this man #fluff #so much fluff #love #waxing poetic #rodolfo parra x reader

[wikiangela]

fuck it friday

it's already friday here, just after midnight, so starting today off with a new wip 😁

I'll be back with alive shannon next time, but today smth new bc I started a new smut 👀 like, this was such a random idea, and I was half asleep when I wrote this and I have no idea if I'll even finish it but here's a lil bit of it haha (I don't feel as confident about this one as I did the previous two smuts, so I'm shamelessly asking for validation bc this fic will require a lot of it lmao why do i do this to myself)

so here's a new wip that I think for now I'll call buddie phone sex smut? lol

___

Eddie’s staring at the words, for a minute pretending they’re directed at him, and at the picture, seeing his best friend like he never has before, and before he knows it, his hand is moving under the covers, over the growing bulge in his underwear, palming himself. Shit, he’s not about to jerk off to Buck. Especially since the messages clearly weren’t meant for him. That feels wrong, no matter how horny he might be. The next text from Buck doesn’t help, making Eddie's vision go red with jealousy. All it says is a panicked ‘OH MY GOD IM SO SORRY IT WASNT 4 U!!!! IGNORE IT SORRY!!!’

And, look, Eddie could say that it’s all good, delete the message, and pretend it never happened. Except, the more he looks, the more turned on he gets, and his hand starts stroking his dick through the fabric, and- and his mind is clouded by arousal and jealousy, and such strong feeling of possessive want, he’s not thinking when he throws the covers away, takes a picture of his bulge, cock hard and leaking, a wet spot visible on his underwear, and sends it to Buck in response, with a text that says ‘no worries, I liked it. fuck, I want that gorgeous cock all to myself’.

‘HOLY SHIT’ is what he gets back, and not even two seconds later, Buck’s calling him.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @andrewblur @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @jesuisici33 @diazblunt @911onabc @eddiediaztho @housewifebuck @thewolvesof1998 @fortheloveofbuddie @lover-of-mine @gayhoediaz @callaplums @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @cowboy-buddie @monsterrae1 @hippolotamus @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @giddyupbuck @forthewolves @honestlydarkprincess @wildlife4life @spotsandsocks @disasterbuckdiaz @theotherbuckley @eowon @daffi-990

#fuck it friday #buddie phone sex smut #buddie wip #buddie fic #buddie #wikiangela writes #my writing #fic snippet #my wips #basically buck's in the middle of sexting someone else and sends some stuff to eddie and eddie goes crazy with jealousy lol #this fic will require so much research for what i want from it and def beta reading once it's done lol #im so unsure about it i was debating whether to share it since sunday and just almost changed my mind lol #buddie smut #smut #new wip #yet another smut jfc I can't stop lmao

[north-noire]

Good news! I'm done with Hidden Hands's Chapter 3 draft, just editing the whole manuscript and then will wait for my beta readers to get back with me after they review my Chapter. I can finally draw some requests and some other AU related stuff after that, yay!

#i am fighting for my life editing these pages but IT'LL BE FINE #rip to my one beta reader that has to read through all of it #AUGH I can't wait to see you guys react to the chapter! #so much happens for this chapter and the next one! so stay tuned :] #noire's diary

[grimesgirll]

alexandria is the break you've been yearning for since shit hit the fan.

an independent walled and gated community is exactly the place to catch your breath. the past eighteen months had been a blur of grit and gore; you deserve to decompress in a pretty house, not that you spent all of your time in your new settlement inside. you made a point to take judith on daily walks.

you're returning from one of your new routine walks to get judith down for her afternoon nap when you find olivia - the neighbor lady who ran the armory and the pantry - on the porch, greeting your name.

“hi,” you reply with a smile, bolstering the cooing baby on your hip. “what do i owe you the pleasure, olivia?”

“i’ve been meaning to get over here ever since shane brought it up to me-,” you pause. “-i wouldn’t mind having another set of hands around the armory at all, especially with the background shane mentioned you had.”

you purse your lips. “thanks. could we talk about this another time? maybe after the weekend? i’ll stop by.” you gesture to the little girl on your hip. “it’s just that i want to get her down now so her routine isn’t all out of whack later tonight.”

olivia nods, glasses bouncing a bit. “of course. come see me whenever you’re ready.”

you’re smiling and thanking her again before crossing the threshold with a huffy chest. it takes patience on your part not to slam the door but with judith in your arms, you slowly close it.

why would shane sign you up to work in the armory? is he stupid? you ponder. he didn’t even ask if you wanted to do something like that. you dismiss the thought the best you can and just focus on getting judith to sleep.

thank god for the blackout curtains jessie had sent over. judith sleeps like the dead with those things drawn.

a little rocking and the dark room do well to help the infant fall asleep in no time. that allows you to meander down the living room and hear the door swinging open.

"babe, we're back.”

you perk your head up when you see shane and rick come through the door. “hey, guys,” you forget to ask them how their day’s been when you see their new uniforms.

you have to pick up your jaw when you see the two men dressed in matching constable’s uniforms. you and shane hadn’t been dating for long when the world went to shit. he’d met you right after work before, even picked you up in the cruiser before but you forgot how strapping he looked in a uniform. brown and form fitting, you’re thanking the constable’s office inventory for stocking such flattering apparel.

you almost forget the frustration you’re harboring - the anger that had boiled, all because of how his ass looked in those brown fucking slacks.

“good to see you,” rick says with the same tone he had back on the side of the road when he helped you step back into your underwear.

“good to see you too,” you repeat, biting your lip.

a smirk appears on shane’s lips once he realizes you’re checking out their asses as you take their coats.

"why don't you head upstairs? we'll be up in a few minutes."

you nearly drop the jackets from your arms. “for what?” you ask, playing dumb.

rick is wordless and shane just smiles at you, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops. “you’ll see. we’ll see you soon enough.”

the bedroom is your next destination.

you’re tiptoeing up the stairs as not to disrupt nap time. those light treading feet are carrying you straight to the bed where you crumple into the comforter.

long was your day, longer would be your night. this is by virtue of the fact that you’ll have to ask shane about why olivia was about to onboard you to work in alexandria’s armory. and you’ll probably get split in half by an eight inch cock by the end of the night. you decide to put off your conversation with shane when your mind wanders to the newly clean shaven constable downstairs.

god, did he fit those pants wonderfully.

the man had been on your mind ever since this situationship of sorts emerged between the three of you - sans labels. awkward as it seemed, given all of your histories.

and then there’s shane.

don’t get you wrong, shane would give you the world if he could. whatever it would take to keep you nice and happy and purring “yes, shane” at his every word. he goes to greater lengths not just for your safety but for your convenience.

the man who’d circled back on a run after realizing he didn’t bring back your favorite brand of tampons. then again when the tampons be found had cardboard applicators. the one who held you at night in your shared cell back at the prison, kissed you and petted your hair, nuzzling as close as possible and telling you it would be alright. the man who trusted you to take care of his baby girl.

the one who had taken the time to give you not one but multiple masterclasses on firearms, shooting, and gun maintenance. he insisted that you know how to take care of yourself if it ever came down to and it boy, had it come down to it. more than once, you’d found yourself aiming your pistol and being forced to make a split second decision. the same man embraced you and reassured you in the aftermath of your beretta’s rounds claiming your first non-walker kill.

the man who’s about to fuck you into the mattress with his best friend.

you try to hold onto that thought as you shimmy out of the blue levi’s, deserting them on the floor thoughtlessly in search something cozier. digging through shane’s newly filled dresser drawers seems like an easy enough solution.

speak of the devil, he walks in with rick while you’re appraising a pair of gray sweatpants with a georgetown insignia on them.

“thought you had your own sweats.” shane’s behind you in an instant. just like rick, he’d noticed the way your sweatshirt falls to your thighs. “why don’t you just save those for later and let me help you take the rest off, huh?”

a telltale smirk takes over your face. a slant back into shane tells him all he needs to know.

he waits to toss you over his shoulder and situate you on the bed before he's yanking your boy briefs down your legs and brushing your clit with his fat finger. it's only natural that he's chuckling into your skin when you tense beneath him. prodding and playing with your newly awakened nerves, shane still managed to signal rick over to begin a maddening campaign, attacking your flush skin with their lips.

the lips on your that skin feel so deliciously inviting that you disregard how tender they turn you.

of course, shane is the one that can’t stand to wait.

“down you go, pretty girl.”

in an instant, he’s behind you with a finger in your pussy. you want to be upset that he's not still paying attention to the blushed out surface of your body but you’re too preoccupied with the hand in between your shoulder blades, encouraging your forearms down to the mattress. shane’s maintaining his grip on your hips and propping them up to send your ass straight towards the ceiling.

the moment that you feel a warm tongue, licking painfully slowly, and thoroughly towards your center, your hips jerk. shane is already bracing them, cooing, “easy, girl,” into your thigh before continuing the languid assault on your lips.

the lips on your face are pecked, if only briefly, by your boyfriend’s former crimefighting partner. licking your lips, you’re wishing he would circle back to connect your mouths again when a sharp sting interrupts your thoughts.

“fuck!” you cry into the comforter.

the obvious culprit is already testing the skin of your ass with his palm again. another yelp has blue eyes boring down, as if trying to memorize each moment you react - so expressively - to shane’s ministrations.

“what was that for?” you question, rotating your head to stealth a glance at him.

“fun.”

you’re about to tell shane about his idea of fun before a final slap and a sudden return to teasing your core spurs you away from the thought. pressure and heat course through you; shane just raises your internal temperature with a purposeful finger. you're whimpering at just the first stretch. past your throbbing rings of muscle, shane weaves a path with a single finger.

a heaved out moan has shane licking his lips. “gettin’ worked up off my fingers, baby?”

you nod. without a doubt.

another finger continues the mission of prying your tight cunt open for the men that would be taking turns with you until you’d come all over both their cocks. knuckle deep inside of you, the pressure is going to kill you before that third finger does.

“shane,” you’re hissing when he adopts a pace that has you clawing at his two fingers. “why are you being so aggressive with your fingers?”

“weren’t you complainin’ that it was ‘too much,’” he denotes with air quotes, “last time?”

rick seems to give you some breathing room at his friend’s taunt. he slinks back like his massive cock wasn’t the reason you’d been a sobbing mess in cowgirl on top of him the night before your group had reached noah’s old community in richmond.

you’d come so pornographically hard around him that you swear it’d been in your top five orgasms. but your cervix was still shot.

rick felt guilty. so guilty that he hasn’t fucked you since. only your mouth. of course he treated you to his mouth, his perfect tongue and his hands but you crave him inside of you. the thought of it with shane’s two pronged touch has you nearly grinding up the bed.

“fuck, shane,” you’re mumbling into the comforter, fists clenching when another finger worms into you.

“you ‘bout ready, baby?” shane asks, placing a strategic stripe down your clit as he fully buries his middle three fingers in you.

“mhmm.”

“wanna ask?”

a steady sentence isn’t going to come out of your mouth with how shane’s thrusting his fingers in and out of you. “please,” you sputter when he entrenches his fingers deeper inside of you.

“what was that?” the condescension in his voice has you squelching around his fast moving fingers.

you’re blushing at rick who has a hand on his cock and is staring straight into your teary eyes. “i want you to fuck me now, shane.” you don’t break eye contact with rick. “please.”

another smack lands on your reddening backside and suddenly those pleasure granting fingers are digging into your hip and you feel shane’s girth at your entrance.

“what do you want, baby?” shane asks. “you want me to fill you up?”

“yes, i want it so bad,” you’re begging through pouted lips.

rick doesn’t miss your doe eyes or how you moan shane’s name as he fulfills your fucked out request and fills you. even someone in the hallway can hear the wet sound from shane teasing your leaking cunt.

a few experimental strokes and shane is already balls deep. he didn’t heed the same new code of chivalry rick had adopted upon finding a hint of blood on the tip of his dick. that experience made you want to pull your hair out. stupid fucking cervix, you’d thought, ruining me getting fucked. rick didn’t usually treat you to such a pounding but the road did that to one. besides, he was freshly addicted to your cunt.

the electric feeling from how he’d taken you with shane that first time reignite as your boyfriend adjusts himself to brush against your g-spot. the fucked out look on your face can’t be missed as you let shane shovel his hips into you and closer to the only finish line you’d ever had no problem crossing. just like rick had plowed you into the mattress of the barracks you’d all stayed at in norfolk.

these thoughts of rick can’t escape you - even with shane groaning your name. the swats to your ass just go straight to your cunt and do little to rouse you from your daydreaming about the man lining himself up with your mouth.

yeah, you’re out of your mind already and he doesn’t even have his dick inside of you again.

“so good for me, baby,” shane’s gasping, his hand sliding down your ass to brace your thigh and fuck you deeper. “so good for us.”

rick nods, fingers pushing your hair out of your face and letting you take your time with him in your mouth. you hollow your cheeks and rock forward with shane when he cants into you. he’s gazing down at you as if this is the prettiest he’s ever seen you.

you could keep your eyes on him forever if it weren’t for the orgasm searing through you. it’d built up as you backed into shane and imagined how full rick would have you feeling - how connected, how close you’d feel with him inside of you.

“should’ve knocked you up back at the farm.”

god, that would’ve been inconvenient. you just focus on the pleasure you’re receiving and how you’re in alexandria with two men amazingly attractive men. it’s not the time but then again, shane doesn’t give you much of a choice with how revved up this whole coming in you business seems to be getting him. you can’t lie; it’s affecting you too.

so much that you’re nearly protesting when rick withdraws his twitching cock from between your lush lips, less than when shane pulls out of you. you won’t be protesting about what comes next though.

the first time rick had fucked your pussy you’d been whining, and you’re doing the same thing now.

“you wanna get on top?” shane questions, requiring you to repeat yourself before rick leans against the headboard.

still snickering at the whine that came out of you, your boyfriend helps to lift you and lower your hips onto rick who’s sprawled on his back, bronzed curls against the propped up pillow. rick hisses when his tip makes contact with your drowning heat again.

shane doesn’t waste any time. his hands are off you so he can situate himself on the bed to accommodate the best view of you two.

unfortunately, you’re not in shane’s lap so rick has him beat for the best seat in the house. or do you hold that seat?

your boyfriend hadn’t seemed too worried about you sliding too far down onto rick but rick was. his hands are firm on your hips - holding them in a semi-permanent place, only maneuvering for you as you rotate your hips down onto him.

“rick,” you rasp, wrapping your arms around his neck. you want to hear more from him so badly - to hear him panting your name. that’s your goal when you hurry your hips against him. you can tell that he’s hesitating, holding you back at first until you wiggle enough for him to allow you to break free.

grinding onto him, you watch a puffed out series of breaths escape his mouth. not missing a beat, you reposition your hips to sink deeper, hissing with rick and leaning into him. that’s when your clit begins to explode with pleasure from the friction.

“fuck,” you’re chanting. “fuck, that’s good. feels so good. fuck. fuck, that’s perfect.”

“dirty girl.” shane is teasing.

“just feels so fuckin’ good,” you’re twisting on top of rick, angling yourself against his pulsing member to stimulate all the perfect parts of your pelvis.

“is rick fucking you good, honey?”

you nod, having been given full license to be honest about how rick is making you gush.

“how good?” shane asks, hazel eyes on you while you ride rick.

your lip quivers. you feel rick thrum inside of you. “soooo good.” you’re saying in the lust addled way only you would. “you both make me feel so on.”

shane’s cock jumps and rick is picking up the pace. whatever motion your clit’s endured against rick is nothing once he crescents his fingertips into your sides. nice and deep, rick is threatening your cervix again but you don’t need to worry because he’s just taking the scenic route to your g-spot.

the same spot that’s making your toes curl and you chant for rick. “i’m close again,” you warn him. your head is falling onto his shoulder, blocking shane from view.

“you’ve got it, almost there, sweetheart,” rick rumbles into your ear.

his now gravelly voice against your ear has your cunt tightening. teeth pressed into your shoulder, you yelp and moan when rick brushes the flesh of your skin with his teeth. the purple marks being sown onto you will bloom later on but you don’t mind. not when your legs are shaking and you’re whimpering, “god, rick, you make me feel so fucking good.”

and suddenly you’re being fucked through your orgasm face down.

“so jessie cut your hair?”

rick nods and you’re hyper aware of how short his hair is. he’s so polished too. not that it’s terribly difficult to be after traveling on the road for so long.

“i liked your long hair. you should grow it out again.”

the new constable raises an eyebrow, leaning up on his forearms to sit up. “gotta’ shape up at some point.”

you would argue but shane’s distracting you with kisses to your shoulders and promises of morning sex already. you’re not distracted enough to miss rick’s weight absent from the pliable surface.

rick rises from the bed and you whine.

“i want rick to stay.”

shane scoffs. he extends his brawny arms across the bed. “baby, there’s barely enough room in the bed for the two of us.”

you shake your head, sitting up on your knees. “i think we can make it work. please,” you take a breath. “i just feel safer with you two in bed.”

“honey, there’s no room.”

“okay, i’ll just sleep on top of him then.”

you end up basically on top of rick - not that he minds. the night is spent with cuddled up into his chest; shane cupping the occasional hand around the curve of your ass.

weirdly, you’re falling asleep in no time. the steady thrum of his heartbeat lulls you. sleeping on top of rick might have to become a part of your bedtime routine.

shane wants you to pull a hostile takeover of the armory.

you stand with your arms crossed, giving the man one of your signature frowns. "why would i want to keep an eye on olivia in the armory?"

shane looks at you as if it's obvious. "it's good to have a hand on things," he explains, sighing your name. "it's good to have someone on the inside, in case..."

"-in case what?" you question.

shane stares at his feet.

you smolder. "you seriously can't be expecting to have to seize their guns, shane. we just got here for christ's sake."

"it's not even like that, baby," shane says, trying to walk back his conspiracy plots from you. “i just would feel better having you there. besides, it’s not like it’d be all the time and you could learn more about gun storage, whatever you want now

“that doesn’t sound like whatever i want, it sounds like you’re shoving me in the armory.”

“baby, you don’t have to do anything, i’m just sayin’-,”

“i’ll work in the armory if you stop giving me shit about going hunting.”

shane frowns af you. “now, you know that’s different.”

you cross your arms. “it’s not. i need a change of scenery, maybe some greenery to be specific.”

shane presses a flexed hand against the wainscoting he’s leaned up against. he shakes his head. “maybe once we know things are stable here, but for right now these people are far less capable than we are. i’d feel better with you in the armory.”

you want to ask him to consider what you want for a change. you honestly want to tell him to go fuck himself but then you remember.

ah, the thing that you want. the man that you want. the man you can only have with shane’s smirking approval.

so you just smile, walk over and take him by surprise, planting a kiss on cheek and telling him you’ll start tomorrow. it’ll all pay off in the long run.

the welcome party is a success.

if not for the fact that shane didn’t kill spencer just for saying hello to you, then for the fact that you got trashed.

so trashed that rick had ended up hauling your ass home when you hurled in one of deanna’s planters and shane was too embroiled in a push-up contest with abraham to even think about heading home. not that shane had ended up any better. the man drank so much johnny walker that even he came home and passed out face first in the bed bedside you.

you’re hungover the next morning, so hungover that rick moved you out of shane’s bed and into his to hang off the edge and puke your guts up.

rick even roped carol into coming over to cook and watch judith while you and shane recovered.

he even brings you soup.

“damn, look who’s still out of it.”

seems shane had recovered.

“she drinks like she’s still in kappa delta.”

rick rubs a circle or two into your back. “what’d you say? you won’t puke all over your bed, will ya’?”

when you’re well enough, you patter downstairs

“you’re looking better.”

“thanks, carol,” you return her jab with a wry smile.

“so,” the gray haired woman braces her hands on the picnic table at the base of the orchard. “are you going to help me with these apricots are what?” your gaze falls from the woman to her basket and circles back to the trees overhead. “the apricots came in early here. what do you think of apricots in march?”

you shrug. “i really don’t know much about fruits,” you admit as you take the chestnut colored basket into your hand.

it’s so odd seeing carol in her little pseudo-mr. rogers act, costume and all. the cardigan and capris paint a picture of the picture homemaker - a real martha stewart type.

and one of the most tactful, five steps ahead of you types that you’d ever met.

you wonder if this carol had laid dormant for some years.

the two of you work through the trees, plucking the precious fruit that was ready for harvest and leaving the rest.

“so, you having fun playing house?”

your mouth gapes open. you nearly drop your basket and waste quite a lot of apricots.

carol snorts at you. “i’m just kidding.” she sends you a look like you’re incredulous or something. “do what you want.” you pluck an apricot from the tree before you. gossamer head tilting when your apricot picking partner speaks again. “but just keep your priorities straight.”

you stiffen. that’s not what you were expecting. maybe some more sage or cunning advice is what you thought would be coming out of her mouth. priorities? you don’t wanna think about them. the priorities that you’ve been saddled with.

you moan someone about your hangover and muddle through the rest of your apricot picking, trying to keep your mind from defining your priorities.

the two of you part when at the sidewalk in front of your porch, with her last words to you being:

“you be careful.”

“gonna have to go out and find a king sized bed if rick’s gonna be stayin’ over this often.” shane comments and rolls onto his side to face you.

you shrug. “i’m fine with the arrangement the way it is.”

“yeah? sleeping on top of rick?”

you continue brushing your hair. “beds are hard to come by, especially great gigantic sized beds.”

“i’m sure there’s a king somewhere.”

“yeah.”

shane’s eyes don’t leave you as you set your hairbrush down on the vanity and tie it back. he’s even closer once you settle into your spot on the mattress. arms clutch you into him and lazy patterns begin to materialize on your skin, from massages into the nap of your neck to a dull squeeze of your ass. it makes you feel easy - subdued almost by shane’s unhurried touch. but you’re still wound up. you don’t know how you can be anything else nowadays.

"night, baby," shane mumbles into your ear.

"night." you reply, eyes focused on the single beam of moonlight tumbling through the window.

with rick down the hall, you won’t be sleeping tonight.

#the walking dead #rick grimes #shane walsh #rick grimes x reader #shane walsh x reader #rick grimes smut #shane walsh smut #twd #twd smut #twd imagine #rick grimes imagine #rick x reader #shane walsh imagine #shane x reader #not beta read #f/m/m #moodboard #twd moodboard #rick grimes moodboard #shane walsh moodboard #the pt 2 no one asked for #blowy #p in v sex #constable rick #shane warning!! #shane survives au #please excuse the multiple hair colors in the moodboard #sorry this is rushed! the next installment will be much more hq #grimesgirll boards #grimesgirll

[crowleyscleaninglady]

Y’all I feel like I’ve peaked.

My friend is an incredibly talented writer who I get to beta for. The work makes me so happy to read.

They inserted me as a side character who sasses Crowley and teases Aziraphale

That’s it. I’ve peaked. Life can’t get better

Anyway go check out Lifting Eden by @aziraphalalala

#She made me very sassy and it’s super accurate #it’s in the last chapter so you have to read all the way to there before you see it #but it’s worth it #I beta read and still read it when it gets published I love it so much #crowley #aziraphale #good omens #ineffable husbands #good omens 2 #good omens makes me emotional #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #azicrow #good omens fanfiction #good omens au #good omens ao3

[hijinks-n-lowjinks]

Everyone please go read my friend @kattythingz edling fic A Crown With Gems and Gold, it’s a literary masterpiece, her writing is like no other and she’s one of the funniest people I’ve ever known

#I didn’t care about edling that much but then I became a beta reader for her fic and I adore them #read it 🔪 NOW #fma #edling #jinx talks

[paimonial-rage]

telling them off - ayato, venti, & xiao

synopsis: in which the reader unanimously decides that enough is enough

characters: ayato, venti, xiao

notes: ranging from platonic to barely romantic

ayato

“With all due respect, my lord, please put that back.”

Though you kept your expression passive, you could feel irritation crawling up the back of your neck.

He laughed his ever-composed and noble laugh.

“You’re not even facing this way. I wonder what it is that has you so concerned…”

You placed back the tanuki keychain that previously captured your attention. While he was always a hassle to deal with, he enjoyed taking it to the extremes when visiting souvenir shops during business trips.

“I’m sure you know what I am talking about, my lord. You know just as well as I do how I feel about what I know you’re about to do.”

“Ah, do I? You may need to refresh my memory,” he mused without turning from his spot.

Years of experience kept you from gritting your teeth.

“With all due respect, sea urchin flavored natto will not be a suitable souvenir for Thoma. He will not like it.”

Ayato hummed under his breath. You didn’t even have to turn to know he was examining the box containing the culinary horror even more.

“Is that so? He didn’t say anything the last time I gave him something similar.”

Was this your punishment for offending an archon in your past life?

“That is because Thoma’s loyalty to you extends even higher than the gates of Celestia, my lord. He would never offend you by refusing a gift, even if that means encouraging your sick– ah, I mean concerning pleasure in his discomfort.”

And yet again, you did not have to turn to know he was picturing it in his mind with a twinkle in his eye and an amused smile on his lips.

“Ah yes, it is quite entertaining. I wonder if he is even aware of the faces he makes...”

Sometimes you were amazed at how you managed to keep a neutral expression hearing the rude things he says.

“With all due respect, this habit of yours is why all the marriage meetings the Kamisato elders set you up with have failed. You have a terrible– ah, I mean difficult– ah, I mean unique personality.”

He chuckled.

“I do love how you preface your cruel words the way you do, as if that will make what you say any less disrespectful.”

“I apologize, my lord. My current master does not train me well. I shall strive to improve so as not to put him to shame.”

When he didn’t reply, you went back to perusing the keychains. Perhaps a kappa would be better…

“Perhaps it will get those old men off my back if I marry someone who knows how I really am,” he mused.

You did your best not to snort. Your expression did not betray your thoughts.

“With all due respect– ah, I mean, I beg your pardon, my lord, but I’m sure everyone that has found out your true nature has run away by now.”

He was quiet for a few moments.

“Hmm, I can’t say everyone has.”

And then you felt it. The hairs on the back of your neck stood. Turning around, you saw his eyes were on you. He was smiling with that twinkle in his eye and held your gaze for as long as you held his. And then it sunk in.

Oh.

Your expression finally broke…

… into abject and utter disgust.

And when he clutched his stomach with one hand and covered his mouth with the other to hide his laughter, that expression only grew.

“With all due respect, my lord, I would appreciate it if you didn’t joke about such horrifying things.”

And after he composed himself and wiped the corners of his eyes, he nodded.

“My apologies, First. Let me purchase these items and then we may leave.”

You sighed.

“My lord, please put back the natto.”

venti

You didn’t know why you were accompanying Venti on a trip to Wolvendom. No matter how much you asked, he simply grinned or gave his signature “ehe!” While it was tolerable at first, after a day and a half of dealing with it, your nerves were getting run down real low. It was the hottest summer Mondstadt had in years, perhaps even decades. Despite his (what you considered to be) warm clothing, he was marching along as normal. You, on the other hand…

You wiped at the sweat that run down your brow as you trudged behind him. You were glad Wolvendom had no villages. The last thing you wanted was for anyone to see how utterly disgusting you looked. You didn’t even want to see the mirror when you finally got back home. You were positive the fabric under your arms were stained with sweat, your hair was a greasy mess, and your skin looked as if it was covered with a layer of grime.

At first, you were supposed to take this trek on your own. That’s what Venti intended, but you refused. You refused to feel guilty either. Within the past month after discovering his identity, you were sent on various tasks for him that took you from one end of the city to the other, and even to Liyue Harbor to drop off a bottle of dandelion wine with a funeral parlor consultant. Sure, you wanted to prove your devotion to Barbatos, but this was really getting too much!! So instead, he roped you into coming along with him for the journey.

You found yourself regretting agreeing when the day finally came. Though it was a day long journey with possible skirmishes with hilichurls to deal with, he brought nothing with him. So, you had to run home to prepare another bottle of water. You assumed food would be fine as you both could eat lunch in Springvale, but when you got there, he didn’t have any money on him either!

Still, on some level, you were glad to be around him. Being the Anemo Archon, Venti always had a nice breeze surrounding him, but you had to admit you wanted more. Sure, he may be the weakest among the archons, but surely he was strong enough to bring some solace to Mondstadt by directing the Dragonspine winds to the city. But unfortunately, he had other plans.

“Ahh, while I love the cool air of Wolvendom, I have to say that the smell is not something I’m very good with,” Venti mentioned wryly.

You frowned and sniffed the air. You couldn’t smell anything. You were too tired to smell anything, but you had to agree that it was getting cooler. However, seeing that you were walking a constant uphill, it only negated the effect.

“I don’t smell anything. Are you talking about the wolves?”

He laughed.

“Yes. Wet wolves and an old friend. That’s who we’re going to visit. Oh! But don’t stand too close to me when he comes out. He may not be happy to see me…”

You frowned when he laughed nervously at the end.

“Why wouldn’t he–”

“And we’re here!”

You gasped as a large arena finally came into view. Though Mondstadt was home to many adventurers, it wasn’t often they chose to come around here. The Wolf-King of the North was a temperamental god and didn’t always take kindly to outsiders. And somehow, you didn’t think he would like Venti very much either…

“Andrius, are you there, old friend?” Venti called as he hopped down into the arena.

Though fear wished to stop you, you rushed after him. You were dead exhausted, but perhaps you could still put up a bit of a fight.

“Wait, Lord Barbatos, I don’t know if this is–”

“Why are you disturbing my sleep, Bard?”

You immediately froze in place. Venti, however, broke into a big grin and ran forth to meet the forming Wolf-King.

“Aw, don’t be like that! I’m only here to visit you, old friend!”

The wolf’s snout curled in disgust.

“Stop wasting my time. You only come when you are in need of something.”

Venti laughed.

“Haha, you got me. Well, I’m sure you’ve noticed the rising temperatures in Mondstadt, right? I was wondering if you could help us out with that. You are the King of the North Wind, after all!”

So… he was asking another person to do something for him.

Hm.

You felt something snap. And then, you broke out into a beautiful smile.

“Lord Barbatos, there are stories of you moving whole mountain ranges into the ocean, but bringing a simple cold wind is too difficult for you?”

Venti took a step back nervously.

“W-Well, there’s no shame in asking, right–”

“After making me run all over Mondstadt and Liyue this past month, you dragged me, in this sweltering weather, up a mountain only to bother the Wolf-King of the North to do something you can do with a snap of a finger. Haha, have you no shame, Lord Barbatos?”

“W-Well–”

“It’s been a lovely day, but I’m going home. Have a nice day, Lord Boreas. Lord Barbatos.”

With that, you tilted your hat to the Wolf-King, glared at Venti, then turned and headed home.

It was a few moments before one of the two remaining spoke.

“If this is one of your citizens of this day and age, I have hope for Mondstadt’s future.”

“Why are you always so mean to me?”

xiao

The last thing Xiao expected when he phased into the Wangshu Inn was someone flying at him with speeds high enough to decapitate someone. Still, it couldn’t be said that he was surprised. So ingrained fighting was within him, though, that he easily caught the perpetrator and slammed them to the ground, spear pointed at their neck. Even upon seeing that it was you, surprise didn’t register across his expression. Instead, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

If it were anyone else, no doubt they would be terrified to be in such a position. Xiao was the Conqueror of Demons, the last of the Yakshas. All it would take is a bit of pressure and your throat would be punctured beyond repair. That paired with the dangerous glare on his face would send anyone crying to their mother. But your mama didn’t raise no wimp. Instead, you matched his gaze, completely unfazed.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You shrugged innocently.

“I’m trying to see what will get you to talk to me. You always disappear before I’m able to get a word out, so I’m glad to see attacking you is an option I have at my disposal.”

He scowled as he pulled himself back.

“You attempted to attack me, a Yaksha that has participated in countless massacres, just so I would listen to what you say? Do you have no respect for your life?”

You snorted and lifted yourself up.

“Well, I thought that you, as someone that has participated in countless slaughters, would certainly have enough skill to stop yourself once you realized I wasn’t an enemy. I wasn’t wrong, was I?”

He scoffed.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I am the last person you should be testing if you value your life.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t have to put myself in such a position if you just listened to what I had to say before teleporting off to gods know where!” You exclaimed in fury. “I can’t even get one word in before you leave! I do actually have things you need to know, you know!!”

He sighed.

“Then what is it you need to tell me this time?”

You held your hands behind your back and rocked on the balls of your feet.

“Hmm, I don’t know. You know, I think it’s about time that I leave, actually.”

It took everything out of you not to grin smugly when he gritted his teeth in irritation.

“Don’t waste my time. Just state your purpose.”

“Well, Ganyu requested your assistance with training and asked to know your schedule. Cloud Retainer asked if your spear needed maintenance. She said you can visit the next time you are free. Smiley Yanxiao downstairs wishes to know if the Almond Tofu recipe needs to be altered. Verr Goldet is concerned about visitors seeing the aftermath of your battles and asked to see if you could be more gentle. Oh, and last week, the venerable Rex Lapis asked to see you–”

He growled in frustration.

“Why didn’t you tell me that first!?”

“Well, because–”

Before you could continue, darkness enveloped his body and you found yourself speaking to the air.

You took a deep breath.

And let it out.

Another breath.

Another exhale.

Another…

You were okay. You were fine.

You’ll just let Xiao find out on his own that Rex Lapis wanted to meet next week.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #my writing #request #kamisato ayato #venti #xiao #kamisato ayato x reader #venti x reader #xiao x reader #but also not really bc there really isn’t much room here sorry #not beta-read #genshin x reader

[bbcphile]

WIP Wednesday

I'm back with more MLC excerpts!! (sorry I missed the last 2 weeks!)

In honor of it being the 1 year anniversary of my neurosurgery and of my finally being over the sinus infection from hell enough to write, here's an extra long excerpt (. . . and an extra evil cliffhanger? #sorrynotsorry. It will all work out, I promise)!

This is more from the (difanghua) MLC fic where DFS and FDB rescued LLH from the donghai beach after his shiniang tried to sacrifice herself to cure him and he shattered his own heart meridian to stop her.

For anyone who's interested in seeing how I put my analysis from the CPTSD meta into practice via fic writing, enjoy!

(To read earlier excerpts–although it’s not necessary!– you can follow these links to read part 1 (LLH), part 2 (FDB), part 3 (DFS), part 4 (DFS), or part 5 (FDB), or part 6 (LLH). Oh, and another excerpt from a WIP ask (LLH))

TW: panic attack, medical emergency, flashback (nonconsensual medical procedure)

**

He shivered as familiar icy tendrils tore through him, chilling him to the bone.

Damn it.

“Xiaohua? What’s wrong? Is–is this a trick?”

“Xiangyi, what do you need?”

He tapped the three points on his chest that had always controlled these attacks before and slid his hand down.

Nothing happened.

He tried again. A wet cough ripped itself free and black spots started to crowd in front of his eyes.

Firm hands gripped his shoulder and spun him 90 degrees. 

A large palm pressed against his back, radiating a slow, creeping warmth. Familiar callouses returned to his wrist, pushing down far harder than before.

“He needs Yangzhouman into his zhong fu,” a-Fei said, from somewhere close behind his ear. “Now!”

A shaking finger poked his lung meridian, and a sharp pain flared along his collarbone. 

“Less than that! Calm your qi if you want him to live,” a-Fei snapped. 

“Sorry,” Xiaobao murmured, his breath brushing against his face. 

Time crawled like qi through his meridians.

After a few breaths, the chokehold on his lungs began to relax, and the icicles that had replaced his bones began to thaw.

He let his shoulders fall from their perch by his ears, used some of the Yangzhouman to force the Bicha flare back to more manageable levels, and circulated some of the newly introduced Yangzhouman through what remained of his lung meridian, and through his newly reconstructed heart meridian. It did feel sturdier, didn’t it? Thicker than it used to be. As though it had been reinforced–

–his qi battering against the walls of his meridians, desperately trying to–

“Xiangyi? What is it?”

The room suddenly felt far too small. He needed more space, more air, needed this transfer to be done. Immediately. “That’s plenty. You can stop now.”

The thin stream of qi from his back cut out, but the one on his chest pulsed on. 

His skin crawled with the need to get up, this instant. “Xiaobao, I said stop. Save some for yourself.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve barely given you any yet.”

Li Lianhua’s hands started to shake. “It’s more than enough.”

“Will you quit lying? I can still see the Bicha lines on your neck.”

That was it. Another second of this and he’d make a break for the door, legs willing or no. “Brat, listen to your shifu.” He flung his arm up to bat Xiaobao’s away.

“Shifu?” His wrist was grabbed before his arm could make contact. “I’m not falling for that again, you old fox. So don’t–” a hard jab to an acupoint,

“even–” a second hit, and he forgot how to breathe,

“try it!” 

***

“–Stop fighting it, Xiangyi. Listen to Shiniang. Please, let me save you!”

“I said, let me GO.” He lashed his qi against his acupoints again, with more force than any blow he’d leveled before, even at his shixiong at the end. The reinforced structures started to shake. Just one more hit, that’s all it would take, and then–

“–Fang Duobing! What did you do?” “N-nothing! I just–”

“Undo it! Now!”

“But he was about to–”

“NOW!”

Li Xiangyi blasted his qi against the obstruction with all his strength.

There was a loud crash, the sound of splintering wood.

A wet, pained gasp from somewhere far in front of him.

“Fang Duobing!” 

“I’m fine. Xiaohua, are you ok? Say something!”

Why did Xiaobao sound so pained?

Li Lianhua blinked his eyes open to a blurry haze. 

But he didn’t need clear vision to recognize Xiaobao’s silhouette–

–slammed against the cabinets–

–with red spreading around him.

“Xiaobao,” he gasped, and tried to stumble out of bed.

“A-Fei, don’t let him–”

The world tilted wildly.

A hand pressed against his chest.

“Xiangyi, don’t you fucking dare di–”

#mysterious lotus casebook #mlc fic #my fic #lianhua lou #lhl #li lianhua #di feisheng #fang duobing #difanghua #lotus trio #Please don't kill me for the cliffhanger! #This is LLH's low point; it's uphill from here #medical emergency #panic attack #flashback #thanks to my amazing beta readers: you are the best! <3 #it is so much more obvious when read on a platform with proper indentation that isn’t tumblr #which lines are the flashback and the way the conversation in the present gets relegated to the background #because the past is more present than the present #hopefully it still comes through clearly enough #and if not it will be clearer when it is on ao3 #once the whole thing is finished