#some of these posts and tags are gonna repeat I’m sure but I’m just. fucking obsessed

[novelconcepts]

Van as storyteller. Van, with a miserable home life, a place where she has to raise herself. Van, who’s probably been telling herself stories to ward off the loneliness for years. Van, who sees stories as escape.

Van, who lands in the woods and starts telling stories aloud. Van, who has all these movies living inside her head, who lets them out to make everyone else feel less alone. Van, who takes a campfire dynamic and turns the dial to eleven, because stories are comfort, stories are safety, stories are home.

Van, who understands more than anyone expects expressly because of stories. Van, who sees the situation through the lens of a narrative arc. Beginning. Middle. End. Van, who watches the plot unfold, watches the twists and turns, and can’t stop telling the story aloud. Van, who knows all too well what kind of story they’ve landed in.

Van, who can’t stop telling the story now. Van, who sees the truth behind the tale. Van, who is finally done regurgitating the narratives that bring her comfort, who turns instead to the ones that will keep them alive. Van, who understands stories are sometimes the only way out, the only way to escape.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets spoilers #yj meta #van palmer #it’s so fascinating because Shauna IS their scribe. she records the events. but she keeps that story locked down tight #it’s VAN who tells the story where others can hear. VAN who sits at the fire and gives them somewhere to go #and it’s Van who both understands the narrative of their new life and sets them all up to embrace it #ask Lottie to give blessings. embrace the weight of unexplainable shit. hold up the queen of hearts. kickstart the hunt. #and when she goes home it is once again to a story #the story of the girl who got away. the story of the 90s-era dream of opening a video store. #the story that has no room in the script for relationship drama or unpaid bills #just keep telling it. keep telling it. keep yourself going in the hopes the end will make sense. #some of these posts and tags are gonna repeat I’m sure but I’m just. fucking obsessed #I also NEED to see some of Van’s childhood. or her talking about it. something.

[anasanthology]

Always Close Your Tabs.

WARNINGS: NSFW 18+ MDNI (I don’t care who reads just if your account age is set to under 18 don’t interact please), step-cest, pseudo-incest, stepbrother/stepsister pairing, degradation kink, light face slapping, very light praise kink, Dom/Sub, lowkey Hard Dom!Leon Kennedy, face fucking, oral (m receiving), mean Leon (I feel he’s a little ooc), like one mention of breeding kink, we got a little sweet aftercare at the end, not as tame as other stuff I’ve written, fem-specific gendered terms. Not proofread.

Notes: FIRST LEON FIC I’M POSTING 😚 actually feeling kinda good about this one! I felt like finishing this and posting it today so here so go!!! I hope you like it ☺️ as always, likes and—especially—comments are very VERY much appreciated 😌 if you have any tags you think I should add just tell me cause I’m not sure if I missed any 🧐 ANYWAYS, enjoy, lovelies 💕

4.5k words | Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Reader

The couch was irritating you, you were hyper aware of it, the texture, the firmness, everything about it. It didn’t matter where you sat though, everywhere was irritating. Everything was irritating. Your parents were out of town on some dumb anniversary. No. Your parent and her husband. Leaving you home alone with your stepbrother.

 Leon. 

He was annoying. He was rude, crass, and bitchy. When your mom had told you she was seeing a guy you were happy for her, until she told you that he had a son a few months older than you. Other kids was the one dealbreaker for you, but your mom loved this man so much and you didn’t exactly have much time left to live with her. You could deal with it. So you met Leon, he didn’t talk the entire dinner but to introduce himself and then order something. This was 8 months ago.

Now you live with him.

You were sure that there were worse people to live with, like… Bundy or Dahmer maybe. He always had those loudmouth friends of his over. Chris, who would spend the whole time yelling at the tv and Luis, who would just flirt with you the whole time. The worst of it was that they would only hang out in the living room so you were always confined to your room till they left. That was unless you wanted to hear, ‘ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! THAT DIDN’T EVEN TOUCH ME,’ and, ‘Hola, señorita, ¿Qué pasa? You look gorgeous,’ which… you didn’t wanna hear that. Not to even mention how insufferable he was when they weren’t around. Which was the situation now. Sitting on the couch next to you was Leon Kennedy, staring up at the tv watching Desperate Housewives. He had this constant resting dick face that never seemed to go away, and along with that he also seemed to be followed by resting dick air everywhere he went. Especially now that his dad took away his phone and other electronics before your guys’ parents left for their trip. Because apparently that man cared jack shit for your sanity. Now, Leon was irritated. He was insufferable when he was irritated. It just radiated off of him and you were a porous permeable surface. You guys sat like that until…

“Can I use your laptop?”

“What?” You turned to him, his words bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Can I use your laptop?” He repeated himself.

“Uh… sure, I guess?” Shrugging you got off the couch before stopping in your tracks and pointing at him, “but I get to use your car!” Your eyes widen with excitement and you point at him.

“No, no way. You are not driving my car. Not gonna happen.” He huffed in amusement and shook his head.

“And why not?” Your hands went to your hips and you made a face.

“Because,” he mocks your tone, “you’ll crash it.”

“Says you! Leon, you are like the king of bad driving. You hit a tree last month! A tree! They don’t even move and they’ve been there for like years!” Your hands were flying everywhere at this point. You had your license, but since Leon was a little older and got his a little before you he got a car. And since he got a car—and only Jeff Bezos could comfortably pay for his car insurance—you didn’t get one, you had to share with your mom and stepdad. But since they were halfway across the country, you were stuck here.

“It was in my blind spot!”

“What about that mailbox last week? Or Ms. Anderson’s side mirror? Everything can’t be in your blind spot, Leon. That’s what windows are for.” you close your eyes and sigh, “you know what, I don’t care. Bottom line is, if you don’t let me drive your car, no laptop.” You knew you were reaching, but you didn’t care. It’s not like you lost anything if he said no. It wasn’t fair he got the car anyways, your mom promised you a year ago on your birthday that when you got your license she’d take you to a used car dealership and you could pick one. But apparently ‘situations change’ and ‘things don’t always go as planned’, so you were left having to explain to your friends that it actually wasn’t gonna happen. Leon could practically burn holes through your face with the way he was looking at you, honestly that’s probably what he was thinking about. He sighs and closes his eyes.

“Fine.” He opens his eyes and gives you just about the brattiest look imaginable. You just smile and giggle. Your eyes widened in surprise. You were not expecting him to actually say yes.

“Okay!” You practically sprint upstairs to your room, grabbing your laptop off the bed. You make your way back downstairs and bring it to him. “Here ya go!”

“Thanks.” He takes it with a scowl and gets up.

“Whaddya need it for anyways?”

“Because I wanna watch stuff.” He responds flatly.

“What kinds of stuff?” ‘Porn?’ Was your first thought, but you opted not to verbalize that. 

“Stuff you can’t watch on the tv?”

“Yes.”

“Why not?” You blinked at him.

“Because you’re watching the tv in here, dingus.” He didn’t look guilty. You know, like you would if you were gonna use your stepsister’s laptop to watch porn off of. He just looks annoyed. “Can I go watch some shit now or you gonna keep interrogating me, detective?”

“Jeez, moody. Sure, go.” You shoo him and turn back to the tv as you sit on the couch. He walks away to his room and you lay back covering your face with your arm. It felt like a weight had been lifted, the tension gone immediately. Part of you wanted to say it was just because he made the air so thick with irritation he could suffocate a room, but you knew that wasn’t completely true…

Leon was hot, like crazy hot.

It was frustrating being around that all day and night. Eating dinner across from an actual model… not easy. It was especially not easy when that model was a sarcastic asshole, and it was especially especially not easy when you kinda liked it. Yes every comment pissed you off, made you want to scream sometimes, punch a hole in the wall. but it also had you wondering… ‘would he… I mean in bed did he…’ god you hoped so. ‘Ew, no you didn’t.’ It was dumb—and entirely inappropriate—but that’s all you could think about when he was around. At some point all the irritation and hatred you had for him just living here, turned into… something you shouldn’t think about.

But who cares.

You didn’t have time to think about that. You had much more pressing matters to attend to, like… desperate housewives. You sit up and lay your body on top of your legs like you were folding yourself in half. You looked up at the screen and flipped onto your back kicking your legs over the back of the couch. It was like you just couldn’t get comfortable no matter what. 

“Mmmmmuuhhhhhh.” Sighing you sat back up like normal, pulling the blanket off the back of the couch and onto your tired form. And then it hit you.

The computer.

‘Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.’ Standing up abruptly you started making your way to Leon’s room, practically running up the stairs.

You were tired last night. Really, really tired.

So maybe, just maybe, you forgot to close out of a tab last night. Or maybe a couple. Besides it is your computer, why do you need to close out of anything? You don’t, or at least you don’t when your step brother isn’t using your computer.

“Leon, I need my computer.” You knocked at his door and turned the knob quickly. Locked, of fucking course. “Leon?” Bouncing around a little on the balls of your feet, impatiently you step back from the door and shake the tension out of your hands. ‘Maybe he didn’t see it. Maybe he… didn’t even get on the computer yet. “Leon, I don’t… I don’t need your car. It’s fine, I asked Claire and she said she’d drive me this week.” His door opens like that’s exactly what he was waiting to hear.

“Okay, fine. Take it.” He steps away from the door and you walk inside, looking back at him you take extra attention to his expression. He definitely knows. You just turn back unable to think about that for too much longer, your face burning with heat as you pick up your laptop off of his bed. You feel a pair of hands snake around your waist and you tense up. “But first, I have to know why my slutty little sister thought it was a good idea to give me her laptop with porn open.” It was like your brain took a screenshot. ‘Did he just…’

“I don’t… Leon, I’m sorry. I didn’t-I forgot.”

“Oh you’re such a liar.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “No, I think you did it on purpose. You’re such a smart girl, I don’t believe you could be so stupid.” Your breath got heavier at his accusation.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I fell asleep ‘nd forgot it was on there.” He didn’t respond but his hands started running up and down your sides. “Leon, stop teasing me.” Your voice came out just a whiny whisper, sounding a lot more needy rather than urgent like you meant it.

“You know, I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be into that sort of stuff. Always get so nervous when Luis flirts with you, always get so flustered when people touch each other in a movie.” He was ignoring your request completely. “But it makes sense now, you get all shy cause you like it.” Your eyes widen and you squirm in his arms, not exactly trying to get away. Not really trying to get away at all actually. “Wonder how many times I’ve been sitting with you on the couch while your cunt gets all wet. So shameless, darling.” Your body is frozen in embarrassment, it’s kinda hot. ‘God. Don’t think like that Jesus.’

“No, never,” Liar. “Leon, I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Yet you aren’t trying to stop me, are you?” His voice is so completely self assured and cocky. Asshole. It made you so wet. You aren’t trying to stop him. You don’t want him to stop, even though you should. He pulls his hands back a little for you, so that if you want to get out you can. Without as much internal protest as you’d hoped, you stay completely still. “See, I was right. You are just a little slut who wants to get touched by her stepbrother.” You visibly cringe at that but feel slick spill into your panties at his words.

“Stop.”

“Stop what?” His hands go back around you, pulling you close to him. You could feel the outline of his hardened cock against you.

“Stop… being weird.” You shifted around in his arms.

“How am I being weird?” He snickered.

“Because you’re… stop saying it like that?” Your face was burning at this point. He was pushing up against you, pressing your hips against the edge of his bed.

“Saying it like what? Isn’t that exactly what’s going on? A dumb whore getting wet for her brother?”

“Leon.” His hand dipped down the front of your pants, running his finger down your clothed slit.

“Oh but why? It feels like you like it when I talk to you like that. I mean… given the videos you were watching, I bet you like it.” You pushed up against him. You just want him closer, it doesn’t matter if it’s wrong. He knew what he was doing, making you feel small, degrading you. “You do like it, fuck.” He started grinding himself against your back. You did like it, you wanted him to keep going, keep making you feel small.

“No it… Leon, it’s weird.”

“I know it is, but you like it. You like how depraved it makes you feel. You can’t deny it, I quite literally have seen the stuff you watch to get off.” He was laughing a little, it only amplified how hot and humiliating this was. “Can’t say I haven’t thought about it. Everytime you’d roll your eyes when I’d tease you all I could think about was taking it further, pinning you against the counter or the couch and just telling you anything I could think of.”

“Thought you said you didn’t think I’d be into this?”

“You can be into anything I want you to in my fantasies.” His other hand snakes up to start running his thumb up and down the column of your throat. This really should not have such an effect on you, but it does. Your eyes flutter and you let out a soft needy breath as you lay your head back against him. “Oh you like that? You like that I just imagine you in any position I want?” You nod your head reluctantly. Your lips open and close but no sound comes out. He’s barely even touched you but it feels like your tongue is twisted up in your mouth. You can feel your resolve just slipping away the more he speaks to you, the more he touches you.

“Leon, this is… this is so wrong…” your voice comes out so quiet you aren’t sure he could hear you. Or maybe it’s just because the blood pounding in your ears is so loud that you can barely hear yourself.

“But you like that don’t you? Yeah, I know you do.” His finger travels further up to slide across your bottom lip. Involuntarily—you tell yourself—your lips part slightly. He just laughs softly behind you, the smirk that was undoubtedly plastered on his face was audible. “Does this slutty girl want something in her mouth? There you go…” he slides his finger past your lips and onto your tongue. His thumb starts pushing slow thrusts against your tongue. Your hands go to hold onto his forearm feebly, not trying to move or stop him but just needing something to hold onto. “Yeah? You like it when I finger your pretty little mouth?” You just whine and start sucking around his thumb. “Fuck, bet you’d do so good on my cock.” You turned around to face him.

It was stupid, and you don’t know why you did it… yes you do, liar.

“What?” He grinned down at you. Now being able to see your lips around his thumb he couldn’t get enough of it. You knew you were turned on but holy shit you weren’t expecting him to look like… that. His mouth was slightly parted and his eyes were lidded. A light blush dusts his cheeks. God he looked good. You imagined you probably looked something similar, probably worse. “I asked you a question.” He pulls his thumb from your mouth and slides it down your chin and across your neck. ‘Oh, right.’

“I um… can I?” You swallowed heavily, barely able to focus on your words with his fingers rubbing at your soft skin.

“‘Can you’ what?” He just laughs, he can tell you’re struggling. Your face heats up with embarrassment realizing just how fuck-drunk you already are. And then he just gets the cockiest look on his face. “Oh, you wanna suck my cock? That what this is?” You just nod weakly, you couldn’t deny it if you tried. “Hmm? I can’t hear you, what do you want?”

“I wanna…” you swallow thickly, “I wanna suck your cock, please.” You chewed on the inside of your lip and just looked at him. He felt like he could just about cum from how needy your voice sounded when you said ‘please’.

“Fuck,” his hand slide up your neck and went to the back of your head. “I know you do. Now get on your knees.” His hand tangled in your hair right up against your scalp and he tightened his grip a little, pulling your head back ever so slightly in the process. The way he was talking to you, how he was treating you, all like you were just some object for his pleasure… fuck, it made you wet. If this situation could possibly get any worse from you guys just doing anything at all in the first place, getting turned on from your stepbrother degrading and objectifying you would definitely make it worse. You moaned softly when he pulled your hair as you started to kneel down in front of him slowly, struggling to resist the urge of responding ‘yes, sir.’ When your knees were on the ground and you finally stopped shifting around to get as comfortable as possible you finally realized the position you were in.

You were on your knees in front of your stepbrother about to suck him off…

But at this point, all thought or consideration of morality and shame had long been lost on you. Instead the lewdness of the situation only fueled the fire and part of you was just getting off on how wrong this was. You felt filthy and all it did was make you want to continue. ‘Shit, what the hell is wrong with me?’, would be what you’d typically be thinking. And you were, just less in a self-deprecating way and more in a self-humiliation way. You bite your lip at the site in front of you, Leon’s clothed hard cock in his gray sweatpants. He had noticed how fixated you were and tilted his head at you with a smirk. 

“You want it?” You just stared up at him and moved your hands up to his thighs as you slid them up. “I asked you a question, answer me.” He pulled your hair a little harder this time and you moaned a little louder.

“Yes, wan’ it, Leon, please.” You were completely breathless. It had felt like your mind had turned to mush. You hadn’t even registered his question as a question when he asked, you just wanted to touch him.

“Yeah, I know.” He pushed your head forward till your cheek was pressed up against his cock. “Pretty little cockwhore just wants me inside her.” Your breath quickened when he started grinding up against your face. “Or she just wants to feel me however I please.” His voice was teasing now and he just ground down against you harder.

“However you please, just… Leon, need you.” You barely even sounded like yourself anymore. Normal you would have just pushed him away in the beginning as you made your second-hand embarrassment apparent. Normal you would have known that that was one of the easiest ways to mess with someone and would have totally used it. But here you were instead, a strong-willed smart girl who never pulled any punches now on her knees getting debased completely and absolutely loving it.

“Mmm, you’ll let me use you however I want? What if this is how I wanna do it? What if I just wanna take my cock out and rub it against your face till I cum all over you?” Even in this state you knew he was trying to trap you. He wanted to get you to disagree so he could hear you begging for whatever you really wanted. But you wouldn’t disagree, cause you don’t.

“Even then, just anything you want.” He grinned at your reply. He was tempted, he really was, but after wanting you for so long he wasn’t gonna waste this chance just to prove a point. ‘Next time.’ He pulls your head back just a little so he can see your face. Your lips are slightly parted and you just stare up at him with a grazed over expression.

“Take it out.” He says firmly and raises his eyebrows. You look down at his crotch and bring your hands up to take his dick out of his pants. You feel a sudden sting on your cheek as he slaps you across the face. “No, look at me.” He grabs your jaw and tilts your face up towards his. You make eye contact with him as you start undoing the string on his sweatpants. Part of you wants to look away just so that he’ll slap you again but you don’t. You start pulling his sweatpants and underwear down till his cock swings free. Your eyes dart down to his dick and are only able to just barely register what you’re seeing before he slaps you again just a little harder. “Did you not hear what I said to you? Look. At. Me.” You moan softly and shake your head.

“I heard you, ‘m sorry I was just curious.” You sound a little like you’re about to cry but you’re far from sad about all this.

“You’re curious?” He mocks your voice and pouts his lip before scoffing and leaning down ever so slightly. His thumb caressing your neck. “Don’t worry, once I fuck this little throat you’ll have every answer you could possibly ask for.” You shudder a little before just nodding your head and opening your mouth. You loll your tongue out and he grins. “Yeah, stay like that.” He slaps his heavy tip on your tongue and you can taste the bitterness of his pre-cum. “Open wider.” You obey him and open your mouth further. He leans forward and spits in your mouth. Your eyes flutter and you press your thighs together, which doesn’t go unnoticed. “You like that?” He laughs and rubs one of his fingers over your tongue. “You like it when I spit in your mouth? Fucking disgusting.” He grips his cock and guides it onto your tongue before pushing into your mouth. He groans and holds your head back against the side of his bed before he starts thrusting into your mouth. “Mmm, fuck. Such a good girl with a slutty little mouth. What would your friends say if they knew you’re getting face fucked by your stepbrother, and loving it so much you’re practically dripping onto the floor? What would your mom say?” You really didn’t wanna think about his second question.

“Mmm.” You just hum around his cock in response and he smirked. It’s not like you could actually respond. You kept your eyes on him, loving the way his jaw tightened when he hit the back of your throat. Or the way the muscles in his arms would twitch and flex under his tight shirt. He was right, you did love this and you could feel the discomfort of your sticky panties between your thighs, damp and uncomfortable. His hand went to the top of your head to grip your hair between his fingers and he started pushing in faster.

“Mmh, oh fuck… love sucking on your big brothers cock, yeah? Such a fucking cockwhore it doesn’t matter who it’s from.” He was thrusting at a fervent pace and it was evident he was just chasing his own high. Using your mouth as his personal fleshlight to fuck and fill. It was hot being treated like this, especially by Leon. He tightened his hold on your hair and pushed in a little too far which made you choke. It made slick pour into the gusset of your panties. Fuck, he was right. You’re a total slut. Your hands went up to hold onto his thighs for support as your eyes closed. Spit drooled down your chin and onto your chest, tears poured down your cheeks which Leon took pleasure in wiping away. “Maybe next time you’ll let me fuck that pretty pussy. Bet she’s just crying for me, you are.” ‘Next time?’ The thought made your skin burn with arousal. “Think you’re gonna let me fill up all your holes. Fuck. Yeah, I wanna see that. My obedient little stepsister leaking cum onto my bed, absolutely spent. Such a fucking whore you’d probably ask me to do it again. Fuck your little pussy till it’s sloppy and bred.” 

He wasn’t even looking at you. His head tilted back and his hips stuttered. You could tell he was getting close.

“I’m gonna cum down this slutty throat and you’re gonna swallow it all and thank me.” His face and neck were a little red and he had this sheen of sweat that the light from his lamp bounced off of. He looked like some kind of angel and if he wasn’t aggressively fucking your face you might’ve actually believed he was. “Fuck, oh take it.” He moaned and pushed his cock to the back of your throat. You could feel his hot cum paint stripes into your mouth. He rutted his tip right against the back of your throat while he moaned and mumbled. “Good girl, good girl. Take it, baby.” He pulled back out of your mouth and looked down at you while he stroked himself a few times to make sure he was done. A little bit of cum spilled from his tip and onto your thigh. You could finally swallow now that he was out of your mouth and god it felt good. You opened your mouth to show him that you really did it.

“Thank you.” You smiled up at him softly and he shuddered at your words. He looked away from you and cursed as his face got red. He was just talking earlier; he didn't think you’d actually do it.

“Quit it, you’re gonna make me hard again.” He seemed a little embarrassed. He moved your hair out of your face and went to the bathroom across the hall. You heard water running for a bit and then he came back and kneeled in front of you. He silently used a warm rag to wipe away the dried tears from your face and the little bit of cum that spilled onto your chin. “There you go.” 

“Thank you.” He wiped away the bit that was on your thigh and you guys just stared at each other for a second. It wasn’t really awkward but more like each of you had something to say that you just wouldn’t. 

He leaned forward and kissed you. It was soft and sweet and you had plenty of room to move away if you didn’t want it. There was such a contrast from what you were doing now and what you had been doing, hell, how he was acting with you now and how he had always acted with you; it felt like it was short circuiting your brain, but in a good way. He pulled back and set the rag on his bedside table before picking you up and setting you on his bed. He crawled in next to you and put his arms around you. It felt a little weird but in a nice comforting way. It was something you really needed. You almost forgot that you had been sucking him off—if you could even call it that—like two minutes ago. You really weren’t tired but you laid there with him for who knows how long. 

Maybe you really didn’t hate having a stepbrother.

#anasanthology #anyas world #anya’s world #leon kennedy #fanfic #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #stepbro!leon #stepbro!leon Kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #stepcest #leon kennedy x fem reader

[ryndicate]

Double Down ⨳ Yoshida, Denji

“Didn’t know you were into that stuff.”

warnings: fem body/pronouns, nudes posted without permission, drug use, exhibition, creampie, videos taken with permission, stepcest, infidelity, masturbation, handjob, some spit mentions, premature ejac, implied fuckery, implied theft, if there's more i am just too wacked out to see it so lemme know!

event: @bastardblvd 's slimeball alley collab !! my first submission of who knows how many to come, im gonna try to not go crazy with it, promise

notes: didn't realize until it was done that I could've made it much more slimy but its okay. We'll get 'em next time babes 😩 this idea is expanding on a little blurb I put in cassie's inbox once, i included it in the fic itself with some itty bitty changes

By expanding, you are consenting to viewing adult/dark content, and all warnings listed above. 18+ Minors DNI

Blog Rules/DNI

Your fist slams on the bathroom door. “I swear to god, Denji! Where the fuck did you get those! Delete them now!”

“I already told you, Power found them online!” Your stepbrother yells back through the door, keeping his weight against the handle so that you can’t force your way in.

“You’re full of shit you fucking perv! You took them off my phone or something.”

“Wanna fucking bet? The real perv is that prettyboy bastard you call baby,” Denji sneers back, yelping as you get a good shove in on the creaking wood.

Your efforts to break the bathroom door pause. “The hell’re you talking about?”

“I told you he was trouble the day you two met. What—you think I was lying?”

You growl under your breath at the barenecked taunt in Denji’s voice. Yeah he told you, one time before he got high out of his mind. The only reason you even met Yoshida Hirofumi was because he hooked your stepbrother up a couple times, and you begged to tag along once. That situation ended with your brother counting stars on his buddy’s ceiling while you saw them on the backs of your eyelids with the guy’s lips wrapped around your clit. 

One thing led to another, and that “prettyboy bastard” became your boyfriend. He’s a bit of an ass, but Yoshida’s also sweet and funny, doesn’t roll his eyes at your music choices, doesn’t bat an eye when you want to go out with your friends, and is full of sexy, smirky sass that makes him so fun to be around. Sure, you sent him some photos, but he wouldn’t have put them out anywhere.

Your anger deflates, but your indignance does not. You step away from the bathroom door. “He’s got nothing to do with this.”

Denji throws the door open with a toothy grin, repeating himself. “You wanna bet?”

“You know what, yeah!” you snap at him, crossing your arms as he leans in the doorway, still looking smug. 

“Your boyfriend put your pics up on OnlyFans, and he’s using the money to pay for his xanny. If I’m right, you two gotta upload a video. Together,” Denji states, his eyebrows furrowed in twisted delight that makes you sneer at him.

“You’re disgusting!”

“Yeah? Tell me what you get if you win.”

Caught up in his childish bullshit, you push at his shoulder. “You gotta start an OnlyFans if you’re wrong, which you are. And you gotta wear lingerie.”

His smirk full drops at that, and he glares at you, cheeks darkerning. “Now who’s a perv.”

“This whole shit was your idea!”

“Lingerie?”

“How is wearing lingerie worse than telling your stepsister to fuck and post a video about it?!”

“Shut up!”

“And since we’re on the topic, I swear to god if you don’t stop taking my shit out of the laundry I’m gonna tell that redheaded lady at the DMV that she’s at the very top of your fap list.”

His blush deepens and he palms your face backwards in a light push. “The fuck she is. Shut up.”

“Yeah well, me and the thin fucking walls in this apartment would have to disagree.”

“Go find your boyfriend.”

“‘M gonna.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck him,” you hiss in barely supressed rage, gripping your boyfriend’s phone so tight you’re disappointed when it doesn’t crack. 

You’d waited for his high to hit him and let him drift off before going through his phone—what’s the point of asking him outright if it’s not true, right? No reason to stir the pot. But your stomach had dropped with unease when the account site was in his search history; you tried to brush it off as maybe he gets off to a set of camgirls, but the moment you saw the login info presaved—as in frequent entry—you began to forget the bet altogether.

Now your jaw is clenched, seething as you scroll through every racy picture you ever sent him. Each have thousands of views, hundreds of comments and jeez—so many subscribers. The heat of betrayal simmers through you. Your jaw drops at the total that’s set to drop into his account at the end of the week and resist the urge to slap Yoshida awake, but instead you set about trying to change the banking and login info, only to get halted by an infowall. Frustrated, you slip off the bed and call your stepbrother, edging into Yoshida’s bathroom so you don’t wake him up.

“You were right, and you fucking knew it, didn’t you? You set me up.” you hiss into the device as soon as he picks up with a mumbled ‘sup. You can hear voices and music in the background, paired with light explosions. You assume he’s out with his friends, probably gaming like usual. 

“You didn’t have to agree. Wait—” there’s the sound of the phone moving around and suddenly the music is gone. “Does that mean you’re gonna do it?”

“That’s besides the point, Denji!”

“Oh fuck, you are!”

“Chill your boner,” you snap, “‘m not gonna do it unless you help me!”

“Help you? What, like you want me to hold the camera or something?”

“Denji, I swear to god—”

“I’m kidding, jeez.”

“I can’t change the account info. They’re my pictures, and they’re already out there! He shouldn’t get to make money off of me.”

“Wait, so you want to keep the account?” He asks curiously. You hear a door slamming and wonder if he’s still moving, or if his friends are.

“Dude, we’ll have rent and anything else covered for the whole month with a single week’s drop from this thing. I don’t see a reason not to. I can quit Mcdonald’s!”

“Shit, for real? Lemme talk to Denki, ‘m pretty sure he knows a guy.”

“Thank you,” you coo into the phone.

“Yeah, yeah, just make sure you pay up.” You can hear his pervy smile, and you grumble a sulky fine at him.

“Ok. But he’s gotta do it soon. It pays out in a couple of days.”

“I’ll give him some cash to see if he can do it tonight. Don’t see why he’d say no—" Denji sounds a lot further away from the phone now, "—Oi! Don't bro! Give it back."

A familiar voice purrs into the receiver and you roll your eyes. "Heyyy, princess. You with that Yoshida guy still or are we allowed to hang now?"

"Byeee, Kiri. Tell Kat hi f'me." You hang up with a smile and leave the bathroom, glaring at your supposed boyfriend still sleeping. You never heard him say he was working and you always kinda wondered where he was getting his cash, but you always just thought he was dealing or something. Not the kind of think you ask about. You obviously should’ve asked.

You crawl into his lap and begin sucking on his exposed throat, admiring the sharp lines, the bob of his adam’s apple as thick lashes flutter open. 

“Mmm,” Yoshida moans. “Damn, was I out long?”

“Nah,” you hum, slipping your fingers up his shirt, smoothing over his waistline. “Got bored without you, that’s all.”

“Yeah, baby?” He grins up at you, dark eyes fuzzed out and sultry, and his hands come up to settle on your hips, easing you into a slow grind. “Wanna do something?”

“Mm. Maybe,” you tease softly, pushing his shirt up his chest and leaning down to wrap your lips around his nipples. He groans at the warm, slick suction, arching into your touch. 

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes out, his cock swelling beneath you. 

“Maybe I wanna do something…different.”

Yoshida grins up at you, half-lidded. “Yeah? Like what?”

Your nails make pink lines down his chest as you lean in to whisper in his ear. “What if you fucked me, and we let some people watch?”

His fingers dig into the fat of your waist, his dick thumping beneath you. “Anyone I know?”

Yoshida’s pupils have overtaken his coal irises, and you give him an inviting smile. “No one specific. I was thinking more like…a video or something. I wanna be able to see it later.”

“Holy fuck, baby. That’s sexy,” Yoshida grins up at you. “Didn’t know you were into that stuff.”

“Me either,” you breath softly, rocking yourself over his covered erection.

You’re left to yelp as he displaces you from your seat on his lap and pulls you out of the bed by your wrist with a wide smirk. “Come on.”

“Wait, where are we going?”

“Don’t worry baby, I just wanna pick something up at the Malmart first.”

“Fine, I guess,” you pout at him and his smirk only grows.

“‘S okay, baby. I’ll give you something too.”

“This is not what I meant when I said video, Hirofumi!” you gasp out. Your fingers are splayed out on the hood of his car as you try to stay upright. “Someone could actually see us!”

"If you don't wanna be seen, you gotta cum. Cause I'm not stopping til you cum."

"Fuck, fuck please, just hurry up!" You plead, half your words caught between whines and whimpers as he pounds into you from behind, your skirt flipped over your back.

"You think I'm not fucking you like I mean it?" There's so much smile in his voice that you want to call him on his bullshit for once, but the solid smacking of his hips into yours, the head of his dick pressing as deep as it can go with every thrust quickly makes you forget what you're snapping at him for.

"Just‐just, fucking make cum– ‘fumi!" You're desperately telling yourself you don't want to be seen. It's the middle of the night, so even here, parked under the one of the many lightposts that don’t work in grimetown's 24-hour walmart parking lot, the risk of anyone seeing is slim.

But not zero. Especially with the light from his phone camera shining down on your exposed lower half. You’re like a slutty beacon for whoever might be looking this way.

"I'm working on it baby, you gotta relax." His fingers slide around your waist, brushing past your clit and forcing a frustrated whimper past your lips at the neglect, to drag them through the slick dripping obscenely from your pussy lips. It's dripping to the rusted black hood, making it glisten. He aims the camera down at them before moving it back to the way your pussy clings to his cock. "You're so fucking wet for this, you'd think the whole thing was your idea. Well, most of it was."

You don't answer him, trying to work yourself back on him, chasing that fluttering heat twisting itself tighter and tigher with each passing second.

"Good girl, look at you. Fuck, look how bad you want—"

"Oi! Get the fuck out of here before I—"

Your whole body locks up at the tired but authoritative voice that rings across the lot.

Your boyfriend calls back. "C'mon man, have a heart. Let me finish her off and I'll give you a look." Except his last syllable staggers off with a groan, broken with a laugh as his grip on your hips tightens to a bruising pressure. The vice grip of your cunt has him looking down to sees your juices gush around the girth of his cock, dripping down your thighs to dirty the hood of his car even more. The sight pushes pushes him over and he calls out again, his voice tight but smug.

"Nevermind, we're done here."

He gets one last shot of his cum dripping out of you before closing out the livefeed.

“It’s like four in the morning,” Denji grumbles, rubbing one of his eyes as he cracks his bedroom open further at the sight of you. “Thought you were Power or somethin’, jeez.”

Denji blinks the blur from his eyes, zeroing in on your screen, and you just about hear his pupils expanding. He pulls a shaky inhale and you roll your eyes.

“Done. Bet over, and here’s your damn proof,” you grumble right back, slamming your phone against his chest and shoving your way into his bedroom to flop down into his bed. It had taken over an hour to convince Yoshida back to his place and get him to fool around enough for him to pass out and you to sneak back home.

"Also Kiri wants you to call him back. He's mad you hung up on him."

A small grin curls your lips but you don't respond, wiggling deeper into his mattress until you're comfortable.

He throws himself down in the bed next to you. “Turn on my speakers.” 

“Or you could just wear headphones, you freak.”

“Nah. Turn ‘em on.”

With an exaggerated sigh, you stretch out to reach up to his desk, turning on the bluetooth speakers that he usually uses to be a nuisance when he’s smoking. “If your dad was home, I’d kill you for this.”

“You’re not even breaking up with him, are you?” Denji chortles, ignoring your bickering. His eyes are glued to the screen as he shoves a hand into his loosened shorts. “What the fuck, you guys were outside?”

You shrug. The video’s only been up for a couple hours and it already has triple the views and donations of all the photos Yoshida has put up so far. “Looks like he’s gonna be making me lots of money, so why not? It’s the least he could do to pay me back.”

Your stepbrother doesn’t answer you, his breathing getting heavier. You close your eyes and sigh as the sounds wet sounds and your own whiny moaning starts bouncing off the walls of his room, wondering to yourself if you really sound like that or if part of you was exaggerating because of the camera. The mattress creaks every now and then as his hips jump, his arm brushing your side as he grinds into his own fist. 

You roll to face him, taking in the sound of his stuttered breaths, the muted slick sound of his fist pumping in his shorts. “So what about this gets you so riled up?”

Denji groans, stomach rippling where his shirt is pulled up around his midsection. “I’nno, it’s hot, isn’t it?”

You keep prodding, “What is? Yoshida? Or me?”

He gives a small whine that has your pulse picking up in sick interest, so you continue. “Was Power really the one to find it? Or…you were subbed to the account, weren’t you Denji?”

“Mm- maybe?”

“Shit,” you whisper to yourself, listening to your own voice begging to cum, shifting your weight onto your arm so you can look at him. A strange curiosity has taken over your body. He looks wrecked but his eyes are still on the screen. “Denji, look at me.”

Your body tingles as his eyes tear towards you, but he’s still got a hand around himself, hidden from your eyes. “Can I touch it?”

“You wanna what?” he moans, just barely, teeth digging into his lip.

“Can I jerk you off?”

You’re a little surprised when he actually hesitates. You’ve tolerated it all this time; as much as he pervs out on you, and your stuff, yet somehow he’s got a little crumb of morality left in there somewhere. And right now…you wanna kill it.

“My panties, my pictures…is this really any different?” you ask softly, sweetly, as you run with this electric current, placing your hand over his covered groin. You grin as his hand immediately goes slack at your touch and slips out of his shorts, and you get to feel for the first time how hard he is, rubbing over the smooth fabric, feeling out the shape of him.

“I mean…I guess not.” He sucks in a breath as you grip him over his shorts and give a couple experimental strokes. “B-but what about—?”

Denji’s head drops back to the pillows with a groan, phone in a death grip as you tug his waistband down, his dick slapping free. It’s pretty and slender, flushed deep red.

“What about what?”

“What about prettyboy, huh?” He finally gets it out as you spit in your hand and take him up again, stroking him steadily from base to tip, squeezing at the top with a gentle twist of your wrist. Yoshida always seemed to like it, seems like he does too. 

“That’s what you’re worried about? Not the whole stepsister thing?” You shrug. You’re still stung about Yoshida’s betrayal, so this feels like a little bit of retribution. A little bit. You still need to find more ways to make him pay first, but this is a good start. “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend, but ‘s not like you and me are dating, Denji. It’s a handjob. What’re you gonna do, marry me?”

Denji splutters and his dick throbs in your hand. “Don- Don’t say stupid shit!”

You coo at him and his lips part, panting hard as you work him faster. 

“What– haa, what if it wasn’t just a handjob? What then?” Denji gives a low moan as you settle over his lower thighs so you can gently cup his balls. They seem to tighten under your touch, before he relaxes and he tries to look at you. 

“What, like my mouth or something?” you ask playfully, leaning over and showing him your tongue, letting a strand of spit drip down to his dick.

A litany of curses tumblr from his mouth as Denji squeezes his eyes shut, fingers twisting into the pillow beneath his head as his cock jerks and shoots a load of hot sticky white into your palm, getting smeared down his throbbing shaft as you slowly work him through his high until only a couple dribbles get pressed out by a final pass of your thumb over his slit.

“Wasn’t expecting you to finish already.” You wipe your hand off on his comforter and try to ignore the throbbing in your panties. You feel like you can still imagine the slick from earlier tonight seeping out of you, but it’s as if it’s no longer enough.

“Holy fuck,” he mumbles under his breath, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes as he calms his breathing enough to raise himself up on his forearms. He watches you as you take your phone and flop down next to him. “I didn’t even get to see the rest of the video.”

“It’s online now, freak. You can watch it whenever.”

“Yeah...” 

You’re too busy trying to go through the account settings to notice the way he’s eyeing up your thighs; he hasn’t even put his dick away yet. 

“Hey,” he mutters softly, ignoring your glare when he puts a hand on your thighs and pulls them open. “If you can touch me, does that mean I get to touch you?”

Your pulse jumps and you try to keep your true thoughts hidden as you hide back behind your phone. “I guess that’s fair. If you wanted to.”

You can hear the click of Denji’s throat as he swallows, and you can’t stop the low whimper as his calloused fingers brush your inner thigh, right at the edge of your panties. 

They’re warm as they brush over the seat of your panties, timid but curious as they explore the surface, stroking over the tempting warmth and wet seeping through the thin fabric. A bolt of pleasure bursts and has your gut clenching as he swirls over your clothed clit

“H-hey, wait,” you say suddenly, nerves getting the better of you as you try to make sense of Denji taking control of your body. “It got switch but this isn’t my banking info. Is it yours?” You flip the screen towards him, and his brown eyes squint in the pale blue light.

“Uh, nah, that’s not mine.”

You mewl as he pulls your panties to the side and traces a finger through your folds, delicate, hungry. “Who did you say– mm, h-hacked the account for me?”

“I told you. M’friend Denki, his buddy did it. That purple-haired guy who works at the smoke shop.”

“The one wi—” you suck in a breath as he sinks his index finger into you. “With the tattoos?”

“Yeah him,” Denji mumbles, hardly paying attention to your words. He’s grinding against the bed as he pushes his middle in alongside it, imagining the tight squeeze around his dick instead.

Your groan is part pleasure, part dismay as you realize just who he’s talking about. “Oh fuck me.”

Denji bullies his way between your thighs in an instant.

“N-no, Den– that’s not what I meant!”

#csm x reader #yoshida x reader #denji x reader #yoshida hirofumi x reader #denji smut #yoshida smut #csm smut #chainsaw man smut #chainsaw man x reader #tw::stepcest

[sixhours]

One Day at a Time - Chapter 6 - Transition

Author's note: Good news! The rest of this will probably be posted today, with the exception of an epilogue I haven't had the guts to write. When I do, it will be posted as a separate work, and it's not necessary to wrap up this story. Thank you for reading! Your comments and reblogs are feeding me. <3

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel Miller x f!OFC, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, SMUT, gratuitous smut, dubious consent (drunk sex), unplanned pregnancy, fluff, references to past miscarriages, angst, hurt/comfort, romance, age gap (~21 years), childbirth, fluffy baby stuff, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

~*~

After weeks of sleeping on the narrow, lumpy mattress in Ellie’s old room, his back finally gives out.

He’s reaching for the coffee pot and something about how he moves his shoulder causes a domino effect of rippling pain that starts at the nape of his neck and ends by setting his sciatic nerve on fire, every muscle along his spine locking up tighter than a fist.

He barely makes it to the couch, easing himself down to a prone position with a groan that he hopes Charlie can’t hear from the bedroom.

Her footsteps echo on the stairs.

No such luck.

“Did someone just die down here?”

“M’fine,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “Just my back.”

“What happened?“

Ellie chooses that moment to come through the front door. “Joel? I need a–”

“He’s on the couch. Think his back gave out,” Charlie says, now standing over him, looking concerned.

Ellie’s face pokes over the back of the couch. “Again, old man?”

“M’fine,” he repeats, trying to roll to his side to try to stand, but that only aggravates the nerve and sends a ripple of spasms up his traitorous spine. “Fuck!”

“Should I go find Maria?” Ellie asks. “Those pills she had worked last time–”

“No, I just…need to rest for a minute,” he grumbles, knowing full well he’s out of commission until someone finds him a muscle relaxant.

“Is he always like this?” Charlie asks.

“Pretty much,” Ellie says, too quickly for Joel’s liking.

“I’ll go find Maria,” Charlie says, surprising them both when she takes Joel’s hand and gives it a tender squeeze. Ellie’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Make sure he doesn’t hurt himself again. I’ll be back,” she addresses Ellie before heading out the door.

When Charlie is gone, Ellie plops into the armchair and leans forward, an almost predatory smirk on her face.

“So…is she your girlfriend yet?”

“S’not like–”

“If you say ‘it’s not like that’ one more time, I’ll take the damn pills myself,” she says.

Joel groans. “Do we have to do this now?”

“Got ya right where I want ya,” she says. “Spill it, dude.”

“No, we’re not…I don’t…I dunno,” he grumbles.

“You ‘don’t know?’”

“S’what I said,” he grits his teeth against another wave of pain, forcing himself to lie absolutely still. “It’s complicated.”

Ellie rolls her eyes. “That’s just what grown-ups say when they don’t want to tell you the truth.”

He winces. “Yeah. Well, the truth is…it’s complicated.”

She sighs. “Are you sleeping together?”

“That’s none of your–”

“Just saying, if you’re fucking her, she’s probably your girlfriend. So it’s not that complicated.”

“Ellie, I’m not havin’ this conversation,” he growls, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Well, you should probably figure it out before the baby gets here.”

He can’t argue with that, so he doesn’t.

“It’s gonna be weird…having a baby around,” she says thoughtfully. “Remember how bad Tommy was after Izzy was born? When he kept putting Maria’s breastmilk in his coffee by accident?”

Joel snorts. “Yeah. I remember.”

“You’re gonna be busy,” she says. “Babies are a lot of work.”

Even in his pain, he picks up on the unspoken question in her voice. He softens. He wants to sit up so he can look at her, but his back protests. Instead, he reaches blindly for her hand.

“C’mere.”

There’s a reluctant pause, and then she’s standing beside him, slipping her fingers into his.

“I know I haven’t been, uh…great…lately. M’sorry.”

She shrugs, biting at her lower lip.

“Truth is…I was just gettin’ used to the idea of bein’ your dad, and now with the baby…”

He takes a deep, shaky breath.

“It’s a lot. An’ I know it’s prob’ly a lot for you, too.”

Her voice is too light, like she’s trying to cover something up. “You’ll have a real kid soon.”

He frowns and gives her an experimental pinch between her thumb and index finger. “Dunno. You feel pretty real to me.”

“You know what I mean,” she says softly, and he feels it in his heart, a twinge more powerful than any back spasm. He grips her fingers tighter.

“It’ll be different for a while…and yeah, I’m not gonna get much sleep. Prob’ly be…distracted. But it’s still you and me, kid,” he says. “An’ I’m always gonna be here.”

His back takes that moment to seize up again and he hisses. “Shit, sorry.”

She sighs, but there’s a smile in it. “At this rate, you’re always gonna be here on the couch .”

“What’d you need, anyway?” he groans, trying to change the subject.

“Oh, a hammer.”

“What for?”

“Cat found me this new poster, was gonna hang it in my room.”

“There’s one in my toolbox; s’by the door,” he says. “Just put it back when you’re done.”

She narrows her eyes. “You’re not gonna hurt yourself again, are you? Your girlfriend’ll have my ass.”

His answering glare has no effect and she leaves him, laughing.

Charlie returns with the pills a few minutes later, and he swallows two of them eagerly before she can fetch a glass of water. Then he hears her rummaging around up in the bedroom. She comes back with a heating pad.

“Found it at the post,” she explains. “Your kid is killing my hips. Lift up.”

Your kid.

He frowns. “I don’t need—“

“Spare me,” she sighs. “Lift up.”

So he does, still grumbling, and she slides the pad under his lower back and plugs the cord into the wall. It’s instantly warm, oozing heat up his spine, and the muscles slowly start to unwind. He can’t hold back a groan of relief.

“It’s the bed, isn’t it?” she sighs, easing herself into the armchair.

“No,” he says too quickly. “Strained it at work. Tommy’s got us workin’ doubles to get the new barns up.”

“Uh-huh. Maybe you should consider moving back into your room.”

“Not kickin’ you out,” he scoffs.

“I’d stay there, too.”

He side-eyes her. “No playin’ house, remember?”

“I think we might have crossed that line already,” she murmurs, quirking her lips.

Then she’s up and doing something in the kitchen, and Joel tries to focus on letting the heat work its magic. He knows the muscle relaxant has kicked in when he can roll over slightly and it doesn’t make his back seize. He tries to sit up, but Charlie is instantly at his side, holding him down by the shoulders.

“Gotta work,” he mutters weakly.

“Nuh-uh. I already told Tommy you’re out of commission,” she says.

“The hell’d you do–”

“You’re not good at letting people take care of you, are you?”

He grunts. “Says you .”

“Yeah, we have that in common. Not so much fun on the other side, huh?” she murmurs.

She plunks down a mug of coffee, a glass of juice, and a plate of eggs and toast on the table next to him, then puts a DVD in the player and hands him the remote.

“Stay,” she commands. “I’m at the post all day, but I’ll bring you lunch on my break. You’d better be horizontal when I get back.”

He wants to complain, but the pills have made him slow, and she’s out the door before he can think of a response.

The coffee is black and strong, just the way he likes it. The juice is awful–it’s green, some combination of things from the garden–but he chokes it down anyway, thinking of Sarah and her vitamins.

And then he passes out because he forgot that taking muscle relaxants on an empty stomach will do that. He wakes a few hours later, mouth dry and tasting of that awful juice, to find a paper bag and a note from Charlie have replaced the food and drinks on the table.

It’s a sandwich. Take another dose if you need it. I’ll be home by 6.

He’s pleasantly surprised to find he can sit up. Sure, the noise he makes in the process is unflattering, and he’s not going to be doing cartwheels anytime soon, but it’s an improvement.

This time, he eats the sandwich before he takes the second dose and manages to stay awake until Charlie gets home, but his head swims and he barely makes it halfway through their nightly movie. He wakes to her tugging gently on his hand.

“Come to bed.”

He’s too tired to protest. He lets her lead him to his bedroom, lets her pull back the covers and tuck him into bed, lets her wrap her body around his.

“You just wanna take advantage of me,” he slurs lightly into her hair.

She snorts a laugh. “Yes, Joel. This was my grand plan. For you to knock me up and throw your back out so I could keep you as my sex slave.”

“Mmmff. Knew it.”

“Go to sleep, old man,” she murmurs, nuzzling into his chest until he can feel her smile against his skin.

~*~

Sometimes Charlie is so distant, it’s like she isn’t there at all. She stares into space and he has to say her name four or five times before she hears him. Sometimes he has to physically touch her to bring her back, and then she looks at him as though he’s a stranger.

After the second or third time, he recognizes it as the disassociation of grief. He lost days of his life after Sarah was taken from him, days where he existed in body only, when Tess or Tommy would have to pull him back from the edge of a deep, dark pit. He’d wake up unable to remember how he’d gotten to bed or find himself in the middle of a fight with no idea how he’d gotten there. It might have scared him if he thought he had something to lose.

Those are the nights she needs him.

He knows he should turn her away. He knows he’s using her as much as she’s using him. But she comes alive when they’re together, and he tells himself it helps, and maybe it does.

He takes half as many showers.

Tonight, she arches back into him as he thrusts into her on her side from behind, curled around her body, heady with the feeling of being surrounded by her, all soft skin and warmth. She’s murmuring into his palm, slicking her tongue around his fingers, sucking them into her wet mouth and humming. His other hand rubs flutter-like circles against her clit the way he knows she likes.

She’s three orgasms deep and still hungry, panting and pleading, more, there, so close, please .

And then she comes hard, clenching around him and wrenching a hoarse name from her throat.

Not his name.

It barely registers until she’s scrambling away to sit at the edge of the bed, still trembling from the aftershocks, pulling the sheet across her naked chest.

“Shit, shit, shit, I’m sorry,” she gasps.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, reaching out to pull her back against him, but she jerks away from his touch.

“Fuck,” she grits out, followed by a low, keening sob. “Shit. Fuck.”

Some part of him has always known; the way her eyes clamp shut at the critical moment, the way she positions him and guides him and takes and takes and takes, the way she asks to forget, to pretend. Joel knows it’s foolish to think she needed him and not just the idea of him: a warm body, a working cock and fingers and tongue.

“Charlie, it’s–”

Her muffled sob cracks something in his heart. Then she’s locking herself in the bathroom before he can find his feet.

Shit.

He gets out of bed and pulls on his boxers, goes to the closed door. “Charlie?”

“Go away.”

He rolls his eyes. “Dammit, I’m not…mad.”

Silence.

“I don’t care if you…if you need…if you…fuck,” he hisses. “Just talk t’me.”

Her voice is so faint it barely registers. “I can’t.”

“Okay, you don’t have to, but…can you at least open the door?”

“No.”

He makes a fist against the wall, gritting his teeth. Without a better idea, he turns and slides down the wall, pressing his back to the door.

I’m here , he thinks helplessly. Just tell me what to do.

Silence. And then…rustling, a soft grunt, until they’re back-to-back with the door between them. He hears the hitch of another muffled sob.

“I always…thought it would be him,” she whispers finally, voice thick. “That we’d do this together.”

He feels a familiar shameful flush. What can he say?

I’m sorry it happened the wrong way, at the wrong time, with the wrong person.

I’m sorry I’m not him.

But he’s not sorry at all. He’s a selfish asshole, so he doesn’t say anything.

“We wanted this so much. And sometimes it feels like a…a betrayal. Like I’m moving on…forgetting him.”

He swallows hard, thinking of Sarah, wondering if he might hold this child in his arms and feel that same gnawing guilt, like he doesn’t deserve to be whole again.

“I think he’d want you to be happy,” Joel says softly.

“I tell myself that, I do…but I don’t think I believe it. I don’t–”

More silence. He shifts his weight. The floor is cold and hard, digging into his ass. It can’t be good for her back.

“When we…started…you said…you needed to pretend,” he tries, tipping his head back against the door and closing his eyes. “I knew that goin’ into this. Knew I wasn’t, uh…I’m not–”

“I thought…I wanted…I don’t know,” she hiccups. “I don’t know anymore.”

“We…you don’t need to—”

“It hurts,” she grates out. “It h-hurts and I miss him and it’s not f-f-fucking fair.”

It’s not fucking fair .

What else is there to say?

“I know,” he whispers roughly. “I know.”

They sit like that until his ass is numb and her silence is too unnerving to bear.

“Come back to bed,” he says, defeated and not expecting her to answer. “Please.”

There’s a watery sigh on the other side of the door. Then he hears her moving, the slightest groan as she gets to her feet, and he eases himself off the floor. The door opens. She’s wrapped in a robe, one hand cradling her belly under the terrycloth, the bedsheet pooled at her feet.

Her eyes meet his, red-rimmed and hollow. He cups the back of her neck and pulls her into an embrace.

“S’alright,” he whispers when her tears wet his chest and she shudders against him. He sways like he used to when Sarah was little, rocking her back and forth until she quiets.

“Oh!”

She jumps suddenly, startling in his arms, a soft gasp escaping her lips. Swiping at her eyes, she grabs his hand, guiding it down her body until it’s resting just below her belly button. Her skin is warm and taut and smooth.

“What—“

Then he feels it, the tapping against his fingers, some tiny arm or elbow or foot poking at him from under her skin. She laughs through tears as the insistent little being seems to dance under their hands.

“Never been this strong before,” she whispers thickly.

Joel doesn’t trust himself to speak, pride warring with sadness in his chest. They stay like that for a long time, his hand on her stomach, new life roiling beneath his palm.

~*~

The baby should be able to hear them now, so at night, he reads out loud from a tattered copy of The Fellowship of the Ring , sitting up in their shared bed with a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose. The reading was his idea, the choice of material was hers.

One hand holds the book, the other rests on Charlie’s stomach. She says she likes the sound of his voice, but most of the time, she’s asleep before he gets to the third page. At this rate, the kid will be twenty before they finish the first book in the trilogy.

Tonight, the baby–Coconut, he thinks–is particularly active, rolling and kicking against his hand. A particularly hard jab causes Charlie to jump, hissing a soft ouch under her breath, and he puts the book aside.

“Hey, kid, settle down,” he says, rubbing at the squirming lump. “Let your mama sleep.”

This earns him another pointed jab; the kid is all attitude.

“Mmm,” Charlie mutters. “I know what’d help me sleep.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmmhmm,” she stretches, arching her back, and he can see the outline of one dark nipple through her bra.

“Again?” he murmurs, sliding a hand up to cup her breast and rolling it gently through the fabric. “Already?”

She sighs at the contact. “Mmm. Please?”

He tosses his glasses on the nightstand, more than happy to abandon the book, and curls around her, nuzzling her neck. “‘Fraid I’m not going to be much help with, uh…y’know.”

Not for the first time, he wishes he was about fifteen years younger. Even then, he’s not sure he could keep up with her. He wonders if she was always like this, or if it’s the pregnancy. He wonders if he’ll get to find out.

They don’t talk about this, or what will happen after the baby comes. They go to her midwife appointments together and Joel grinds his teeth through every second, but he stays by her side. Sometimes she holds his hand, and when she kisses him, she does so with the full force of her being. But just like the baby, their relationship doesn’t have a name.

She guides his hand between her legs, under her panties, finding her slick and swollen. She gives a contented little hum of pleasure when his finger traces her seam. “I’m sure you can figure something out.”

He huffs a breath into her nape, kisses the spot where the soft, downy hairs tickle against his nose, and strokes her the way she likes, circling and tapping until she’s arching against him. She comes almost immediately, fluttering and pulsing against his fingertips. A little one.

“More?” he murmurs, gentling his touch as her breathing calms.

“Mmhm, please.”

Her clit is a hard, slick little pebble under his fingers. He draws her orgasm from her more slowly this time, teasing, building her up until her climax is a growl sprung from the depths of her throat and her thighs clench his hand in a vise. He cups her sex gently and trails kisses along her neck, her throat, her shoulder as she rides it out, whispers into the shell of her ear, “More?”

Charlie reaches back and threads her fingers into his hair in answer, pulling him tighter against her, and he breathes her in, sweat and soap and something uniquely her. It drives him crazy, makes him feel feral and protective and alive. She turns her head, seeking his mouth, and he obliges, tongue parting her lips and tasting her as she hums and shivers and writhes against his hand, don’t stop please don’t please don’t stop . 

“I got you,” he murmurs against her lips in between kisses, fingers circling and circling until his wrist aches. He can feel the baby roll and kick under his forearm, feels her fingers gripping him there. He loves watching her like this, loves the way her back arches and jaw goes slack with pleasure, the sounds she makes when she comes.

And then she does, coming undone in his arms with a throaty moan, shuddering and keening in a way that makes his cock twitch.

“Better?” he murmurs, finally pulling his hand away and groping for the blanket they’d tossed aside.

“Much,” she sighs, relinquishing herself to his warmth. “You sure you don’t want me to…”

“M’fine,” he says, wrapping an arm around her belly, which has gone mostly still. “Kid calmed down.”

“Yeah. S’the hormones,” she murmurs drowsily. “Oxytocin.”

“They can feel that, huh?”

“Mmhm,” she says. “They can feel everything.”

“...everything?”

“Don’t make it weird,” she murmurs, and he can feel her smirking against his arm. “Read to us?”

Us . They’re slowly bending all the rules, he thinks.

He groans. “Thought you were goin’ to sleep.”

“I am, but I like your voice.”

“Uh huh. Damnit, lost my place,” he grumbles, grabbing for the hefty paperback. “Never find it again, damn book is six-thousand pages long. Thought this’d have dragons, so far they’re just describing’ stuff and yackin’.”

“It’s Tolkien,” she yawns. “It’s a classic.”

“Buncha elves and gnomes and shit,” he mutters. “This Dildo Baggins character sounds like a porn star.”

“They’re hobbits,” Charlie laughs and pokes him in the thigh. “And it’s ‘Bilbo’, you grouch.”

He squints. “Right, need my glasses. Tiny print.”

Charlie snickers, something about old eyes , and burrows deeper into the covers as he finally finds his reading glasses and his place.

He doesn’t make it two pages before he hears her snore.

~*~

They’ve kept up the movie night routine even though there’s no good reason for Charlie to stay off her feet. They’ve rented the last of the action flicks from the library, so now they’re working through television shows and sitcoms. Some unlucky soul from the time before left behind a sizeable collection of M*A*S*H episodes on tape, so Charlie often falls asleep to the sounds of Hawkeye’s sarcastic drawl.

They’re on the couch in their usual spots, her with a bowl of homemade strawberry ice cream perched on her belly, him with a beer. The ice cream is the only thing she craves–strawberry preserves mixed with cream and sugar, then frozen and scooped into a bowl. Joel makes a new batch every other night before they go to bed. They’re going through Maria’s summer preserves like crazy, and he’ll be doing work on the community greenhouses for the rest of his fucking life at this rate.

But it’s worth it, he thinks, as she takes another bite of the rich, creamy concoction, licking the spoon clean with her strawberry-pink tongue. She’s a fucking distraction. The laugh track is going off in the background, but with every bite, her eyes roll back and her lashes flutter, and he wants to take that spoon out of her mouth and–

He adjusts himself, forces his eyes back to the screen, takes another sip of his beer. Jesus .

A few minutes later the bowl is licked clean, and a well-placed kick from the baby sends it rocking, tumbling into her lap.

“Apparently we demand more,” Charlie laughs.

“Kid’s gonna come out lookin’ like a strawberry,” Joel mutters.

She smiles. “Baby wants what it wants.”

The phrase triggers a memory, and he chuckles. “With Sarah, it was mangoes.”

Sarah’s mom, sitting at the kitchen table in their tiny one-bedroom, devouring the fruit straight from the rind, sticky juice coating her fingers, running down her chin.

Baby wants what it wants , she’d said, and then he’d kissed her, lips syrupy sweet.

He doesn’t remember if he loved her–there was no room for love to grow, really. Not enough time, not enough money, not enough maturity between the two of them. But they’d made Sarah, and he’d loved his baby girl enough to make up for the rest.

“Who’s Sarah?”

Charlie snaps him out of his reverie. She’s looking at him curiously.

Oh.

He reaches for the remote, pausing the show, and the silence around them has weight, he can feel it pressing against his chest. He coughs, clears his throat, tries to figure out how to start.

“She was, uh…my daughter. Before.”

She blinks at him, wide-eyed, her question a small, breathless whisper. “You had a daughter?”

He ducks his head. “Yeah. She, uh…was killed on Outbreak Day. She’d be about your age now. Little younger, I guess.”

Her eyes are so bright, they almost glow.

“Her mom…my ex…liked mangoes,” he explains. “When she was pregnant. Couldn’t keep enough of ‘em in the house.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Didn’t know you liked mangoes,” he says weakly, trying for a joke. She doesn’t smile.

He takes a deep breath, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t tryin’ to hide it. It never felt like a good time, and it’s…I didn’t want you to feel like I was…replacin’ something.”

She looks around then as if seeking some kind of clue, something obvious she might have missed. There are no photos of Sarah on the mantle, no drawings or keepsakes to indicate he’d been a father before Ellie–only the broken watch on his wrist. He holds it out to her, the shattered glass face shimmering in the light of the TV screen.

“She gave me this for my birthday,” he says, and the words stick in his throat. “It’s…all I have.”

“And her name was Sarah?” she says in a small, tight voice.

His smile is sad. “Go figure, huh?”

Her lip quivers. “Joel…”

She sets the bowl aside and starts to get up, the bulk of her belly and gravity working against her.

“Don’t–” he starts, but she makes it to her feet before he can protest.

Then she’s standing between his knees and cradling his face in her hands. There are tears in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. She cries at everything now, but that doesn’t explain why he wants to cry, too.

He wants to say something reassuring, to set her at ease, but his tongue is thick in his mouth and it hurts like it does sometimes, like the wound is fresh and raw and new all over again.

“I can’t,” he says thickly, pleading. “Not…right now. Not yet.”

She nods slowly, kisses his forehead with something like love, and cradles him against her. Her warm, full belly presses against his chest, against his heart, and he hates that it soothes the ache. It’s too much like forgetting.

Her whisper at his temple is a balm.

“One day at a time.”

#fanfic #fic recs #joel miller #the last of us hbo #the last of us #pregnancy #babyfic

[miuszn]

Hi ;), how are you? you can make a headcanons of dealer college student Ellie Williams with fem reader, please :)

hi anon !! i rlly rlly love the hcs of college student + dealer!ellie like wow that’s def her .. i have a few hcs so i’m gonna share some of my favs with u !! ( note : i’ve looked for hcs like this before so i might accidentally repeat some that might’ve been posted already !! if that’s the case lmk so i can give credit , it’s never my intention to copy anyone T_T)

dealer!college student!ellie x fem reader hcs

♡ she earns lots of money from it , and i mean like , a lot . ( at least for a college student ) which means she spoils u lots n lots .. whenever ur out w her and u point out something , whether it be a dress or bag or anything else , that u like and think looks super cute , she insists on buying it for u . even tho u tell her every time it isn’t necessary and she doesn’t have to buy u anything , she tells u to not worry and that she does it bc she loves seeing u happy <3

♡ u guys r literal polar opposites . like . super different . everyone was so surprised when u guys said u were dating .. but yk they say opposites attract :)

♡ HATES when u do her makeup but only ever allows it when she’s high .. u take pics of her n show her after n she’s mad embarassed n keeps telling u to delete them but u refuse hehe

♡ gets jealous whenever u smoke without her . especially if it was w someone else . and god forbid she finds out THEY gave u a joint and it wasn’t one of hers .. she likes to say it’s bc u never know what’s other ppl can put in them but truth is , she just takes genuine offense to it

♡ gives u a million discounts .. she likes to call them “ pretty girl discounts “

♡ u loooove tagging along w her when she makes deliveries , but she always makes u stay in the car bc she wants u to be safe

♡ she only ever makes edibles whenever ur baking together bc she can’t bake for shit so she has to rely on u . oops . she can’t even make those brownie mixes u only have to add water and an egg she somehow fucks it up .

♡ when u first started smoking , she insisted u only do it around her so she can watch u and make sure ur safe bc “ people can be dangerous n u never know what can happen “

#ellie williams x reader #the last of us #ellie x reader #the last of us 2 #tlou #tlou 2 #ellie williams #ellie williams x you #tlou x reader #ellie williams hcs #ellie williams headcanons #arielle’s headcanons ୨୧

[msfcatlover]

Yet more Reverse!Robins

(Calling back to my tags on this post, and one of the images from this one that live rent free in my brain.)

Joker gets bored torturing Jason on his own after a couple days, and sends out invites to all the other rogues (or at least, the ones he’s pretty sure won’t rat him out and end the fun) about a “surprise present” he’s working on for Batman. Steph has absolutely no interest involving herself in Joker’s nonsense, so she immediately throws it out and focuses on securing her area of the city to keep her people safe. She doesn’t think much more of it.

Six days later, Tim shows up at the door of one of her clubs. Not in costume, barely hiding his identity, hardly even armed (like, the bare minimum for walking around this part of town this late at night, and most of that is artfully hidden in his crutches & leg braces.) Aside from Damian or Bruce crashing the party to accuse Steph of stuff (that like 60% of the time she didn’t even do,) none of the Bats have ever approached Steph in an actual place of business before. She’s curious. She tells security to let him in, and show him to her table.

“Mr. Wayne,” Steph says, because fuck it, if Tim’s only going to mess up his hair and barely slap some concealer over the dark circles under his eyes, she isn’t gonna maintain his identity for him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Tim shakes her hand, looks her dead in the eye, never glancing at her guards or flinching at his name. A proper little businessman, in a ratty band t-shirt and a pair of old jeans. “I need a favor.”

“You? Need a favor from me?”

“Yes.”

“The great Timothy Wayne?”

“I didn’t come here to play games.” Tim glares. “Yes, I need your help. Yes, it has to be you. Yes, I am out of other options. No, I am not above groveling—”

“Really?”

“Steph.”

“Don’t,” she growls back, “try to play this like we’re friends, Tim.”

Tim crosses his arms and scowls off to the side. “…Fine. We’ll keep it professional.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I wouldn’t be opposed to seeing you on your knees.” Tim’s eye twitches as Steph takes a sip of her drink. “What brings you to my humble abode?”

“I told you, need a favor,” Tim repeats.

“Well, that could be anything,” Steph says, rolling her eyes behind her mask.

“My little brother’s missing.”

Steph’s drink goes down the wrong way. She forces herself to swallow her cough. Steph clears her throat to mask it, and sets her drink back on the table.

Tim continues like he didn’t notice. “The police can’t find him. The Bats can’t find him. I have been leveraging every advantage I’ve got, but nobody has seen him in over a week—”

Ice slips down Steph’s spine as she remembers the invitation she’d thrown out right around a week ago.

“—but you have contacts they don’t.” Tim takes a deep breath. “I know you hate us, I know you…” His eyes flicker towards her guards. “…You’ve made your opinions very clear—”

“I should certainly hope so,” Steph mutters.

“—but whatever you think of me, or Bruce, or Cass, Duke, Damian, anybody, Jason’s innocent. He’s suffered enough.” Tim has a warning in his eyes: You’ve hurt him enough. Like she’d actually tried to kill the kid or something (if Steph wanted Jason dead, he’d be dead; honestly, she didn’t even leave any permanent damage. Her lesson was no harsher than anything any of them got on a bad patrol, she was just more open about the point she was making.) “He’s just a kid.”

“And yet, you keep letting him out into this city.”

Anger flashes across Tim’s face, but he visibly chokes it down. “I’m not having this conversation with you. This has nothing to do with Jason’s hobbies or field trips, or whether or not you approve of them. This is about a 15yr old kid, missing in Gotham City, following the biggest Arkham breakout in the last 10yrs. Are you going to help or not?”

Steph sighs, propping one elbow on the table and leaning on her fist. “What have you got for me?”

“Jason snuck out for a party nine days ago—the night of the breakout.” (Translation: Jason was in uniform, probably on patrol.) “We have a system where even if he doesn’t want Bruce to know what he’s doing, Jason still calls me to check in every 2hrs. He checked in a little before 2, because he said he was about to be ‘really busy’ and didn’t want me to worry. I told him to go home. He told me he’d be fine, that he wasn’t anywhere near the mayhem.” Tim’s expression is flat, dead. “He didn’t check in again. Nobody’s seen or heard from him since. There have been no ransom demands. Last sighting was outside of Genevieve’s in Burnley.”

The invitation arrived six days ago exactly.

Steph needs to go. Steph needs—Steph needs to find that letter, she can’t remember if it had an address or a time, she can’t—

“I’ll pay whatever you want,” Tim tells her, seemingly unaware of how Steph’s breath is caught in her lungs (remembering what it was like to be 16, tiny, and at the whims of a madman. Eight full days. Did Steph suffer that long? She doesn’t think so, but the time all blurs together under the pain…) “Money is obviously no object. Weapons? Name them. Tech? I’ll build it for you myself. I can wipe your record clean. I can keep the Bats off your back. I can—” Tim swallows. “My balance isn’t the best anymore, but if you want me on my knees, I can beg. If you need me to demonstrate my gratefulness or if you need someone to hurt, I—”

“Oh my god, STOP!” The table wobbles as Steph jumps to her feet, nearly spilling her ginger ale—but then, she doesn’t really want it anymore. Her stomach is one giant knot, and she’s really regretting those onion rings she had earlier.

“Please,” Tim says, soft and far more earnest than Steph can deal with right now. “He’s my little brother. I… it’s my fault he thought he could go out like this. If there’s anything you can do…”

Steph needs to get to her office. She needs to find that note, and if she can’t find it, she needs to find Joker’s delivery boy so she can beat the answer out of him. She steps away from the table. “I’ll get back to you.”

Tim grabs Steph’s wrist as she passes by. “Please—”

“I said, I’ll get back to you,” Steph snaps, yanking her arm out of his grip. She looks away from Tim’s wounded expression. “I can’t do anything if you’re dragging me down.”

Tim’s shoulders sag with relief. “Thank you.”

“…You owe me. Whether I find him or not.”

“Thank you.”

Steph walks away. She doesn’t look back.

(She shoots Joker in the throat, grabs the nearest heavy object—curved & metal, but much else doesn’t register—and beats the clown’s head in while screaming insults in League dialect. She strips down to her suit’s under layer to keep Joker’s blood away from Jason, tossing her gloves away without caring about fingerprints, and kneels down in front of Jason, making herself as small as possible. She undoes the bonds, checking his injuries, and when Jason collapses into Steph’s arms, she holds on. Steph cradles Jason in her arms, helps him rehydrate from her water bottle, and apologizes in every language she knows for not being there for him sooner.)

(Without the mask or the armor, with Steph’s hair pulling wild & sweaty out of its braid, she doesn’t look nearly so much like the villain who hurt him before. Jason wonders if he’s dead or dreaming, to finally have the hero he looked up to for so much of his childhood decide he’s worth saving after all.)

(Steph would go to the ends of the earth to protect him from that point forward. When questioned, she just mutters something about not “letting all that work go to waste.”)

#reverse!robins #reverse robins #reverse robins au #reverse batfam #Reverse Robins AU Steph #reverse robins AU Tim #red hood steph #red hood stephanie #red hood stephanie brown #red hood!steph #red hood!stephanie #red hood!stephanie brown #oracle!tim #oracle tim #oracle Tim drake #oracle!tim drake #stephanie brown #steph brown #tim drake #timothy drake #batfam #batfamily #bat family #bat fam #batman #my writing #mine #// #OH BOY #I GOT CARRIED AWAY ON THIS ONE

[umbrify]

So @liloinkoink tagged me in a little game where I post about all my wips, so people can see them and ask questions about them. I realized that I uh. I have twenty different AU concepts (all made with my beloved friend @made-nondescript ), so I’m gonna pick a few:

Merfolk AU (fWhimmy): in which Jimmy, sheriff to a small coastal town, realizes there’s something— or, someone— living right near their shores. fWhimmy mer au where fWhip is the merperson, and they have to figure out how to make it work, despite… everything.

And… is he sure about this? Joel’s gonna laugh at him— Jimmy’s certain he is. He can’t even blame him, really. What a ridiculous thing to say: I found a rock at the rock beach and I think there was a guy in the water— yeah, right. But… it feels important. It feels important enough to try. He has to try.

“I think… I think I met someone in the ocean, two nights ago,” Jimmy murmurs.

This AU does have one posted work already— [We Will See Tomorrow], which is like a prologue of sorts!

Vamp AU (WRA siblings, future fWhimmy): One mistake is all it takes to change the course of your life forever, as fWhip and Gem find out the hard way. Roseblings become vampires the messy way, and find it quite hard to come to terms with.

“Well, hello there!” The man calls brightly, perhaps just a touch too loud for the occasion at hand. fWhip bites back a flinch at the sound.

“Uh— hi,” he calls back, “I take it you have what I’m looking for?”

The man chuckles slightly, an easy smile stretching across his scarred face, and fWhip raises an eyebrow. The man steps closer, positioning himself next to fWhip. “You’re after some really valuable stuff here, you know.” The man leans down slightly, looking into fWhip’s eyes. “You sure you’re willing to pay the price?”

(If he were more observant, perhaps fWhip would’ve noticed the way the man’s too-sharp teeth flashed in the sickly orange light— his first, and only, warning.)

This one has lots of art, which can be found under [#esmp vamp au]!

Space AU (fWhimmy— sorta): They’ve landed on this planet, and too late, they’ve realized they can’t leave it. How do you come to terms with the fact you’re definitely doomed? Jimmy and fWhip are co pilots of a spacecraft sent to check on a planet that sent out a strangled distress signal, and now they’ve got plenty of time to get acquainted before the end— if fWhip could stop making things worse, that is.

“Commander Jimmy, transmission regarding the emergency distress signal received from planet ANC-19.”

“This planet is lost, and so are we. Do not send a rescue mission. This planet is sick, it cannot be saved. I repeat, do not send anyone else here. They will die. There are no survivors. There is nothing of value left here.”

Snowpocalypse AU— or, hey what if Xornoth kidnapped Scott and used his ice powers to cause eternal winter? Wouldn’t that be fucked up? Scott’s absence is noticed very quickly by Gem, who drags fWhip and Jimmy to his house to check on him

“Oh—“ Gem turns the handle, the door swinging open slightly. “Scott! I’m coming in!!”

The lights are on as the step inside— fWhip knew they were, of course, but…

Well. He didn’t expect this.

The house is completely trashed— the coffee table is turned on its side, a mug of what might’ve been coffee or tea has shattered on the ground, the liquid partially stained into the rug. The pillows from the couch are strewn all around the room, and half the cabinets are thrown open, as if someone was looking for… something.

“…Scott?” fWhip calls, hesitantly.

Something is definitely wrong.

(More quick ones below the cut!)

fWhimmy Apocalypse AU (also featuring lots of fWhip & Pix): In which fWhip and Pix make the hardest trip of their lives to Jimmy’s house, with fWhip determined to see Jimmy again, against all odds. Apocalypse, but not in the zombie sense— think more like if sculk was a bit more fucked up. This one has all of its current writing posted [here!]

Superhero AU: You know the trope of “villain goes to superhero’s doorstep, super injured, and is like ‘I didn’t know where else to go’?” That, but it’s Jimmy going to fWhip, and fWhip is more of a vigilante than a hero, and Jimmy doesn’t necessarily… like… get redeemed. I remember this one had a long section in the notes about how Jimmy is a villain by choice, not because he was forced to be.

Antique shop AU: Nondescript and I went off for a While about this one, which created [this post]— basically, Pix runs an antique shop in a college town, and he hears about the lives of fWhip and Jimmy when they visit his shop

Android fWhip AU— or, hey what if the reason empires one fWhip survived the blast was because he wasn’t human at all, and nobody knew until Gem finds him in the wreckage? And then there’s the whole situation with— well, how do you just not notice that your brother is an android? This one had a whole scene where Gem takes a mangled fWhip over to Mezalea, as one of the last standing empires, and Joel tries to help them repair fWhip. I made [art] for this one, which is the only thing this AU has so far

There are a lot more, but I think that’ll do for now! I’d be happy to answer any questions about any of these, or any of my other writing :D !!

(As for tagging folks, I don’t wanna bother too many people, but if @blocksruinedme or @stitchthesewords wanna share any AU’s, go wild my friends!)

#umbrify talks #umbrify writes #thanks for the tag Lew I have spent Hours on this post #counted all my AU’s and I have Twenty. so. #I’m not cramming twenty AU’s into this post <3

[darsynia]

Repeat After Me | Oneshot

(Tony Stark/Reader, Soulmate AU Canon Divergence 'Mob AU')

Summary: You're thriving in Loki's Empire as the most respected smuggler out there. You earned that reputation by remaining neutral, traveling between the city-states run by powerful Magnates like Loki's thrall Tony Stark in NYC or the relocated Wilson Fisk in Miami. It's lucrative business, but the real reason you have to stay moving is written on your arm.

Length | Rating: 3,635 | T (for language)

Notes: Set ten years after Loki successfully mind controlled Tony Stark and took over the world in 2012. My tongue-in-cheek take on a mobster-style AU, series potential if folks are interested.

THIS IS MY VOTE FOR 'SOULMATES' IN ROUND 1 OF TROPE MADNESS 2023 which is run by @thestanceyg! (note: also posted on AO3, same title tho!)

Also written for @caplanbuckybarnes's Three Words Challenge, using 'Don't look back.'

Tags: @ronearoundblindly @chickensarentcheap @themaradaniels @starksbf @tiny-anne @starryeyes2000 @my-soulmate-is-mycroft

Repeat After Me

You might be the only person who has both soulmate Words written on your body.

Repeat after me: don’t look back.

At first, you’d found them comforting. After all, they’re predictable in a way almost no one else’s Words are: if you’re right about them, it means you can choose whether to speak those fateful Words aloud. Then Loki came with his Chitauri army, and everything changed.

It’s been ten years since Lord Loki became the ruler of the world; ten years of societal restructure and bleak acquiescence. It turns out that humans are well adapted to be ruled, just as he’d said-- but perhaps not quite in the way he’d intended. Everyone has figured out their own way to survive, whether it’s in one of the densely populated city-states, the agricultural backwaters, or the uneasy suburban sprawl that straddles both extremes.

You’re one of the few who can travel easily through all three, and you pride yourself on that. Pre-Empire, you’d been a top exec at a shipping company, and your talent for managing large egos, ability to memorize maps, and knowledge of machinery was easily translated to a life as a smuggler. Your top rule? You do not take sides. Ever. It’s what made you successful, what kept you alive.

And no one knows the real reason.

“Zephyr, how long before you head out?”

You’re half-in, half-out of your truck, the open door heavy on your ass thanks to all the armor plating. “Weather looks like it’s gonna hold for another hour and a half, I was thinking forty-five minutes?” you guess, squinting up through the tint on the upper part of the windshield.

“Got time to meet with a potential?” Karl laughs at your obvious groan, adding, “Fancy suit says D.C., maybe New York. Probably shouldn’t risk skipping.” You trust your second in command, even if you don’t want to take his advice. Karl Mordo is pragmatic, honest, and a baronic pain in your ass sometimes.

“Fuck. Okay. But I’m going right now, before I de-grease for the trip.” You hop down and hold up your dirty hands, wiggling your fingers.

“What if they’re from Stark?”

You clench your jaw. “His people should know better, even after two years. We just did Fisk a favor, maybe he’ll remind Loki’s strongman that there’s a reason he relocated to Miami.” 

Karl nods and heads back to the house, and as soon as he’s gone, you hold still and count to ten to calm your breathing. Tony Stark rules the northeast with a literal iron fist, and no one’s sure whether the mind control has turned him cruel or he’d been released years ago and just likes it. Only people Stark trusts have been close enough to know for sure. 

Despite your reputation for neutrality, a few years back he’d sent his clever and ruthless ex-turned-CFO Pepper Potts to ask you to spy on some of the biggest players on the Eastern Seaboard.

It had been the first time you’d gotten close enough to see the electric blue of Loki’s mind control first-hand. Her threats had been articulate and terrifying, but your response ended up having a lasting effect on the way Lord Loki does his business. Word is that the emperor includes additional spells and enchantments to prevent a simple blow to the head from releasing a thrall and undoing years of work. 

You still get messages from Potts, filtered heavily by word of mouth, through the Resistance.

When you get up onto the porch, you note with approval that someone’s already gotten the burly, suited visitor some sweet tea. He turns around, and your heart sinks as you recognize him from news articles. Tony Stark’s sweet-faced associate, Happy Hogan. 

“Zephyr, is it?” he says warmly, reaching out a hand to shake. You offer him your left hand, and he immediately grins. You wear a binding on your right forearm, and it’s basically an open secret that your Words are there. Words you’ve made very clear you intend to remain a secret, on pain of death. “We have a job for you.”

“That’s truly unfortunate,” you say with a smile. “Your boss burned that bridge years ago. All I have is my integrity, I’m sure you understand.” Leaning up against one of the porch pillars, you send all of your anxiety to your legs, to hold you up and maintain the illusion that you’re not distressed. “Since you’ve come all this way, I can offer to connect you to one of the reputable smaller orgs.”

“Interesting you mention integrity. Did you know your right hand man is a known member of the Resistance?” Hogan’s tone is light, almost teasing.

You do your very best not to react, but on its face, you doubt the accusation. Karl had come to you deeply disillusioned by the Resistance, after working with them openly for a year, spending double that in prison, and being released with an interdict that prevented any employment but fieldwork. By the time you brought him in, he was full of quiet fury and determination to survive. The money you spent to clear his interdict was some of the easiest you’ve ever spent.

“I assume you have newer information than 2013?”

Hogan pulls an envelope from his lapel pocket and hands it over. Inside is a set of pictures showing Mordo speaking with and shaking the hand of Steve Rogers, the most wanted man on the continent. Karl’s hair has only been in that particular style for a few months.

You hand them back, keeping your hand steady. “If you can point and shoot pictures, why not point and shoot that particular problem?” The question is important to your public front, but you also want to know what kind of answer you get, whether it’ll be something you want to pass along.

“One step at a time,” Hogan says, walking over to you. He stops only inches away, a physical power play that masks the psychological threat.

“Which step are you on?”

“The one where you come with me to speak to Stark in person, or we reveal how thin your claims of neutrality really are.”

You nod as though you’re considering it, then say, “What if I dismantled everything and moved to Arizona? Started over.” It’ll sound like a joke, but you’ve considered it. You want nothing to do with Stark.

“You’re welcome to make that decision after the meeting.” The guy’s so confident he slides his hands into his pockets, fully relaxed except for the way his pulse is jumping in his neck. There’s zero chance that Hogan’s anxious because of you, so that means it’s important to his future that you leave with him today. If you have to, you’ll use that.

“You act like meeting with Stark won’t destroy my reputation just as much as your false accusations would,” you point out. 

Happy Hogan shrugs. “Stark is prepared to offer you one alternative. Meet with him or give us a credible way to contact Pepper Potts.”

You want to swear under your breath, but instead, you channel all your frustration into a single act of defiance. Lifting your grease-stained right hand, you press it right in the center of his chest, fingers spread so you get his white button-down and both lapels.

Then you shove, letting your hand slip against the resistance he immediately puts up to avoid moving backwards and show weakness. You would have expected anger, maybe even to be thrown to the ground, but Hogan just chuckles. It’s dismissive, diminishing, and does nothing to lower your level of fury. Especially not since he’s got you over a barrel.

You push past him toward the house. “I’m sending Mordo with my load. Your guys fuck with him and I’ll tear down every fucking thing you’ve built or die trying.” Given the clout you’ve accumulated in the last decade, which one depends on whether the emperor is in town to shield his pet Avenger or not.

You hadn’t told Hogan you’re coming with. You both know you have to.

The flight to New York City is stressful, but most of that is because you know how much effort and care it takes to maintain a fleet of airplanes. Now that flights are nearly all restricted to just the Magnates, you doubt the due diligence of their maintenance teams. This is reinforced when you land and walk down a presidential-style rolling staircase instead of into the abandoned airport. It’s hard not to think of what air travel could do for your business. One flight would take so much food from one place to another-- but the safety margins are horrifying.

“What’s with the face?” Happy Hogan asks, after the two of you get into the waiting limo.

“Just imagining how much work it would be to get an orange to Maine nowadays.”

“You don’t have to live in Georgia, you know. The offer’s always open.”

“Fuck your offer, and fuck you,” you say coolly, crossing your arms and looking out the window. There’s a non-zero chance he’ll kill you, but you’ve got a trick up your sleeve that might just carry the kind of irony that would make even a man as powerful as Tony Stark cry. It’s the reason why Hogan wants Potts back, the reason she won’t go, not while he’s in Loki’s thrall.

Midgard hadn’t been interesting enough for the trickster god. No, he’d grown bored by the way most of his new subjects had responded to his rule. Too many of you had accepted that you weren’t strong enough to resist him, and so, with the power granted to him by the staff he always carried, Lord Loki had bestowed each soulmate pair on the planet a random power set.

Pepper Potts and Happy Hogan’s version had been the ability to detect lies.

Tony Stark’s inability to find his soulmate had been newsworthy before the attack on New York, but now that he’s the de facto ruler of the place, his search has become an obsession.

It’s the reason you live in Georgia, the reason you wear the distinctive binding around your right forearm, the reason you’d balanced yourself on the knife-edge of neutrality instead of choosing a side that’s not Stark’s and then leaving yourself vulnerable to being discovered.

Stark’s Words are well known: ‘Don’t look back.’

Ironically, you don’t think he has connected your well-known quirk about protecting your forearm with his soulmate search. He wants you because Lord Loki wants Pepper Potts’ lie detecting powers, and Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff’s soulmate bond is keeping her hidden. Karl Mordo has forsworn his connection to the Mystic Arts, but a man will do many things to prevent his own death, including oathbreaking, so instead of putting pressure on him, they’ll put pressure on you.

And somehow, you’re going to have to resist without speaking a word.

The car is underground when it stops. You nod at Hogan in thanks for his hand as you exit the vehicle, and he cocks his head to the side and looks at you.

“Passive resistance, eh? Good luck.” He leads you through a warren of hallways, stairwells, and locked doors. This display of strength is clearly designed to intimidate and/or give you time to think and fear what comes next, but you wonder whether it’s annoying to Hogan. Undoubtedly he’d be taking the short way if it weren’t for this task, and that kind of time-wasting adds up.

Sure enough, the last leg of the trip is an elevator ride. The doors open out into the wide expanse of the penthouse, a rich space with wall-to-wall windows looking out over the city. A man in a well-fitting white suit walks out from behind a bar area, and you recognize him to be Tony Stark himself. Instead of a tie, the signature blue of his arc reactor glows against the buttons of his shirt, and as he approaches you, you see that it’s matched by the blue tint of mind control in his eyes.

That knowledge is dangerous; already, this man’s leverage over you has doubled. You wonder what you’ll have to promise to get out of here alive. 

Tony Stark stops a foot away and looks you over. His brown-blue eyes linger on your right arm, and as you’d planned during your pseudo perp-walk, you shift into a challenging pose, popping your hip out and lifting your chin. Stark’s lips curve into an appreciative smile. It’s attractive, he’s attractive, and you’re annoyed that you’ve even noticed. Everything about him exudes the confidence of a man who is never challenged, and that’s always been your catnip, your kryptonite. You love to bust egos, it could even be said that you live for popping that bubble. This man might be the first one you’ve ever met whose arrogance is well-deserved, though, and that could be a problem.

He gestures, and behind you, Hogan answers.“No weapons that we found, multiple scans.”

Ah, so the many doorways and long hallways had more than one purpose, you think to yourself. Well played. You stay still and expressionless as Stark looks you up and down, eyes lingering on your chest and your arm. He lifts his glass in an appreciative salute before finishing off his drink. Something about the way his throat works makes you feel the burn of the alcohol in your own chest.

“What’s under the armguard?”

“A nasty burn. Sunlight makes it worse.” It’s the truth-- you’d tried to burn off the words as soon as you’d heard about Tony Stark’s search for his soulmate. The magic of the mark protects it, so all you’d managed to do was destroy the skin around it, causing a wound that never fully healed. The vambrace you wear is for concealment, yes, but it’s also there to keep the damaged skin protected and dry. You turn your head and direct a grumpy look at Hogan. “To be honest, this whole meeting could have been an email. What is it that you two want?”

Before you can stop him, Stark steps forward and slides his hand into the hair at the nape of your neck, forcing you to meet his eyes.  With a fierce, determined expression, he says, “Repeat after me: don’t look back.”

You can feel the strength in every single aspect of the man, voice, personality, grip, but that just fuels your need to fight back. With all your might, you manage to shake your head just enough to convey your refusal.

Tony Stark’s expression lights up. You realize your mistake immediately: if it didn’t mean something, if the words weren't important, you would have had no trouble repeating them. A million impossible escape routes spill out like marbles in your mind, scattering every other thought.

“Go on, Hap. Keep this to yourself for now,” Stark says. The triumph in his voice is as frightening as it is sexy. 

“You got it, boss.”

You fight back a strong feeling of desperate inevitability. Really, your only hope now is to wrench free and follow your contingency plan: to say the words and play them off, avoiding the physical contact that reinforces the bond. If you can convince this man that you planned to trick him into thinking you’re his soulmate, you might still get out of here with your free will intact.

That’ll be easier to do without Hogan there, so you force yourself to remain still. Stark sweeps a broad, warm caress along your neck with his thumb, and god, it’s been so, so long since anyone’s touched you like that. There’s something insidious about it, like some part of you is already lost to him if you enjoy it even a little bit. All you can do is close your eyes, clench your fists, and wait.

The elevator doors close, and Stark starts pulling his hand away, stroking your neck possessively on the way. You do your very best not to like it. In truth, Tony Stark the billionaire, Tony Stark the Avenger was absolutely your type. You imagine that after ten years of mind control and cruelty, there’s probably little of that man left. 

“You might as well say it,” he tells you with a smug little quirk in his voice. You open your eyes to see that Stark’s headed back to the bar. “Got a favorite drink?” You shake your head. “You strike me as a Tequila Sunrise type. Fun to look at, goes down easy.”

You cross your arms and glare at him, but it was a cute line for such a tense situation. Wrong, but cute.

Stark gestures to you with the Tequila bottle. “So, what, did you think you’d just stay quiet and run back home to Georgia? Happy says it didn’t take much persuading.”

You smile at him, but not warmly. One thing you hadn’t considered was that Stark might be pleased, might be looking forward to the other… perks of having a soulmate. That might make him more inclined to be kind to you, at least until you try to bluff him. You can use that.

“Don’t think I can’t see how furious you are, little one,” Stark purrs. “I’m still figuring you out, but I’ve had a file on you for years. You want to know what people say about you?” 

He rests a large hand on a folder you hadn’t noticed before, pushes it across the bar in invitation. You shrug and turn your head to look out the window, the picture of indifference. You hope it pisses him the fuck off.

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s all trash now anyway, now that you’ve met with me.” Stark holds it up. “They’ll never trust you again.” He tosses it behind him. When it strikes the wall, the many single pages that made up the bulk of the file fly out around him like some kind of monstrous confetti, to the accompaniment of breaking glass. You wonder how many bottles he just wasted, whether they’re even replaceable in this brave new world you’re all trapped in.

You nod, feeling the weight of the coming moment. Mentally you gird yourself, but physically you try to adopt an attitude of casual discourtesy. You want Stark to hate his soulmark, to hate you, enough to send you away or destroy you.

Anything, anything but touch you again.

Letting out a sigh, you spread your hands in a ‘what can you do?’ gesture and say, “Don’t look back.”

The words strike him, so much so that he chuckles ruefully on an indrawn breath. A bitter disappointment sweeps across his face before it hardens into anger. You're grateful; you'd expected something-- a thunderclap, a rush of adrenaline, a gust of magical wind, but there’s nothing to indicate that you’ve both said the Words. Maybe, maybe, you can get out of this, if you’re careful. If you’re just the right level of heinous bitch.

“Did you practice that?” Stark finally says. He walks out from around the bar, and you take the opportunity to make your way over to the window, the picture of unconcerned, unattached, unbothered.

“What do you want, Mr. Stark?” Shit, your voice is shaking.

“I want a challenge,” he snaps, his voice closer than you expected. He’s just a foot away, and you can’t hide your shock fast enough. “You think that file was just for show? I read the whole thing.”

“Then you know I don’t want to be here. I have a business to run, a business you’ve fucked over with--” you back away in the guise of making a dismissive, furious gesture; “--whatever this is. What do you want, so I can get the fuck out of here?”

“What’s wrong, pet? Foot caught in a trap?” he asks, tone suddenly gentle, soothing. You scoff, turning on your heel to stalk away from him--but Stark reaches out swiftly and catches your hand in his.

A jolt of pleasure-fueled electricity floods you with an almost overwhelming need for closeness, companionship-- to be known. It's as if until this exact moment, you’d been empty, and you gasp, screaming against the sudden, insidious desires that have cropped up in your mind.

Oh god, no, this is too much, this is--

What you don’t expect is for Stark to answer.

Oh FUCK yes, telepathy. My second favorite superpower, right after flight.

You snatch your hand away and fall back onto the window, eyes wide. Stark shakes his head almost imperceptibly, then throws both hands in the air as if in disgust.

“You really had me, but there’s just… nothing. I should toss you off of the roof, you know that, right? Faking soulmark words? Ballsy.” He twitches his lips as though he can’t decide whether to be angry or not, and steps closer. “Hold out your hand?”

There’s vulnerability in his expression, something you hadn’t at all expected to see, but you are still reeling from what had passed between the two of you. Tony Stark is one of the smartest men on the planet, and certainly one of the most ruthless. He’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants-- and it’s well known that every inch of his penthouse is under surveillance, not to mention whatever Lord Loki has monitoring his most powerful thrall.

Just like the words written on both of you, neither of you can look back.

Sullenly, you lift your hand, and immediately, Stark engulfs it in an angry grip.

Okay here’s how this is going to go: Do as I say, and we can keep this our little secret. Resist me and I’ll tell Loki I’ve finally found my soulmate. Believe me, you do not want anything to do with what he has in store for us.

Possibly TBC if there's interest...

#threewordsforcaplan #trope madness 2023 #tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #tony stark imagine #tm2023 #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #tony stark fic #tony stark fanfiction #soulmate au #canon divergence #mob au #but only if you squint #tony stark x f!reader

[onthewaytosomewhere]

SEVEN SENTENCE SUNDAY (SMUTTY)

ACTUALLY COUNTED TODAY - AND THEN I WENT AND POSTED IT ALL SO YA GET THE LINK FOR THE SMUT TOO LOL (because apparently the smut posted last week wasn't enough - Alex thought he needed to get railed who am I to argue)

So, I have only looked long enough to see who got tags from so my later tags might include peeps that already did this -so just ignore that if it's the case lol

Thanks ever so much to @hgejfmw-hgejhsf & @junebugclaremontdiaz for the tags today ❤️

so excited to see what everyone is up to today ❤️

beneath the cut cuz well NSFW - it's all smut lol - for my sentences and the link for this 3400 words of smut

Alex fills the room with moans and whimpers, the occasional wail of “Henry” or “Baby” leaving him as he gets closer to having what Henry knows he wants. He tongues the spot beneath the head of Alex’s cock, making sure to hold his hips down to keep him where he wants him. He feels Alex’s hips move, chasing more, a groaned “Fuck” bouncing off the walls, echoing as if someone turned up the reverb of their encounter. He licks at the pre-come leaking steadily from the tip of Alex’s cock, tonguing at the opening, lapping up everything he can. Alex is pleading at this point, “Please, Henry” and “Fuck me, baby,” spilling from his mouth on repeat and increasing in volume as Henry works his tongue over Alex’s cock, lightly, just enough to tease but not sufficient to alleviate Alex’s current rock-hard situation. When Henry starts to feel the urge to rut against the sheets, he figures it’s about time to move this along, giving them both the release they are so in need of now. The pop of the lube container that he grabs from where they had it on the bed earlier must be enough to tell Alex that he’s about to get what he wants if the “Oh, yes” that falls from his lips wasn’t an indication the way he brings his knees up and spreads his legs would be. He lubes up two fingers and slides them into Alex. He’s still loose and protesting, “I’m still good - just get in me please, Hen, I just want –“

so i'm just gonna go down my list and send out some no-pressure tags (if y'all've already done this just saying 'hi' lol) @adreamareads @anincompletelist @bitbybitwrites @duchessdepolignaca03 @england-would-fall @firenati0n @forever-fixating @inexplicablymine @kiwiana-writes @magicandarchery @priincebutt @suseagull04 @typicalopposite

and i guess an open tag if you're seeing this and want to post something (plz tag me i would luv to see what you're up to)

and link if ya need something more to go read lol

#seven sentence sunday #red white and royal blue #firstprince #rwrb fic #wip and the whole fic in one bang #why not #like the way you work it #alex just wanted to get railed i guess #apparently i didn't already write enough smut last week lol #it's just smut #i can't believe i actually counted today lol

[p3ski]

Pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: Post Pacifist Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Masterlist

Read on AO3 here:

Summary: A lot has changed since the revolution. Crimes against androids are now punished in the same way as crimes against humans. A reluctant Gavin Reed and his new partner RK900 have been assigned to investigate a string of disturbing murders. Despite the shift in Detroit's social climate, Gavin still holds reservations about whether or not androids are truly alive. Will his developing feelings for 'Nines' be the thing to change this?

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Depression/Self Destructive Behaviour, Eventual Smut

Word Count: 3K

*Hey, this is Finn Treacher's voicemail. Either I've got a hot date, or I’m working for a change. Leave a message*

Gavin put down the phone, moving to the next number on his list. After several hours, the monotony of the task was beginning to drain him. His focus waned as his mind drifted to other, more personal concerns. 

*You've reached the voicemail of Gideon Heith. Call back when I'm home.*

He'd spoken with several possible leads, but none had been overly promising. Some had vehemently denied their involvement in any criminal activity - refusing to cooperate and hanging up on him. Others had been surprisingly cooperative, but with no prior offences or convictions, Gavin doubted they could be linked to the case.

*Frank here. If you want to leave a message, go ahead, but I ain't gonna listen*

He could only pray that one of their otherwise innocuous leads might be able to point them in the right direction. 

*...Hello?* 

Thank God - "Hi, this is Detective Gavin Reed, Detroit Police Department. We wondered if you might be able to come in to answer a few questions." 

*...Hello? Is anyone there?* 

"Gavin Reed. Detroit Police", he repeated, a little louder this time. "We wanted to ask you some questions about -"

*Ha, I'm just messing with you, buddy. Leave a message after the tone*. 

The detective held his breath, grip tightening on the phone, before hanging it up in aggravation. He allowed his body to slump forward and let out a dismaying groan. Trapped in his funk, he failed to notice the soft footsteps approaching from behind. His shoulders were then grabbed by a pair of firm, slender hands. A set of lips drew closer to his ear before exclaiming a thunderous "Boo!." 

Gavin flinched, albeit for no other reason other than the noise. He lifted his head to stare morosely at the would-be assailant, "Go away, Ti. I'm busy." 

The officer whistled at the icy reception. "Oof, someone's touchy today." Standing reclined against the desk, she leant forward for a closer examination of her friend. "Looks like you could do with a break - or three. When was the last time you slept?" 

"Last night. In my bed." 

"Not buying it", Tina shamelessly prodded underneath his eyes, tutting disapprovingly as she did, "You've got more bags than an airport conveyor belt."

"Was there any purpose to your visit today? Or do you just take joy in pissing me off?"

"A little bit of both" She grinned before pulling up an available chair. "I just wanted to see how you were getting on. Seems like an interesting case."

"Interesting is not how I'd describe it. 'Bane of my existence' is more like it."

"You've got a lot of leads, at least" Tina said, glancing down at the paper on the desk. "Something's got to come out of one of them."

"Easy for you to say. I've been stuck at this desk for three fucking hours, and all I've got to show for it is a headache."

"Would it not be quicker for Nines to help you? Pretty sure he could just upload the numbers and call them all simultaneously."

Gavin sneered resentfully, "Yeah, that'd be much easier. If the plastic prick hadn't gone a-wall."

Tina, who had picked up a pen and began clicking it absentmindedly, promptly stopped. "...Nines? Really?" 

"Yes, really." 

"The same Nines that does overtime every day? The one whose idea of a 'break' is to deep clean the canteen?" 

"I can't see any android detectives skulking around. Can you?"

Ignoring his friend's bewildered expression, the detective reluctantly picked up the list and typed in the next number. He waited fractiously as the dial tone rang - until a crisp voice eagerly informed him that he had reached another voicemail. Having reached the limits of his already tenuous patience, he shoved the phone back on its dock. 

"It seems a bit unusual", Tina pondered, rubbing at her neck. "Are you sure you didn't do anything to upset him?"

"Why do you always assume it's my fault?" Gavin complained, "It's been acting weird since yesterday. Ever since I told it that it couldn't come over for a goddamn sleepover." 

Tina was clearly intrigued by this, as her eyes sparkled with excitement. Leaning forward on her hands, she batted her eyelashes teasingly. "In what context would you be having a sleepover? Gavin Reed, you sly dog."

" Don't - it's nothing like that", he responded firmly. "I told it about the Tiff thing, and now it's decided it wants to appoint itself as my live-in cat sitter. It's weird."

"He can see that you're struggling, and he's trying to help. What's so weird about that? Besides, it seems like a good idea." 

Gavin hated to admit that there was some truth in that statement. While strange and unwanted, Nines' suggestion was based on reasonably solid logic. Given the redundancy of sleep, it did make sense that the android would be a prime candidate to monitor things overnight. Still, the offer did not infer anything more than a methodic calculation.

"Let's not delude ourselves that an android is capable of empathy. It wouldn't be offering if it didn't think it could get something out of it." 

Tina chuckled. "You're such a pessimist. He would get something out of it. The satisfaction of helping a friend."

The detective bristled at the suggestion. Friendship implied a level of closeness that he shared with very few. An android was hardly top of the list. Besides, Nines itself had expressed its own opposition to the sentiment.

"Right, I'm done here." Gavin pushed himself up from his desk with a low grunt, "Getting some lunch. Wanna come with?"

Before Tina could respond, the walkie-talkie in her belt crackled to life, accompanied by a muffled voice. 

*All Central Units respond: 1200 in progress at 245 New Street. Shots fired, 10-13 requesting backup. Repeat, 1200 at 245 New Street, requesting backup. Over*

Tina brought the device to her lips, acknowledging the dispatcher, "Badge number 5195 10-19 to 245 New Street." She looked back to Gavin and shrugged her shoulders in apology. "Sorry, I gotta go."

"Fine, fuck off then", he retorted, gesturing his hand in a dismissive motion, "Didn't want you to come, anyway. Was just being polite."

"Love you too", she winked playfully before making a swift beeline for the exit. Gavin readied himself to leave as well before hesitating momentarily. 

He wondered if he ought to find Nines, at least to tell it that he was stepping out. He dismissed the notion, however, rationalising that the android had made zero effort to inform him of his whereabouts - and it was only fair that he should return the favour. 

While adopting a steady speed out of the station, Gavin was quickly swept up by the wave of hurried pedestrians. He struggled to match pace, not wanting to cause an obstruction, but feeling as though his legs may give out at any moment. In search of a detour, he turned off at the end of the street and towards the entrance of a nearby park. It would add significant time to his journey, but the reduced crowding and access to benches more than made up for that.

The walk was calm this time of year, without boisterous families or noisy wildlife to disturb the peace. The expanse of bare, leafless foliage seemed to sparkle in the sun as the rays bounced off films of sleet.

It could have been his favourite season - Winter - if it wasn't for the damn cold. 

Gavin hardly noticed the time that had passed. Before he knew it, he had arrived at his usual pitstop. Gary greeted him warmly, pulling his attention away from the TV he had mounted on the wall of his van. "Afternoon, Detective. Didn't bring your scary friend with you today?" 

Any modicum of a good mood he had gained during his walk vanished immediately. He was beginning to develop an impassioned hatred for that particular word. 

"Not my friend. Work partner," he said, promptly changing the subject. "I'll have the usual, but can you throw in a XL soda? And a packet of Twizzlers. I need the sugar."

"Coming right up" Gary turned away to prepare the order as Gavin idled in place, curiously watching the horse race being broadcasted on the large plasma screen. 

"Nice TV. Where'd you get it?"

The other man beamed at the question, puffing out his chest. "Won big on the last race. £4k win on a £40 bet,." He leant over his shoulder, flashing Gavin a sly wink. "Probably shouldn't tell a cop this...but I've got a guy. Sixth sense for winners if you know what I mean. You want in?" 

Gavin propped an elbow onto the counter, resting his head in his hand. "Can't be taking chances. I'm broke enough as it is. 'Bout to be a lot more broke. My cat is having babies." 

"Ouch", The vendor flipped up a burger from the greasy stove, dropping it haphazardly into a bun. "Just wait until you start having actual babies. That shit is really expensive." 

"Don't think I'm in much danger of that, but thanks." 

"Hey, don't worry about it. Good-looking guy with a steady job? I'm sure you'll find a lady eventually."

Paying for his food, Gavin exhausted the mental checklist of all the possible things he could say. Some responses were harsh and scathing, others intended to confuse and mystify.

"That'd be a first", he muttered vaguely, not feeling up to the argument. 

As Gary slid him his tray, he briskly snatched it up and left to find a table. He hadn't been walking for long when he felt his legs starting to buckle. Physical exhaustion had gotten the better of him as he began to tip backwards, head spinning. A pair of hands shot out to support him, holding him steady by the armpits.

"Whoa there, you okay?" 

The gruff voice was all-too-familiar, and Gavin felt himself wither in annoyance. Just what he needed. Hank-fucking-Anderson and his plastic golden child. When he turned, however, he was surprised to see that the Lieutenant was standing alone. 

"Jeez, Reed." He whistled, giving Gavin a similar look to the one Tina had bestowed earlier. "Party a little too hard last night?"

I wish.

"I'm fine. Let me go."

"Sure you are", Hank drawled, subtly shaking his head. "I couldn't help but overhear that you've got pet troubles? Glad I got Sumo fixed when I did. No chance of any whoopsies with his lucky lady friends." 

"Do you make a habit of listening in on other people's conversations?" Gavin pulled himself away, smoothing out his jacket. "Didn't realise you were so nosy. Thought that was Connor's department." 

"Hey, I was sittin' 10 feet away from you. There wasn't much I could do about that," Hank gestured to the empty seat at the end of his table. "Now, pull up a chair before you pass out. Because I'm not doing mouth-to-mouth if you croak." 

"Good. I'd rather you leave me to die", Gavin said, nose wrinkled with disgust. With seldom energy to continue standing, much less walk to another table, He reluctantly took the seat. Hank mirrored the action, sitting down opposite him to continue his lunch. 

"If I'd known it would cause me this much grief, I would have had the bitch spayed" Gavin shoved a handful of fries into his mouth as he muttered quiet complaints, "She's an indoor cat from now until forever." 

"Kinda played yourself there, didn't ya? I'm sure Nines would be willing to help if you asked. He's pretty good with animals ."

Gavin let out a grunt of displeasure, almost choking as he did. "Is there some fucking conspiracy here that I don't know about? I already told it myself: 'No'. I don't need to be taken care of. I'm managing just fine." 

"Yeah, you seem to be thriving. Seriously though, you're refusing his help because...?" 

"Because it's a smug, insufferable asshole."

"Huh", Hank said, mouth agape. "Funny. Connor seemed to think you two were turning a corner." 

"Connor thought wrong", he snapped back. "Where is he anyway? You usually keep him on a pretty short leash."

"Hey, watch it", the older man warned. "The kid can go wherever he wants. I don't own him." 

"Could've fooled me." Gavin grimaced before shoving more food in his mouth. "So what, he and Nines have mother's meetings about what a dick I am?"  

"Cool it, Reed. I promise that Nines only ever has good things to say about you." 

"Bullshit."

Hank chuckled under his breath, stirring the ice in his now-finished drink. "Well, yeah, at first, it weren't exactly glowing praise. He thought you were a complete jackass. Over time, though, it changed." 

Gavin piqued up at this, "What do you mean 'changed'?"

"Ehh, he's found it difficult - the whole deviancy thing. Connor and I have tried to help, but it's hard to get through... with you, it's different. He seems different. Almost like he finds you comforting'."

"What about me could it possibly find comforting?" 

"Hell if I know", Hank grumbled back, frowning in disapproval. "I just think he feels like you 'get it' more than we do. Sure, we've been through it, but sometimes it's nice to meet someone who's in the same place. Helps build a connection." 

Pausing mid-chew, Gavin's attention snapped to Hank as his mind began to race. He should have known the damn machine wouldn't be able to keep its mouth shut. About his dad, his home life, his shitty family - "How much has it said about me?"

"There it is again", the Lieutenant sighed, leaning back in his chair. "He hasn't said anything , at least not to me. I just figured there's gotta be something to account for that charming personality of yours."   

"Mind your own business, Grandpa."

"Or you're just a prick. What do I know?" 

There was a moment of silence as Gavin processed what the other had just said. Did Nines really think that the two of them shared some weird, fucked-up connection?

No, of course not. Anderson had gone soft and was starting to project emotions onto machines. That was all - the naive bastard. 

"So what about Connor then?" Gavin pressed, leaning forward on his chair. "What have they been talking about?"

"They don't talk so much as they do that interface thing. Their minds connect, and they communicate through feelings and memories. It's sort of beautiful, in a weird sci-fi way."

"Well, if they could keep me out of their demented mild melds, that would be great. Thanks."

"Okay, I think I've reached my Reed limit for the day", The Lieutenant stood up with a sigh, dusting the crumbs off his slacks, "I'm done, and it looks like you are too. Wanna lift back to the station?" 

Gavin looked down at his tray, horrified (and somewhat impressed) to see that he had, in fact, cleared his meal in the few minutes they had been talking. Save for the Twizzlers and a few sips of soda. Pocketing the candy, he stood up, stretching his back. "Yeah, sure. Lead the way." 

As the two re-entered the station, the first thing that caught Gavin's eye was a pair of near-identical androids standing by his desk. Their hands were pressed palm-to-palm, and the skin retracted. They stared at each other, saying nothing, but their LEDs lit up in a frenzied light show. Eventually, one of their heads turned and caught a glimpse of the human officers standing at the doorway. 

Connor was the one who had spotted them, as well as being the first to move his hand. He smiled warmly at Hank and Gavin - but with a particular focus on the latter. "Detective Reed", he said smoothly, striding towards him with an apparent purpose. "I was wondering if we could have a word."

Nines appeared horrified at the sudden development, its LED shifting to red as it followed quickly behind. "RK800, that won't be necessary." 

"It will only take a moment."

"Connor", Hank said firmly, narrowing his eyes at his partner. "What the hell are you doing?"

The android appeared a little put out by the sudden address, ceasing his advance on Gavin as his confident smile began to drop. "Nothing, I was just seeing if I may be of assistance to -"

Hank held up a hand, cutting him off. "I think it's probably best if we leave Gavin and Nines to it. Don'tcha agree?"

Connor paused, his cheeks tinged blue with embarrassment. He shuffled on the balls of his feet for a while, appearing conflicted, before slowly nodding his head "Okay, Hank."

As quickly as the bizarre interaction had commenced, it had ended. Connor, guided by Hank, quietly shuffled off to his desk, and the tension left in their wake was almost suffocating. 

Gavin gawked at his partner, waiting for it to speak. "What the hell was that all about?"

"It's not important," Nines said back quickly, although the vibrant crimson that illuminated its temple told a different story. "RK800 worries for me. Unnecessarily."

"And what would he need to be worried about?" 

"As I said, it's not important."

Gavin grumbled, quickly losing patience and interest. "Whatever. I've started on the numbers on that list we got from CyberLife, but nothing promising yet. Sure would help if I had a supercomputer who could make the calls for me." 

"I see, of course." The tone was cold and overly formal, even by the android's usual standards. Its movements were stiff as if concealing some hidden shame or disappointment. Stirring something unpleasant within Gavin, he felt the resolve he had been trying to maintain slowly melt away. 

"...Look, I've been thinking -" 

Apparently, he was the naive bastard.

 "- about your offer to look after Tiff. I could use the sleep, so if you wanted to help out a bit, I guess that would be okay." 

Nines looked entirely floored by this. Its usually steely eyes blown to almost comedic proportions "Detective?"

"I'm saying you can stay the night. Asshole." 

#dbh #reed900 #dbh fanfiction #dbh gavin #dbh nines #dbh fanfic #dbh rk900 #detroit become human #gavin reed x rk900 #gavin900 #g9 #dbh fic #gavin x rk900 #dbh gavin reed

[dyk3medown]

sober

eddie munson x reader

summary: song fic based on “Sober Haha Jk Unless” by Hospital Bracelet

warnings: gn!reader, ANGST, TW!! heavy drug use, implied addiction, some suicidal ideation and an attempt, this is pretty heavy i won’t lie, hopeful ending, a touch of dark humor

a/n: this song is in a very specific playlist that i made of songs that make me cry. i was listening to it at 2 am and just started writing until this fic was done so i apologize if it's a bit rough around the edges. this is definitely a departure from the smut i’ve been posting lmao

!!if you are on the taglist for eddie but don’t want to be tagged in something like this in the future, pls let me know. i don’t think i’ll be writing another fic like this anytime soon but just in case!!

I’ve been thinking about it every hour

You’ve fallen into a cycle recently, one that you’re not sure you can break out of. You wake up, pop a few pills, barely make it through the school day, go home, cry, pop a couple more to dull it all out, fall asleep, and repeat.

Lights are off, and it’s harder to do without power 

The lights are never on in your room. If they were, you’d be able to see yourself in the mirror, and that’s something you just can’t do. You know you don’t look good, you can tell from how the people around you react, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

My feet are broken, knees are loose, and I end up on the ground

It all spirals out of control the day Eddie cuts you off. He meets you in your usual spot, signature toolbox in hand and a frown on his face.

“You ran out already? I just gave you some last week.”

It’s only been a few days, and your stash is all but depleted. “Whatever, are you gonna give it to me or not?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t know if I should, Y/N.”

Panic rises in your body. “C’mon Eds, it’s no big deal.” You hold out a fistful of cash with a trembling hand. “I’ll pay you double, whatever you want.”

“You don’t pay me at all usually, and I’m sorry, I can’t help you if I wanted to. You’ve cleaned me out of all the good shit.”

A pained whine escapes your chest, and you’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so focused on getting your fix. “Please, Eddie, I know you have to have something!”

Eddie opens his toolbox, and you can see he’s not lying. All that’s left is some weed, and that’s not the high you’re looking for. “That’s not all you have. You’re lying, you’re just lying to me!”

“Y/N,” Eddie approaches you carefully, like you’re a wild animal, trying his best not to spook you. “Are you okay?”

He puts a hand on the side of your face as he looks you over, taking in the dark circles under your eyes, the way your skin has gone dull and the skin on your lips is dry and cracked. Once upon a time, maybe even a few weeks ago, you would’ve leaned into his touch, perhaps even taken it further.

“Don’t fucking touch me, you freak,” you slap his hand away, ignoring the genuine hurt you can see in his expression.

“Sorry, I don’t wanna be your little fucktoy right now," you spit. "You can get it somewhere else.”

Eddie’s gaze hardens, and he steps back, grabbing the box and slamming it shut. “I’m not selling you shit anymore. Call me when you’ve figured out whatever the fuck is going on with you right now.”

He storms off, and your heart sinks into your stomach, matching the way you sink to the ground, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes as you try desperately not to cry.

I don’t really know if I wanna overdose

You strike gold when you get home, rifling through your parents’ bathroom. Your mom had had a few surgeries in the past, and you knew they must have prescribed her some sort of pain medication. To your muted delight, you find plenty of mostly-full bottles, the sound of the pills rattling in their containers sounding like music to your ears.

The first time you almost overdose, it’s an accident. Turns out, mixing a bottle of vodka with prescription-grade opiates isn’t a great idea, and you wake up in a puddle of your own puke. You clean yourself up and rinse your mouth in the sink, wondering the whole time, what if?

The second time is not an accident.

You walk into your shift at Family Video to find out you’ve been fired. Apparently, not showing up for work most of the time and being out of it when you are there doesn’t make you a model employee. Robin follows you after you walk out, trying to talk to you, but you brush her off, and she gives up as you shut your car door in her face.

Robin is yet another one of the friends you’ve pushed away and now lost. First, it was your usual crowd, then Eddie, and now the girl you thought of like a sister.

You consider the bottle in your palm as you sit on your bed that night. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad if you took just one too many of the pills that sat so enticingly in your grasp. Your friends were clearly over you, your kind-of boyfriend/hookup/dealer didn’t want to see you again, and your parents had never given a shit anyway. There was no one keeping you here but you. You’re sick and tired of life anyway, which was the whole reason you started using so often in the first place, and you come to a decision. At least with everyone you love gone from your life, there’s no need to write one of those cheesy notes.

You’re almost in a trance as you unscrew the cap, dumping the remnants of the bottle, about a fourth, in your palm. Swallow mechanically, you start choking the pills down in groups of a few at a time. You lay back, head resting on your pillow as the effects begin to kick in.

A small smile crosses your lips as you fold your arms over your chest like a corpse in a coffin. You find it unreasonably funny to think of someone finding you like that, in the classic position of the dead.

When you wake up in the morning, feeling extraordinarily sluggish but still alive, you’re filled with the strongest emotions you’ve felt in a while: despair, embarrassment, and deep disappointment. Angry tears stream down your cheeks as sobs wrack your chest, ugly crying in a way you can’t remember doing since you were a child screaming about a broken bone.

Maybe I’m just constantly scared of being on my own

The next couple of weeks are spent locked in your room, skipping school and leaving only to grab a bit of food in the dead of night. You’ve never felt so isolated, so wholly and utterly alone. As much as it pains you to admit it, you miss your friends, you miss Eddie.

In periods where you have coherent enough thought, you find yourself longing for him. Not just the sex or smoking together, but the little things. The way his eyes light up when a song he likes plays on the radio, how he would always go out of his way to make you laugh, the sappy look on his face when you kissed him for the first time. He was one of the best things in your life, and you had to go and fuck it up just like everything else.

A head without the thoughts, I think that’s what I need

You’re mindful of your dwindling supply of the only thing keeping you going. The number of little capsules is slowly and surely ticking down in the last bottle, and you know that if you keep it up at the rate you have been, you’re going to need a refill soon. There’s maybe a week left, maybe a couple extra days if you really stretch it out, but you know you can’t bear to be able to think for long enough periods to make it last.

You weigh your options. If you take them all in one go, the supply issue will cease to exist, but on the other hand, if by some miracle you wake up again, you’ll be fresh out of pills and will need to find another way to restock.

Maybe I’m just too messed up to succeed

It’s kind of funny, you think. You used to be so bright and “promising,” as adults would say when you were small, and now here you were, high out of your mind on the floor with no prospects in life.

You’re broken from your thoughts by a loud knock at your front door. Home alone, you’re sure that without anyone answering, whoever is there will just leave.

“Y/N!” You can hear a muffled call of your name, and your heart jumps up in your throat. You cautiously make your way out of your room as the voice calls your name again, feeling like you're moving through water.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there.” You peer through the peephole and can see Eddie standing there, nervously tapping his foot with his arms crossed.

His head falls forward with a sigh, and he braces both arms against the door, forehead pressing against the wood between them. “Please, just let me in.”

You back away a few steps, trying to put some more separation between you and Eddie as you contemplate your decision. You could easily turn tail and return to your room, retreating back into the dark to think about whether or not to risk finishing off the last handful of pills. That option sounds very tempting, but you force yourself to consider the alternative.

You could also open the door, let Eddie inside, and finally see the person you’ve been craving more than any drug, maybe even think about asking for a little bit of help. God, you don’t even know what to say to him. How could you ever explain the tornado that’s ripped through your life and settled in your chest, slowly chipping away at what’s left of your heart? Your head is swimming and it's not just from your high.

“I’m not leaving until you open the door.” Eddie’s voice rings out in the silence once again. “I’ll wait here all night, fuck, I’ll stay out here forever if that’s what it takes.”

You inhale deeply, walking back to the door. Your hand hovers over the lock, fingers just grazing the cool metal. You exhale as you unlock it, eyes closing as you turn the little lever and reach for the handle.

After a few more moments of hesitation, you open the door, and you finally let Eddie inside.

taglist: @greengarsstuff @3ternalreal1ty @eichenhouseproperty @lizzieaurum @themonsterisapineapple @mayvinnie @nobody-stop-me @rues-deaddreams @matildavol6

click here to join the taglist

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #stranger things imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader #tw sui attempt #tw sui ideation

[rosedavid]

fic rec friday

Original rules: Share your top fics no matter how big or small - give us the links to your wonderful words with the Most hits/Most kudos/Most comments/Most bookmarks /Most words/Least words

I’m also doing @stereopticons’s addition to add and share your fics with the least hits/kudos/comments/bookmarks to give them some love!

Thanks for the tags @stereopticons @three-drink-amy @jesuisici33! I decided to only do this with the fics posted under my rosedavid username on ao3. 

Most hits

(Schitt’s Creek) From Humble Beginnings (david/patrick, T) - A series of texts documenting David and Patrick's growing relationship. Follows through season 4.

Least hits

(Schitt’s Creek) you make everything good (alexis/twyla, G) - “Stop being grumpy, it’s lame."Twyla has to go and visit her gaggle of cousins for two weeks, and Alexis is pouty about her girlfriend leaving for so long.

Most kudos

(Schitt’s Creek) From Humble Beginnings again lol. These are actually like all the same over and over, so I’m gonna do the runners up if they’re repeats. 

Runner-up: (9-1-1: Lone Star) Struck Down (carlos/tk, T) - The upside to getting punched so hard he got knocked on his ass is that TK gets to come home early to Carlos. But there’s also a downside: He has to come home early to Carlos....A 4x15 missing scene

Least kudos

Runner-up: (Schitt’s Creek) tender love and care (alexis/twyla, G) - When Twyla is sick, it's Alexis's turn to take care of her girlfriend.

Most comments

Runner-up: (Schitt’s Creek) Undertow (david/patrick, T) - Patrick Brewer, a lifeguard looking only toward the future, moves to Schitt’s Creek to take a job at their new aquatic center. Meanwhile, Rose Apothecary is struggling to stay afloat, and David Rose will do almost anything to keep it alive a bit longer, even if that involves spending time each week among splashing, screaming children. 

~ ~ ~

A story about the journey of healing and finding solace in others as much as in oneself.

Least comments

(Schitt’s Creek) Runner-up: How I Missed You (david/patrick, T) - Patrick buys something that reminds him of David when Patrick's gone for a week, and David takes notice.

Most bookmarks

(9-1-1: Lone Star) Carlos’s Greatest Lizardventure (carlos/tk, T) - 5 times Carlos puts up with Lou (+1 time he takes comfort in him)

Least bookmarks

Runner-up (Schitt’s Creek) Conference Companions (patrick & ronnie & ray) - After a tedious morning of driving, Ronnie arrives at the hotel. She steps through the automatic doors into the lobby and heads toward the check-in counter, ready to fully enjoy her long weekend. That’s when she sees them. She slides her sunglasses down her nose to be sure her mind isn’t playing tricks on her. “Oh fuck no."

. . .OR

Ronnie's conference plans are promptly derailed when she discovers Ray and Patrick are there, too. 

Most words

Undertow of course, but runner-up: (Schitt’s Creek) Spirit of the Season (david/patrick, T) - Patrick just got a big promotion at work. With the holidays fast approaching, he has no time to shop for presents for his big, extended family. Enter personal shopper David, whose style is impeccable but so different from Patrick's own. David works tirelessly to find thoughtful gifts for everyone in Patrick's family, and soon, Patrick finds himself wondering if David is the one thing he's been missing all along.

Least words 

(9-1-1: Lone Star) when i first laid my eyes on you (carlos/tk, G) - “You’re such a liar. You couldn’t get out of there fast enough.”“Why do you think I ran?”

or

A 4x16 coda

Tagging: @alienajackson @jettestar @petalwritesx @reyesstrand @catanisspicy @carlos-in-glasses @bonheur-cafe and anyone else who wants to share their lovely fics!!

#schitts creek #911 ls #tag games #tagged #oof that took a while to do lol

[chilly-out-here]

an attempt

let's see if this works! hopefully by not tagging this it doesn't get recommended to anyone since. I feel like it reads as fucking insane without context (honestly even with context). but just in case if you're not reading the fic and somehow still ended up here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52369693/chapters/132478987

and before I say anything I’d like to first shout out this tumblr post for letting me link this in the chapter notes in the first place bc I Would Not Have figured it out myself:  https://www.tumblr.com/gentrychild/653404474056081408/ao3-how-to-insert-imageslinks-into-the-notes-of# 

so!! Milgram The Musical!! there’s a couple key parts to how I imagine the tech for this thing to work. I don’t know all the details for the format of the show (frankly it doesn’t matter a ton lol), but I’m imagining it to be like. for each prisoner, there’s interrogation (basically like their VDs, except on stage), then blackout for quick scene transition, and then they sing their song. then blackout and they move on to the next prisoner and rinse and repeat. except for 010 who Causes Problems, which would be the climax of the musical and leads into the theoretical resolution.

so yea! I figure there’s probably 12 songs? one for each prisoner, plus two group numbers at the beginning and end (Undercover ft. the prisoners singing their parts, plus an unspecified ending song lol). there’s only one trial bc that would be PLENTY enough content for a musical already, so the songs are probably some fusion of the t1 and t2 (and t3 when that comes out?) songs. idk the specifics of that don’t really matter. also just, note, none of the prisoners have names in the show bc even I have my limits lmao. so if I’m talking about the characters in the musical I refer to them by their number, if I’m talking about the characters in the fic they get their names.

but anyway the important thing is! I think the main tech objective for the show is to make sure the visuals and sound of every prisoner’s song feels distinct, both from the other songs and from the interrogation scenes. the secondary objective is that the songs should feel kinda surreal; they take place in the prisoner’s minds, so they should be very separate from “reality” (in quotes bc what even is Milgram). so most of my planning was done with that in mind :)

DECK:

okay. so! most of the show’s tech is probably lighting/projection-based to accomplish all the different tones and aesthetic shifts, but there are some fun little things with the deck too, not least of which being the y’know!! rotating disc!! à la Les Mis or Hamilton. I think it’d at least be super cool for Undercover and 010’s song (which has some Deep Cover stuff fs), and definitely in other places too because the songs are all kinda wild lol. I found this tutorial and, in my humble opinion, Kazui and Hinako are indeed insane enough as directors to want this, and Kotoko and Kazui are indeed insane enough to build this: http://theaterdad.blogspot.com/2011/06/how-to-make-revolving-stage.html?m=1 

in terms of physical set pieces, there’s of course the interrogation table and chairs, which comes on for every interrogation and comes off after every “sing your sins.” there’s also the Warden’s chair (whatever the fuck Es is sitting on at the beginning of Undercover), and maybe some bonus pieces for the prisoners’ songs? like possibly school desks for 004, hospital bed for 005, round table for 010, that sort of stuff.

SOUND:

I don’t know a whole ton about sound, but I imagine Yuno’s trying to set it up so that the interrogation scenes feel like you’re watching two characters from the outside, and the songs feel like you’re immersed inside the character’s head (since yknow,,, that’s kinda the central conceit of the show lol). I’m envisioning that she’s gonna have the interrogation dialogue sound like it’s mostly coming from the stage (so like, the closer to the stage a speaker is, the louder it is), and the music sound like it’s kinda coming from everywhere at once (so all the speakers are similar volume). so that’s why she’s doing a ton of repatching to get the individual speaker control she wants to create that illusion. overall I think she’s just trying to have fun with the whole thing which. as she should!!

PROJECTION:

so!! like I said earlier a big goal for the tech of this show is to make everything feel distinct, and the projection would be a GIANT part of that. I’ve only worked one show with projection in it but there’s so many frickin possibilities you can do with it so,, here we go!

first of all—the INTERROGATIONS. most theaters have stage monitors (basically just security cameras pointed at the stage from the house, which can be viewed in dressing rooms so actors know where they are in the show and can keep track of their  entrances). and I think it’d be really cool to also project that in the background in real-time as the interrogation scenes are happening (probably in black and white). partly to just make those scenes a bit more visually interesting, and partly bc I think it would severely fit the aesthetic?? plus that way, except during the blackouts, the projection won’t disappear and reappear as much, which I think would look cleaner and more cohesive.

BUT still very distinct!! bc in contrast to the camera vibes in the interrogations, the songs have their own cool colorful background art and visuals and fuckinnn stock footage projected!! whatever fits the vibe lmao. I think Haruka basically Goes Off—like the designer roles were decided for the show before they went on break, so he’s been working on this for months. each song’s visuals have their own style and color palette (yknow,, like how Milgram MVs work lol).

I’m gonna go on a whole separate rant about lighting but projection-wise:

001’s visuals mostly resemble the Weakness MV—so very colorful and very much drawn with nice smooth water/bubble animations, but also plus some of the edgy writing and glitchy stuff in All Knowing and All Agony. I think Haruka does project (haha,, pun) a little bit onto 001 (wow I can’t imagine why), so the art for that song hITS. 

002’s aesthetic is probably closest to Umbilical with like. pink void, balloons, the DNA staircases (possibly Haruka’s first venture into 3D modeling? which he uses later for Undercover and stuff), and the photographs (provided by the actress), but I really like the water ripples from Tear Drop so there’s some of that in there too. 

003 is most like Bring It On with all the video game aesthetic glitchy stuff going on, except add in a bit of spray paint imagery bc I think that’s really cool. 

004 is probably mostly It’s Not My Fault? I mean BUGS,, and honey and stuff. some classroom things like in After Pain (specifically the chalkboard has some stuff on it?) and a few real-life shots, but a lot of weird bug things yknow. 

005 is mainly Throw Down for all the flower symbolism (this is where flower stock footage comes in lmao), plus elements from Triage like the hospital bed, heart monitor, and of course the many many surgery receipts. 

006 is based mostly on This Is How To Be In Love With You (magazine vibes, again photos provided by the actress), but with a bit of the angsty stuff in I Love You (the fucked up carousel is good shit). 

007. is. interesting. since half and Cat are so different it’s a little hard to picture how the combined version would work (current idea is it starts slow and ballad-y for like. a couple lines, and then launches into jazzy vibes—perhaps something a bit like Theater by natori (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x3rDLizb4sI)). but I’m imagining that 007 is a PERFORMER during his song. by that I mean when it gets jazzy he straight up walks down from the stage into the audience and has a whole Moment prancing around in the house with spotlights (aren’t we glad Fuuta set up the movers??). so my idea for the projection is that it’s mostly abstract and collage-y kinda like the instrumental break in Cat, and it does reflect the instruments (like the dancing saxophone lol), but it’s also got things like the apple, the glass, cigarettes, all the magic trick stuff, and the ring, and occasional cut-ins of irl stock photos of things like the bar. just little hints up there that are easy to miss if you’re focusing on all the Extremely Distracting actor in the audience and crazy dancing collage happening. also, color palette is probably warmer/red-er just to lean into the whole theater thing a bit more.

008!! I love the feltboard look at the end of Magic and I think that’s the main aesthetic the visuals would have, but with occasional cuts to irl photos of disturbing stuff like the taser. kinda like how Purge March does it? I almost feel like it’d be a bit like one of those analog horror things based on kids’ content, where the scary parts are 1) mostly just implied and 2) don’t last long but the juxtaposition is really jarring.

009 my beloved,, I really like the filming/camera vibes from MeMe, so the visuals probably involve a lot of that, and also the trains and glitch effects like in Double. ALSO. the MANNEQUINS. I have a mental image of Haruka sitting there debating what to do for 009, and then he looks up from his desk and sees his little pose reference mannequin and he’s like. Oh Yeah. so he takes pictures of it and photoshops it over/into some stuff, basically just turning it into like a whole mixed media art project thing (like this sort of vibe—Tatsuya Kitani MVs are frickin insane /pos: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ymtNhd_3CB8). and THEN. TAROT CARDS. after their pokémon battle Yuno lets Haruka borrow them, so he takes photos and uses them too (and uses the mannequins with them). the complicated disjointed mildly unsettling mixed media video collage aesthetic is *chef’s kiss* and I think it’d fit well with 009 and the film look.

010!! home stretch!! I don’t have much to say other than I think it mainly follows the Deep Cover vibes (bc seriously that MV is GORGEOUS), so plenty of chess piece imagery to go around. but also,,, wolves,,, more stock footage lmao. 

and fINALLY!! UNDERCOVER!! very geometric and following the general Milgram aesthetic. definitely the projection design closest to the MV it’s based on. not to spoil anything but there might be a bit more detail on it next chapter? didn’t hear that from me tho ;)

and now!! hilariously short thing to finish this section off. after each prisoner’s song, there’s a blackout for them to exit and for the deck crew to set the interrogation table up for the next scene. during that transition I think it’d be fun if there was a pre-recorded video of them answering some of their interrogation questions as a little sendoff yknow? plus that helps not completely kill the momentum after each song.

LIGHTS:

oh my god. hi. me. HI. this is my SHIT. okay. so. LIGHTS. starting with a fun little aside about LEDs and incandescents—imo incandescent stage lights are the prettiest and most natural looking, buut they’re also less versatile than LEDs (for example, you need physical gels to change the color of incandescents, but a lot of LED light fixtures can have colors changed from the lightboard). there’s pros and cons to both and there’s pros and cons to having a mixed lights grid (currently working in a place with both—I actually like it personally but it is hard to match the colors/tones a lot of the time). most of the theater world is moving towards LEDs in general (partly for convenience, partly as regulations are shifting away from incandescents) but Kazui is a stubborn mf who’s held onto an incandescent grid for THIS long and he’s gonna keep it as long he possibly can lmao. Fuuta convinced him to let him overhaul the whole thing and mix in some LEDs over the summer (mostly a bunch of moving lights), so he’s got a bit of both to work with.

for the Milgram aesthetic, unnatural white LEDs is lowkey the vibe?? I think just a couple white spotlights on the interrogation table would kinda be all they need. Fuuta is definitely getting a shit ton of use out of his movers for that since they can be pointed in good angles as needed. and for UNDERCOVER,,, oh boy he has some FUN with that one. if you program them right white movers make really good searchlight lookin things let me tell you!! I did them for a show recently and they looked AWESOME but I didn’t get to keep them in the final version (“it’s not a light show” which. fair but ok) so I’m vicariously living my mover searchlight dreams through Fuuta <3 and also, the Undercover MV has a ton of cool white spotlight type things going on?? like spotlights pointed through bars which casts cool dramatic shadows. definitely he gets to play around a lot with that :D

and then on the flip side~!! for the prisoner songs!! I think the general lighting for those is mostly done with differently-gelled incandescents, since they just look much prettier and smoother in general. I think the more natural look would also help to make the songs more immersive, especially in comparison to the interrogations—Fuuta’s definitely the type of guy to take something like a hybrid grid and really use it to his advantage to emphasize that contrast in overall feel.

each prisoner song definitely has its own lighting scheme too, which are all set up to look cohesive in conjunction with the projections in each song, so now all those are getting balanced for color and intensity so it looks like it all flows together with the visuals.

001’s general wash color is like a bluish white? so like R#051 (Surprise Pink (it looks mostly white in practice)) plus a bit of blue. not a ton of color bc the projections here are so colorful.

002’s lights are actually probably cooler tones for the most part to contrast with the pink projection. largely based on Tear Drop since the lighting there is super blue and it’s so PRETTY.

003…R#003 Dark Bastard Amber my beloved <3 (nah but fr DBA looks so good on red hair, it’s also kinda golden-ish which I think would look good with the saturated video game color tones on the projection).

for 004 like. literally all of After Pain is so Surprise Pink it’s ridiculous (plus a bit of Dark Bastard Amber for like,, yknow the murder at sunset). I like Surprise Pink for the color contrast with the green honey, might also want to test some purple?

005! I’m thinking of this one gel color that’s a really nice soft light blue, I believe it’s R#60 No Color Blue? again not too much color for the lights here since the projection will have a lot of flowers.

006 is very much a pink wash. probably Surprise Pink mixed and contrasted with a darker purple? I haven’t worked with a ton of purple but it’s a pretty versatile color and I think it could be good for the angsty I Love You type projections.

007 would start in a special light, and then when he goes into the audience that’s all a person with a followspot lol. at that point there’d only be enough light on stage to keep the projection looking natural (very low DBA wash perhaps).

008 is another Surprise Pink-based lights wash without too much color since the visuals would be pretty vibrant on their own, but much darker and bluer for the grimmer projections. I feel like purple would be nice as an undertone for her for some reason?

009 is. interesting. I could see Fuuta having to rack his brain a little for this one (since I’m racking my brain over here lol), but. if I remember correctly No Color Blue plus a tiny tiny bit of Surprise Pink can kinda make a semi-convincing white white? I think that, plus some bright RGB Color Moments in the visuals, could hopefully do the job okay.

010 HI OKAY LET ME LIGHT THIS SONG PLEASE. fuckin BACKLIGHTS DUDE the SATURATED COLORS the PINK?!? THAT is R#039 SKELTON EXOTIC SANGRIA if I’ve EVER fuckin seen it (bro just trust me, the color itself looks hella dark but when there’s light shining through it it’s so VIVID and PRETTY okay I just. yes). that mixed with some kind of really saturated indigo (part of me is even wondering about black lights??) would be so good.

COSTUMES:

okay costumes!! so!! as we have seen Mikoto’s been very busy lol. he’s not the main costume designer but he’s like. assistant costume designer and the guy in charge of Making Stuff (lead craftsperson I think it’s technically called?), which in this case are the prisoner harnesses and the Warden costumes.

costume breakdown! each prisoner has their actual clothes, plus “jumpsuit” (whichever white jacket thing they have), and a harness. everything except the harnesses seems like it could probably just be bought/sourced from somewhere (which is still, I can say from experience, A Lot Of Work lmao,, so the rest of the costume team has been similarly busy). I’ve gone back and forth about whether they should change costumes for their songs, but I think everything’s smoother if they just keep the jumpsuit. 

the exception is 010, who gets to do a quick change in the blackout before her song bc the Deep Cover drip is too good?? her harness and jumpsuit are probably attached somehow to be easy to remove at once. I’m imagining the way it works is that right at the blackout, the actress takes off the jumpsuit/harness setup, Mikoto goes on with deck crew for the scene transition with the coat, hat, and gloves (not enough time for a pants change so let’s just say she’s already wearing black pants and combat boots). he helps her get those on (let me tell you gloves are hARD in quick changes) and then he walks off with the jumpsuit/harness.

and finally the Warden! so Mikoto’s in charge of making the cape and the hat, and everything else can probably be sourced and modified as needed. someone’s probably having a lot of fun making the key necklace/props though!

well that was fun!! aren’t we glad I didn’t try to put all this in the notes?? I sure am lmao. the inherent slapdash-ness of the whole thing was kinda freeing actually and I had a blast just Saying Stuff, bc tech for Milgram The Musical has been living in my head rent-free for MONTHS and I’m glad I got to just put it all in words!! maybe I’ll do another one of these in the future if I need it lol. but anyway if you actually read to the end of this then 1) kudos <3 and 2) I hope it was at least moderately interesting, or at least enjoyable!

I don’t really know how to end this so. hope you have a nice day :D

[sunlightandsuffering]

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That's 284 more posts than 2021!

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#help i did this instead of writing bc i'm trying my best not to answer my reverse bite me asks

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

not sure if this will make the btl cut yet lol!

Mikasa awakes the next morning with a pounding headache and the smell of liquor oozing out through her pores. 

It’s disgusting.  She needs a shower, and several Advil. However, she’s not given the opportunity for either of those as Eren barges into her room, looking irritated.  “Can I have my shirt back?”  “What?” She questions blearily as she rubs her eyes, struggling to adjust to the light from her window, she needs a moment to mentally recover from waking up, it’s been difficult enough. 

“My shirt,” Eren repeats, and she finally notices he is very much shirtless, and she looks down at herself in confusion, before looking around the room and noting that this is not in fact her bedroom at all.  It’s Eren’s and this is Eren’s shirt she’s wearing.  “Oh, sorry,” she mumbles, sitting back into his fluffy pillows as she fights a yawn, she doesn’t even know how she ended up in this shirt. 

“I’ll take it off in a minute, I’m gonna get in the shower.”  She blinks up at him, pleased with her answer, taking him in as he stands in front of her, miles of bronze skin over hard muscle, clear spring green eyes. He didn’t even want to come out last night and yet from what little recollection she has he’d taken her home, held her hair as she puked her guts up over the toilet and tucked her in.  He’s so nice, and so unbelievably attractive. Sometimes there is no doubt why she’s so madly in love with Eren Yeager, who wouldn’t be? 

Then, as usual, he shatters her illusion in the blink of an eye, “Sorry, I need my shirt back right now.”  Before she can even react to the statement, cold hands find her waist under the covers, and she shrieks as he grabs at the hem of the fabric.  “Eren!”  But it’s too late, he’s already tugging it up her body and she yelps as her breasts are exposed to the chilly air, his hands making absolutely no move to avoid the perky mounds, he even gives one a little squeeze as he rather brutally tugs the fabric over her head.  “What are you doing!” She sputters angrily as he rips it from her head, her hands immediately clutching at her chest to hide her pointed buds, how embarrassing.  Eren makes absolutely no move to look away from her heaving chest as he holds his prized t-shirt in his hands, straightening it out, “Getting my shirt back.”  “I was wearing it you asshole!” 

He shrugs nonchalantly, “I needed it.”  She struggles to respond to this, unsure where this entitled asshole has come from to replace her sweet roommate. 

He admires her for a moment more, eyes raking over her disheveled form, and she struggles to hide her bountiful chest, although some part of her doesn’t want to. Not when his eyes are so hungry, the way he’d stared in such rapture at the soft milky globes. 

She’s shocked still, her breath catching as one of his hands moves to trail over the tops of her perky breasts, “Nice tits Mimi, real pretty.” 

Then he turns on his heel to leave, as if he didn’t just rock her whole fucking world and Mikasa is left to pick up the pieces. 

66 notes - Posted April 24, 2022

#4

Eren has had Mikasa for a few months at most, since he found the sweet little kitty whimpering outside his law office on a chilly December night. The beginnings of snow sprinkling the skies and a blizzard stirring in the air. It was the last day the firm was open before Christmas break, Eren the last out, ever the workaholic, he stood bundled up in his winter coat staring at the sleek black little feline.  He had no time for her, none at all, he was a lawyer at a high paying firm, he worked in Big Law, upward of sixty hours a week, he lived most of his life in the office and if he wasn’t there, he was at home doing his work from his laptop. He had not time for a pet. 

And yet, how many people had walked by the pretty little kitten before him, how many had ignored her malnourished little form, and how many more would walk by after him? 

It was a moment of weakness perhaps, one that he would come to regret later, and maybe it was because he was lonely before the Christmas holidays, no family around to celebrate with, and no more work to keep him busy, but he squats down next to the little ball of fur, the most beautiful stormy grey eyes he’s ever seen on a cat. 

He holds a hand out, makes a clicking sound with his mouth, tentatively hoping to coax her into his arms to take her home. 

It doesn’t take anymore, she comes to him willingly, jingling as she goes and he discovers she has a collar, black, blending right in with her fur. The tag just says ‘Mikasa’, there is no owner information, no if lost return to address, just a name and he hums as he scoops up the little thing. 

Mikasa, what an elegant name for a cat he thinks as he heads towards his car, tucking the surprisingly docile kitten into his coat.  “Mikasa,” he hums, “I like it, maybe I’ll call you Miki for short huh?”  He looks down at her, hands scratching behind her ears as he picks up his briefcase, “You want to spend Christmas with me Mikasa?”  Surprisingly, the cat seems to nod back and Eren assumes it’s his imagination, but regardless, at least he won’t be alone for Christmas. 

Eren finds out the hard way, with Mikasa around, he’s never alone. 

They spend Christmas together and he falls in love with his cat, he’s never cared so much for another living being in his life. He didn’t realize how much he missed companionship, having a creature love you back, until he got his beloved little cat.  She cuddles with him when he watches movies, bumps her nose at his laptop when he spends too long working, whines when she desires his attention and sleeps cuddled into his back on his bed.  Eren truly loves his cat, and he pampers her endlessly. Whereas usually he spends Christmas sympathizing with the grinch, this year he goes to the pet store and buys about a million cat toys for his feline. Cat nip, a cat tree, one of those little laser pointers for her to chase. He loves his cat.  But everything comes to an end and work begins again, so he has to start leaving his beloved cat home more often.  The first day back to work is the hardest, she whines at the door as he tries to leave with his brief case and he squats down, frowning, “I’m sorry Miki, okay, I’ll be home around six, I promise.” 

He scratches behind her ears and she wilts, but relents nonetheless, stopping her whines and allowing him to leave.  She’s left with free reign of the house and the automatic feeder, and he feels awful every moment he’s at work. 

Mikasa of course feeds into this when he gets home, she’s clingier than ever, won’t leave his side even for dinner, and she whines outside the bathroom door when he tries to take a shower. 

He’s strongly considering working from home more often.  He makes it a few weeks, and their routine becomes more normalized, although he still hates it. 

He speaks to his manager, Erwin, also a cat owner, and he’s more than happy to help him out, allowing Eren Tuesdays and Wednesdays to work from home if he needs. Eren has always been a good employee, and this pays off.  He leaves that same Wednesday morning, practically beaming as he treks up the stairs of his apartment, it’s a beautiful day too, maybe he’ll take Mikasa out on her cat-harness for a walk. It’s been a while since she got out. He knows she loves to explore the park. 

He unlocks his apartment door, eagerly awaiting the image of his little ball of fur, she’ll probably come running when she realizes it’s him and not the amazon delivery guy. 

However, Eren doesn’t find a cat at all, instead he finds a mostly naked, very beautiful woman in his kitchen cooking bacon, wiggling her hips as she listens to upbeat pop.  He drops his briefcase to the ground with a thunk, and the woman yelps as she turns around, pausing the music as the lock eyes. 

“Oh my god, Eren!” 

Her voice is beautiful, sweet and melodic, she sounds immensely apologetic, quick to turn off the stove and come around the kitchen island, she’s wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts, the one Mikasa favours. 

She’s the most stunning being he’s ever seen, long sleek dark hair that falls past her shoulders in silky strands, tucked behind her ears, milky thighs exposed and long slender legs, eye’s the colour of tropical storms. 

She’s ethereal.  And she speaks like she knows him, her mouth opening and closing, but he can barely hear her, his mind at a standstill as he tries to comprehend why there is a beautiful woman in his apartment and no cat.  “Eren!” Finally, she startles him out of his trance and his freakout begins, where is his cat.  He looks around frantically, ignoring the woman for the moment, searching for his beloved black little ball of fur, “Mikasa? Miki where are you?”  He clicks his tongue as he looks around the kitchen island, he can’t deal with this right now, his brain says no.  “Eren, please stop your cat isn’t here.”  He whips his head around to look at her, his hackles rising, true indiscriminate rage roiling in his stomach, “What did you to with my cat?”  His words are quiet, but they are cutting, barely restrained with rage.  The woman just groans, “Eren! Look at me,” she gestures to herself up and down and Eren fights to keep his gaze to appropriate places.  “Lady I don’t care about you, where is my cat!?”  “I am your cat, stupid!” She finally bursts and it takes him a moment to compute.  “What?”  “I am your cat,” she repeats, much calmer, “I’m a cat hybrid, I can switch at will, here do you want to see?”  He nods numbly.  She sighs, but does so anyway, switching forms at will, right in front of his eyes, the beautiful woman shifts back into his cat and Eren is flabbergasted.  “Oh my god.” 

There she is, his beloved cat, all 7 or 8 pounds of her, the same sleek fur and beautiful eyes left under his now very oversized shirt. Eren doesn’t know what to do when confronted with the information that his cat is not just in fact a cat.  She darts behind the couch, before she changes back and a pretty face pops up from behind the cushions, delicate shoulders bare and that beautiful voice again as she speaks, “Don’t freak out!” 

“It’s too late, I’m already freaking out Mikasa! Or is that even your real name!?” 

Her face crumples at his question and he almost feels bad, but then he remembers he’s been taking care of this cat for over a month now, and only now just finding out she’s actually part human.  “Is this all some elaborate scam? Are you going to con me?”  “Eren no,” she soothes, defeated, “Just hand me my shirt and we’ll talk okay, I promise I’ll tell you everything.”  “You mean MY shirt.”  She winces, but Eren throws it to her anyway and she disappears back behind the couch to shrug it over her shoulders.  She sits him down on the couch while she takes the coffee table, glaring at her as she tries to explain herself.  “My name is Mikasa, I’m a cat hybrid. This isn’t some elaborate con to steal from you, I promise. I’m from a long line of hybrids, and unfortunately, we’re often hunted down because of course, nothing is more interesting to humans than supernatural creatures.” He continues to glare, though he softens just slightly, but he can’t give her anything! No sympathy!! She’s been lying to him! “We used to live in the mountains, but most of my family has been hunted or killed. My older cousin barely got me out and well here I am. I just—” she sniffles a little as she talks about it, tearing up.  “I’ve been hunted and burned so many times Eren, I don’t show people my human side anymore, I prefer being a cat. If people found out, especially since I’m a female, they’d take me, I know I’d be sold off. I rarely transform anymore, but I know you work often, and I thought maybe it was okay if I just stretched my limbs a little. I haven’t been human in so long, I haven’t danced. I just missed it.”  She takes a deep breath before looking up at him mournfully, “But I’m sorry, if you let me stay, I promise it won’t happen again I’ll just be your cat.” 

Eren groans, dropping his head to his hands, of course she has to have a reasonable explanation, fucking of course. 

She looks so intensely sad, in front of him, this poor girl whose probably been through hell, all alone, all by herself. 

He can’t very well be mad at her for that.  “It’s okay.”  She looks at him like he’s hung the moon and the stars, and he continues, “You can stay.”  “Oh Eren really?” She throws herself at him and he groans at her weight, both because he wasn’t expecting it and because his cat is definitely all woman, he can feel it in her every curve as she smushes her chest against his, covering his face with cheek kisses. 

“Thank you so much!” 

He sighs as he allows himself to awkwardly pat her back, “Of course. And you don’t have to be a cat all the time, I don’t care. I can afford a roommate, just umm,” he pulls back slightly to look at her, trying to avoid the creamy expanse of her legs, “Maybe cover up a bit.”  “Oh of course I will right away!” 

She’s already running off to his bedroom to steal more clothes and Eren drops his head back to the couch, exhaling a long breath.  He’d thought he was getting a cat, not a hot female roommate, he really hopes his work doesn’t suffer. 

Mikasa is amazing, she’s everything he didn’t know he needed and more. She cooks, she cleans, she steals his clothes and forces him to stop working when he does too much, and best of all, she’s a living breathing human to spend time with.  She has a personality, and she loves romantic comedies and cheesy love-stories like titanic, and she makes him watch it with her frequently. She’s sweet and soft-spoken, a little mischievous when she wants to be, but mostly she just seems to love him. She’s always worrying after his health, and doing his laundry, getting mad at him when he orders too much fast food. 

She’s his everything, everything he’s ever wants in a woman and more. Except he can’t tell her that, because that would be weird, and like he wants something more from her, something overtly more sexual, which he would never try. 

He doesn’t want to try and take advantage of her like humans past, so he spoils her rotten with gifts and luxury sushi on the way home from work, and buying her all the expensive clothes she wants. 

See the full post

77 notes - Posted April 19, 2022

#3

Happy belated birthday Eren, I love u and I know ur dick is big 🤧

“Mikasa what are you doing?” Eren asks, he’d gone to the shower thinking maybe she’d follow him, especially after that. But no, she’s just lying on his bed in exactly the same position he’d left her in.

He finishes wrapping his towel around his waist, wandering closer to the bed in concern, “Mika, baby are you good?” She nods a little, pupils blown wide, just staring up at the ceiling fan. “Okay, you’re not convincing me,” he grabs her chin, forcing her to look at him and her eyes focus a little. “Good?” He questions again and a silly grin splits her face, “Yeah, that was, that was really good ‘Ren.”

He chokes out a laugh, “You’re ridiculous, c’mon let’s shower.” He turns again, heading back towards the bathroom where the water is still running. He glances back only to find her still in exactly the same place. “Mikasa, c’mon,” he demands, what is she doing?

“Eren I can’t move.”

“Oh my god, you’re so dramatic.” “No really, my legs are still shaking a little, I don’t think I can get up.”

“Seriously?” he whispers to himself, striding back to the bed and sure enough she’s still jittering a little.

Well, damn cross that off his own imaginary list, make Mikasa orgasm so hard she can’t move, hell yes.

“C’mere,” he reaches down and hauls her into his arms, his towel coming loose slightly.

Mikasa nestles herself into his shoulder, sleek black hair messy from the bed and getting in his face but he doesn’t mind at all as he grips smooth thighs and a strong back.

This is gonna be fun, so, so fun.

80 notes - Posted March 31, 2022

#2

Mummykasa!!

8.1 K

This is mostly fluff lol bc I didn't really have a plot for it 😂😂 so it's just mummykasa and stoner/tomb raider Eren being cute and having unneccessary sexual tension. Some of this will seem familiar bc I cut together the stuff i'd previously written and added some other stuff so I apologize if it's a bit of a mess. But the sex is definitely new lol!!

When Mikasa wakes up for the first time in several hundred years she expects a lot of things. Maybe to be met by the gods, the great Osiris. She’s not entirely sure what she’d hoped for if she’d really truly believed in the immortality their lore promised, but it was all she’d ever known so the expectation that she would live well after death was not unfounded. Her soul would be immortalized for eternity, and she’d live out the rest of her days in peace.

She’d assumed she’d wake up to some sort of great glow, maybe golden riches beyond her imagination, all the food one could eat, wine to fill her belly.

What she doesn’t expect is to open her eyes several hundred years later to a bright light blinding her forcing her to let out a little yelp which is followed very promptly by a scream that’s not her own.

She rubs her eyes, tears leaking from them as she adjusts to the now darkness, looking over to find a boy about her age laying on the floor next to her golden casket, next to some sort of light bringing contraption. “Are you Osiris?” She asks brazenly, surely this could not be the great god, although he looks to be attractive for sure, his countenance is not one of a god. He could barely pass for royalty, so what is he doing in the chambers of a princess?

“What the fuck?” Is all the boy says and Mikasa struggles to grasp his language, what is he saying? His accent is strange.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my chambers? How dare you trespass?” She asks authoritatively, for she is princess Mikasa, daughter of a great Pharaoh. She is not to be trifled with, her tomb is filled with riches, built in a pyramid all it’s own, she’d been assured by her father her grave would not be robbed before she awoke to the afterlife, so who is this man? “Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have come down here after smoking, I’m losing my mind.” The boy is muttering to himself now and Mikasa’s fears worsen, just what is happening. “Commoner who are you I demand to know!”

The boy gets up and dusts himself off, grabbing his strange light contraption.

“I’m Eren and I’m robbing your tomb. Cool?”

He says and then promptly ignores her, going back to what he was doing before, rifling through the pots next to her casket. Mikasa awkwardly sits up, realizing she is wearing little more than disintegrating white rags, moves to cover herself with her hands.

“You should not rob me commoner, or my father’s wrath will be upon you.”

He quirks an eyebrow at her, “Yeah, yeah it’s the 2000s pretty girl, I don’t think your daddy is coming to save you.”

2000’s what ever does he mean by that?

“Is my father no longer alive, has he been buried as well?” She asks curiously, he sounds like this day and age is far from her own. “Yeah, I mean I’m pretty sure I must be hallucinating you anyway, but your family is long dead, I don’t even know why I’m down here, I’m an art thief, not an artifact thief but I needed some quick cash so I visited a minor pyramid, figured no one would notice if some of your stuff was gone.” Mikasa is appalled.

He is so blatantly stealing from her, his hands should be cut off for such a crime.

“Commoner your hands will be cut for your thievery,” she declares rather righteously. She probably shouldn’t be threatening him, but she doesn’t know what else to do, she needs her riches for the afterlife.

The pretty boy continues to ignore her, shouting a quiet “Aha!” as he comes across her gold bracelet inlaid with precious stones.

“This will work, I bet it’ll fetch a pretty penny before Levi can fence me my money from last job.” At this assertion Mikasa finally works up the courage to remove herself from her casket, although it’s a difficult job on such wobbly legs and if it weren’t for the thief in front of her she’d drop like stones.

“Woah there pretty girl,” the boy holds her up, her legs jelly and she’s forced to hold his arm for balance.

As soon as she feels strong enough she removes herself from him, she is wearing little clothing and this man is not her husband, she doesn’t feel comfortable baring herself.

“Wait, are you actually real?” The boy asks, following her out of his grasp and poking her cheek. “Yes! I am Mikasa, daughter of a great pharaoh and a princess, I am here in the afterlife to complete my journey of immortality.”

“Fuck.” The boy repeats the strange word again, bringing his hand up to his face and massaging his temples.

“Okay, I guess were doing this because I’m not just going to hand you over to the archeological society, god knows what those old bastards will do with you. I’m Eren, Eren Yeager.” “Eren Yeager,” she tests the words on her lips and finds she doesn’t hate the name.

“Eren, you can just call me Eren.”

“I am Mikasa.” She repeats and Eren nods condescendingly, “Yes I know pretty girl, you just told me that. Can you walk?” “Yes,” she responds but she is deeply confused about the turn of events.

She takes a step to show him she can in fact walk and promptly tumbles to the ground.

It is rather difficult to walk after hundreds of years not engaging in the movement.

Eren ends up just scooping her into his arms and Mikasa finds she doesn’t hate it there, he smells quite nice, something she’s never smelled before.

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90 notes - Posted January 6, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

this was gonna be poetic and pretty and about Queen Sovereign Mikasa and then I saw the 'met while buying condoms' prompt and i couldn't resist.

Shit, shit, shit.

Mikasa curses in her head about a hundred times as she loiters in the family planning aisle of the drug store. She's been there for ten minutes now, eyes scanning over the many colourful brands proclaiming that they offer the best protection, all shapes, all sizes, scented, unscented, latex, for those with latex allergies, even flavoured.

She swallows nervously as she squats down, leaning her knees up against the bottom shelf, eyes raking over all the possibilities. Fuck, she's sucha noob. She's never bought condoms before, is embarassed to even be doing it now. The guy has always had one rather luckily, but the other night upon stumbling into some random bedroom at a party she'd learn the hard way that not all guys kept them on hand. The adventure had ended awkwardly with Mikasa refusing to go without protection.

So, rather than find herself in the drugstore the morning after begging the pharmacist for plan B, she finds herself on a friday night scouring the shelves for condoms pre-emptively for a night out.

She curses yet again as Trojan and Durex stare back at her accusingly, competing for her attention with bright purples and dark navy hues, glow in the dark and strawberry flavoured options.

Mikasa briefly allows her eyes to skate towards the very limited sex toy section of the aisle, a few pink packaged vibrators promising her a better time than this. No hassle of having to purchase or choose which brand to buy, just a good time for the night.

Slim, manicured fingers drop the box of condoms, stopped in her tracks by a tall imposing presence behind her. Shit! She's taken too long, now someone is in the aisle with her. She can only hope it's just a really tall menacing woman. Mikasa tilts her head back just enough to catch a glimpse and it's definitely not a woman.

No, it's a tall, attractive guy who's looking at her in amusement as she squats in front of the condom selection. She whips her head back towards the condoms, pretending to browse conspicuously, dark hair shielding her face as she attempts to sink into the shelf, disappear into the wall of condoms. Hopefully, he'll leave quickly, maybe he's looking to buy pads for his girlfriend or something a few paces down. He does not and her dreams are crushed as he hums merrily, browsing the shelves above her. Mikasa tries her very best to go back to her decision, trying to choose between a few different brands, pick the best options, hoping he'll leave quickly.

Instead, after a few minutes she feels him squat down next to her, eyes very obviously on her and she peaks up at him nervously and fuck he's even hotter up close. Green eyes sparkling with mirth, a wicked smile on his face, biceps bulging as he crosses his arms over his knees. "Need some help?"

"I-no!"

He raises an eyebrow and she deflates, "Yes, I don't know what i'm doing." Whatever, she'll give into hot stranger for a few minutes, pretend he's who she's buying condoms for, and not that he's in fact just doing this out of the kindness of his heart with a pretty girlfriend to go home too.

Mikasa lets out an actual honest to god squeak as his warm fingers make contact with her own as he snags the condom box she'd been looking at from her.

"These are garbage, they feel like shit," he comments, chucking the box to the bottom of the shelf. "Oh," she whispers, like she's her brain isn't cycling through images of this darkly attractive stranger fucking her with said condoms. Then, he grabs her next pick, pushing it to the back of the shelf, "Also garbage, almost lit my fucking dick on fire."

Her mouth parts slightly and he keeps his eyes on her, smirking at her reaction as he grabs a flavoured box. "These are good for BJs I guess, I've heard they taste okay, but pro tip, usualy head is better without condoms." He winks and if it was someone even slightly less attractive, she'd have smacked this boy upside the head for his boldness. But as it is, all she can do is nod and wish to god it was her he was talking about as he tells her each condom factoid like it's common knowledge.

Finally, he settles on an XL box with lube and ribbing along the outside and he hands it to her, "These are the ones I use," he tells her and she nervously takes the box from his large hands, thinking about all the damage a boy like this could do to her, especially using XL branded condoms. She doesn't know much but she knows he must be obscene and she shivers a little as she takes it.

As if to add insult to injury he shrugs, "That is when I actually use condoms, definitely not a preference of mine, trust me it's always better without." His eyes are dark as he says the last part, hungry and her hands clench around the box, holding on for dear life.

"Thanks," she whispers to him, eyes locked on dark green and he shrugs, "No problem, you looked like you were struggling a bit." "Yeah, like I said, I'm not exactly well-versed in condom shopping." A strange look crosses the boy's face, his brows furrowing, "Well your boyfriend sounds like a jackass, he should have at least told you what to get." Mikasa chokes on her breath, struggling to get the words out before this beautiful boy misunderstands, "I don't have a boyfriend!"

"Oh," a pleased smile crawls up his handsome face, full lips curving up and oh that's a dangerous look, "Then who were you buying them for?" "Umm, well you know just in case, you never know..." She trails off, how the fuck is she supposed to tell him she's hoping to get laid at a party without sounding like a hoe, she's just horny okay, she has needs!

She can see he's struggling to hold back a laugh, "Well I'm glad you're practicing safe-sex I guess."

"I am," she says a bit too loudly and it's awkward for a moment before she shoots her shot because fuck it, "And you, are you buying those for you and your girlfriend?"

This time he really does laugh, a dark chuckle that sends tingles down her spine, "Nah, just in case." His eyes flash viridian and Mikasa stands nervously, this ridiculously hot boy following her, dusting off his knees. "Umm, what's your name?" "Eren, and you?" "Mikasa." "Pretty name," he tells her, hand reaching up to flick at her hair, tossing it over her shoulder playfully, "Well maybe I'll see you around Mikasa, I'll leave you to your shopping, I could see you were eyeing up the vibrators." She dies inside a little, waving at him meekly, he smirks "See you around Mikasa."

She might want to die, but she truly hopes he frequents this drug store often, she will camp out if necessary to find him again. He saunters down the aisle away from view and all Mikasa can do is think about the next time she'll see him. It's five minutes later, she sees him as he comes up behind her in the checkout line, smirking as he bumps into her. She stumbles a little, falling into his arms as his hands dart out to catch her waist. He looks down at her intense, hungry and she can feel her core heat at his touch, he's ridiculously hot.

"Careful, pretty girl," he whispers against her hair, close and she can smell his aftershave, he smells nice, clean, exactly like the kind of boy she wants to take home tonight. He takes his sweet time letting her go as he steadies her, hands caressing down her sides, a feel of her ass before he pulls away, grabbing some items from his fallen basket and placing them down ont he conveyor belt. He drops a pack of gum and some candy down innocently after her own items which are decidedly not as innocent. He fights back a smile as he notices not one but two packs of the condoms he suggested, and some lube, just in case. Mikasa wants the floor to open up and swallow her whole, the only escape from this hell.

"Two boxes I see, planning a busy night huh?" Mikasa isn't given the chance to defend herself as the cashier calls her forward and Mikasa follows her items up to the register.

She spends the majority of the transaction avoiding eye contact with the cashier and trying to come up with ways to slip this boy her number. Should she wait outside the door until he's done? Should she try to ask him out? Should she tell him he needs to take it a step further and show her how to use the condoms he'd reccomended. Oh god.

She's in her own world and the next thing she knows the cashier is tapping the debit machine in front of her to scan her card and great now she looks like an idiot in front of Eren, or as she's been thinking of him, Mr. Attractive.

She gives him one last look, an apology for even existing in his presence, he probably thinks she's a desperate loser.

Those green eyes say the opposite and he winks at her, waving her off and turning to the cashier.

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159 notes - Posted March 15, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #LOL THIS IS SO FUNNY TO ME #I

[fr3aklike-me]

jajsjs fair enough. i would also need to re read it a lot! i just got back from shopping, i got some super cute new clothes and also got a new valentine’s day lingerie set. i love it sooo much!!

i’m glad you came hard daddy, you deserve it! i love telling you about all my pretty lingerie, it makes me feel so good wearing it.

daddy yes, you have no clue how much i want to rile you up and tease you all day. just so i can be fucked by you and taken roughly by my daddy, it’s all i want. need you pounding into me, whispering dirty things into my ears and making me scream for you. please, you’re gonna make me ruin so many pairs of panties daddy. you’re so mean for teasing me like that but… i absolutely love it. you’d turn me into a begging, mindless mess for my daddy so quickly. i do indeed squirt, you’re the only one who’s made me squirt one time last year, when you made me edge. please, fingerfuck me and fill me up until i’m begging to cum for you.

yes. yes yes yes. please, fuck me like that. whisper things into my ear and make me whimper and squirm before you’re even inside me. my hole is made for you to fill up with your cum daddy, it’s all i want. just to be filled up by you all the time.

sorry for the super duper long ask. i didn’t realise how long it is!! also the posts ur tagging me in… keep doing it. want all of it so badly.

thank you daddy. when i get home m gonna touch myself and play with my wand. yes! i know i’m responding late but i want you to tease me so badly. make me blush and squirm daddy, tease me however you wish <3

-❄️

god, I bet you look so sexy in that lingerie and all the clothes you got, baby. I'm sure you look absolutely beautiful, and I'm so glad you had such a good time shopping <3 wish I could show you just how good you look

awe, baby, and you call me mean? when you're the one who'd be teasing me slowly for hours until I finally snap and get you on your back? that's what you want, cutie? daddy turning you into such a mess, squirting all over your pretty panties while you shake and scream underneath me? you're just aching for daddy to plug your pretty hole up with my load, aren't you? your pussy would make such loud, messy noises while I fuck my come into you, while you squeeze around my dick and squirt all over, such a messy baby for me. god, it makes me feel so many things to know you squirted when you edged that time for me, that seriously is such an honour, baby. I wanna fuck you just like that, slowing down and speeding up, pausing while I'm still inside you, right when you're on the edge, so you can feel so full and stretched out with daddy's dick, but not getting to come just yet. I'd want you to tell me exactly what you need, beg for it, repeat to me that you're my dumb pretty girl, that your pussy is all mine and mine only to leave leaking with come

and don't apologize, baby! I read your ask before going to my class, and I've been so looking forward to responding to it once I get home. and hehe, yes, I'll tag you in posts, I love doing it <3

god, I wanna tease you so bad too, until you're dripping all over your hand and begging to come. how did it feel, baby?

#answered asks #❄️ anon

[muttfangs]

story time (jk im just venting)

v. funny to see posts by this dude on my tl who I went on a few dates w/ and then would fall off the face of the earth (rinse repeat) still obsess over me months after ......................................... trying to hide the fact that he's seriously dating someone now lol like. i'm not gonna judge him harshly bc he has a lot of life circumstances going on, and clearly needs to work through a lot of stuff still. but I am gonna judge him a little lmao what happened was: > on off talking / dates sporadically for like idk. a couple years at this point now > reconnected this past summer, he became very interested in me while in IOP (we bonded over our experiences w/ therapy & IOP and it was def nice to be understood and also help him w/ his fears about treatment) >  I was giving him some time & space to adjust to IOP (bc I know that shit is DRAININGGGGGGG rough as fuck AND HE ALSO TOLD ME HE NEEDED SPACE :))))) ) > he’s a terrible communicator (this has been an issue in the past), so he interprets me giving him space as ignoring / abandoning him and never told me how he felt about it > instead I find this out bc he’s posting stuff like “I’m hotter than the boys I cry over” “this is what I get for opening up to someone” “I don’t care” etc on his tl when I check in on him here and there > I’m too old for the “teehee come chase me wait don’t chase me but actually chase me or I’ll be mad at you” high school shit so I decide I’ll keep in touch w/ him as friends, but I’m not pursuing him romantically anymore > keep in touch for the next few weeks (bc I still care about him as a person and IOP is a rough go of it), ask him how IOP is, do the usual “fall out of contact rinse & repeat” cycle again > check his tl about 3 weeks after some radio silence to make sure he’s ok in IOP since he posts about it a lot & I notice someone consistently commenting on all his posts > click their name, scroll down………………………………….. their most recent post is them saying how he “gave me permission to post about this” (YUCK :) ) and that they’re in love with him and they’re officially together as partners now (????? lol, lmao, etc) > wait a minute. > check his tl again………….. relationship status is HIDDEN FROM ME and so is the post this other person made **tagging him in it**. He went out of his way to block me from seeing both of these things lmfao > bitch, you really thought, huh :))))))))))) > send him a DM because I need him to know that I know. It’s shitty to not only me, but to the person he’s dating, to pull weird shiesty tomfoolery like that > “congrats on the relationship dude!” > “thanks bruh” he’s clearly freaked out that I know bc his response is not nearly as cheerful or warm as usual lmao > cue another 1 month and some change of radio silence > check his tl today (because I remembered him saying he’s graduating from IOP around this time of august) > mfer is **still** posting about how he “doesn’t care” and vagueposting about me > (very!) weirded out but still send a congrats DM to him regardless bc I know he’s been through a lot > no response > ok! bye I guess hey???? how come I can’t attract people who are normal about relationship shit lmao

#barking into the void #ough man. im so tired