#I think about him a Normal Amount (is about to fucking explode)

[a-lonely-dunedain]

"it will be a reminder to me that there can be beauty even in sadness." A faded red blossom is tucked between two leaves of Narndir's journal, and it crinkles as your turn the pages.

[astrophileous]

A little fluffy piece of reader who normally takes her coffee black vs Spencer having a ton of sugar in his? The two of them getting their drinks mixed up and almost spitting it out at the pure amount/lack of sugar? 🤭

OMG I was actually planning to include a similar scene in one of my upcoming oneshots, but you know whattt!!! I'll write them again here anyway bcs it's such a cute concept 🥰

Warning(s): gn!reader but reader wears lipgloss, profanities, fixation over lips, bashful spencer bcs he's my babygirl <3

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

"What the fuck?"

Spencer strode over just in time to see you spitting something out into the kitchenette sink. There was no concealing the disgust on your face as you eyed the cup in your grasp suspiciously.

"Hey." Spencer's voice tore through the air in a shaky ball of nerves. It sounded meek amidst the buzzing busyness of the BAU bullpen, yet still, you snapped your head up as soon as the single syllable left his mouth.

Your eyes instantly melted when they flickered towards his face.

"I think our drinks got switched," Spencer added, a little louder this time.

Your gaze played a tennis match between the identical cups in both your hand and Spencer's. The grimace you rewarded him in the next second was possibly the cutest thing Spencer had seen in the past few months.

"This is yours? That explains so much. Ever heard of diabetes, Dr. Reid?" you joked as the two of you returned each cup to its rightful owner. "What the hell is in that, anyway?"

"Um, coffee?"

"Right." You rolled your eyes. "I may know practically nothing compared to you, Doctor, but I know for a fact that was not coffee. Tell me, how many sugar canes had to be chopped down to satisfy your abominable preference of sweetness?"

"It's not that bad."

"Not that bad? Do you even know what real coffee tastes like?"

Before he could produce a reply, you suddenly thrust the cup of coffee in your hand right in front of Spencer's nose. The man staggered rearwards until his back met the wall with a thud.

"What are you doing?"

"Try it," you said sheepishly.

"What?"

"Try the goddamn coffee, Reid."

Spencer didn't actually need to try the goddamn coffee. After all, he knew your order like the back of his hand: iced americano with an extra shot of espresso, maybe one pump of syrup if you were feeling adventurous. He could already imagine how revolting the drink would taste.

But as you continued to peer at him behind your lashes, eyes twinkling with mischief and lips glossy from your favorite cherry lipgloss—the limited edition one that you had proudly boasted about in front of the entire team—Spencer could feel his IQ depleting in a rapid descension. He accepted the cup without a word and took a courageous sip.

"Well?" you questioned expectantly.

"Please don't force me to do anything like that, ever again."

Laughter exploded deep from within your chest when Spencer shoved the coffee back into your awaiting hand. He didn't have a lot of time to mull over the nauseating bitterness, however. Not when you proceeded to wrap your own lips around the lid—the same one he was just drinking from—and downed a generous sip.

Spencer averted his gaze away.

"Hey." JJ peeked into the pantry area, unaware of the rush of blood and inner turmoil that Spender was battling. The blonde waved the file in her hand before gesturing at the conference room. "We've got a case. Hotch wants everyone in five."

You skittered away after JJ's announcement, leaving Spencer dumbfounded and pathetically bothered by the image of your enticing lips. He followed after your footsteps, leading himself towards the conference room where the rest of his team was gathering. He drank a large sip from his own coffee to calm his racing heart, unaware of the reddish stain in the shape of your lips marking the area around the lid of his cup.

For the rest of that day, Spencer could taste traces of cherry on the tip of his tongue.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

I Skip My Pride - No Love Lost Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: What an amazing opportunity to use that gif. Takes place in Chapter 22. Title from Lay All Your Love On Me by ABBA.

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary/Warnings: You share some music with Ben over text. Usual warnings.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, fluff

whjt is empty v 

What? 

annie and mm are talkinng avout empty v. wat is it. Ben frowned at his phone, watching the little bubbles appear and disappear, and added theyre foghting about something calld a reeahna  

The bubbles disappeared for half a second, and then- 

Ask MM how to spell that. 

Ben ahead of him, where MM and Annie were locked in an argument about something that sounded fucking stupid. 

“How the fuck do you spell that.” 

MM twisted, frowning at him. “Spell what.”

“That weird fucking word you said. The reeahna.” 

“Do you,” Annie paused, exchanging a weird fucking look with MM. “Do you mean Rihanna?” 

“Sure. How the fuck do you spell it.” 

Ben listened as Annie sounded every letter out—slowly, like he was fucking stupid—and entered them into the phone carefully. 

rihanna. 

The response was immediate. Jesus fucking Christ, Ben. 

wat 

She’s a singer. And you’re thinking of MTV. 

whats mtv 

MTV was launched in the 80s. You should know what MTV is. 

Ben paused, then typed, cabel channel 

Good work. I’m proud of you. 

shutt up. why is that shit still aroond 

People love music, celebrities, and drama, and MTV provides all three. 

od they still do thw msuic show 

VMAs?  

sure 

Yes, they do.  

music goood 

What???? 

is musac still good 

I’d say it is, but it’s an incredibly subjective medium. 

wat music do u liek tha most 

Ben knew what music She liked. He’d spent hours listening to all her fucking songs, over and over while she was gone. But the variety had almost killed him with whiplash, and he didn’t have the goddamn time to comb through the infinite amount of songs she seemed to enjoy. If She’d just spell out the best ones, he’d memorize them because he loved Her, and not bother with shit that wasn’t necessary.

The little bubbles had started up again, appearing and disappearing for several seconds before- 

Did you listen to the playlist? 

dont knoww how

Do you want help?

He sighed, glancing up at Annie and MM to ensure they wouldn’t reach back and grab his fucking phone from his hand, and looked back down. yes 

Yes… Please? 

dont puush it 

I’m not helping you if you don’t say please, Benjamin. 

Ben scowled at the screen. pleas 

Thank you. Open the app, go to playlists, and hit the one labeled Benjamin Music Education Initiative. 

Ben rolled his eyes, but followed Her instructions, returning to the messages when he was done. now wat 

Listen to the music, dummy.  

i dont know theese songs 

That’s the point. There was a brief pause—Ben was really starting to hate these stupid fucking bubbles—before, There’s four songs per decade you missed. Three that are important for you to know, and one that I like. I also added some more familiar stuff that I thought you’d like, so you don’t listen to Toxic and explode.  

stuf i like 

Hughie said you like Steely Dan, so I went off of that. Ben grinned at the screen, even as the next message came through. Old fucking man music, by the way. You’re not doing yourself any favors in the “I’m not a goddamn dinosaur, Sunshine” department. 

He wasn’t a fucking dinosaur. Normally, Ben would’ve immediately typed that into the phone with a glare, but something in his chest was making him all fucking soft and fucking happy. He loved Her so fucking much, and it was making him a pussy, but Christ, he couldn’t bring himself to give a flying pig’s fuck. He could picture Her perfect face in a mock frown, almost hear Her voice dropped into that dogshit fucking impression of him as he read her words, and he did like Steely Dan. He had absolutely no memory of telling Hughie that, but Ben didn’t really fucking care if he’d mentioned it and forgotten, because now She knew. And She’d added a few of their songs to the stupid playlist, mixed in with a bunch of shit Ben didn’t recognize. 

doo i have to listeen now 

Do you not want to? 

i dont want to stoop talking to u 

There was a pause, and then, You can do both. They aren’t mutually exclusive. 

why 

Because two apps can run at once.  

Ben blinked, and went back to the playlist, hitting the button labeled play and almost dropping his phone as the music blasted through the car. 

“Shit!” MM turned around the glare at Ben as he smashed his thumb onto the screen, trying to stop the guitar splitting filling up the air. “Use fucking headphones, you asshole, not all of us want to listen to Nirvana right now!” 

“Nobody gave me headphone, you dicksack-“ 

“Here,” Annie threw a pair of thin white wires at Ben’s face, shrugging. “Those are my backups, they were like fifteen dollars. You can keep them.” 

Ben scowled at the alleged headphones. “This is fucking string.” 

“Goddammit,” MM muttered, snatching Ben’s phone and the wires from his hand and chucking them back into his lap, now somehow connected together. “You’re welcome, motherfucker. Go back to sulking about your separation anxiety and use those if you want to listen to music.” 

Ben didn’t know how to use them to listen to music. Headphones were big, and they went over your ears. These couldn’t go over fucking shit. 

how do u use wiires as headpones 

What? 

annie gav me string and said to use is to musicc 

Oh. Those are earbuds, you put them in your ears.  

Ben glanced down at the wires. There were little pieces on the end that looked bigger, and could maybe fit in his ears. 

They did. It felt really goddamn weird, but when he shook his head they didn’t fall out, and when he pressed play again it was like the music was being pushed into his brain.  

i got it 

Good work. 

shut the fhck up 

Rude. Do you like the music? 

its ok. loud 

I’ll take okay and loud. I did start with grunge, so it’ll get quieter.  

its not baad. didnt fuckinng expect it tho 

I have so many old man jokes. 

Ben rolled his eyes. brat 

Cunt. Wait until you get to the 2010s, you’re going to hate it. 

He might. Ben didn’t understand half the pop culture shit in the modern world, but She did, and he trusted her. He wasn’t listening to his music for himself, it was all for her. To find out what fucking music she deemed worthy of showing him, what stuff she loved, so he could love Her better. Maybe manage to understand her insane, genius fucking brain a little more. And he hadn’t been lying, the music wasn’t bad. A lot of it was weird as shit, but none of it made him want to rip off his ears.  

And it was making something inside of Ben all fucking soft and gooey, that She’d successfully figured out what music he liked. That she’d taken the time to do this, just for him. It was the Benjamin Music Education Initiative. This was for Ben, from Her. He fucking loved Her, and she cared about him enough to do this. He was going to memorize every single fucking song on this list, and maybe she’d do it again.  

He’d love Her no matter what. Even when she made old man jokes and called him a cunt, Ben would keep loving Her until it killed him. 

i thogt u hated romeo an juilet 

I do. Why? 

song 

Well, this version has a happy ending, and it’s an excellent fucking song. 

its fine 

It’s amazing. Do not disrespect that song, Pretty Boy. It’s blasphemy.

i said its fuckig fine 

I’m going to make you listen to the whole album. The entire discography. 

He could live with that. If it kept Her at his side, Ben would easily put up with listening to this twangy guitar for a million goddamn years. If it made Her smile, all the fucking better. wahtever 

Don’t test me. I’ll do it.

i no 

Know. 

fuckk off

No. You’re stuck with me. 

Ben could live with that as well.

End Note: Do you guys think Ben would be a swiftie. I feel like he would but he'd be like, angry about it.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

If you want to be tagged, just ask!

Taglist

@manicjk @lordofthunderthr @artemys-ackles @brtodd

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

12 Days of Christmas: 2024 Christmas Event

Day 4: Gingerbread

Pairing: Hyrule x Reader

Warning(s): N/A

Notes: This is dedicated to me getting rear-ended on my way to work and having a panic attack in a Walgreens parking lot, and all the people who've been requesting Hyrule (I SEE YOU).

Main Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Previous Day | Next Day

Hyrule was a hylian of many talents.

He could wield a sword like no one's business, create lightning with a mere snap of his fingers, and possessed a mouth quicker than anyone you'd met before. Though, you realized upon waking up in bed--alone, no less--to the frighteningly familiar scent of burning, there was only so much the man could be perfect at.

Standing on unsteady legs, you followed the scent to the kitchen, mouth falling open as you beheld the chaos. There was batter everywhere: on the counter, the walls, the floor, and, most notably, the shifty-eyed form of your boyfriend. Not only that, but it was a very suggestive shade of brown that made you want to simultaneously scream and throw yourself into the comfort of your shared bed.

"G-Good morning," stammered the fairy bastard himself, arms coming up to partially cover his bare chest, which only brought more questions to the frazzled forefront of your mind. Why was he shirtless? Why was it making you want to jump something other than whoever told him he could make... well, you weren't quite sure what he was attempting to create, but you would sure as hell find out. "...How did you sleep?"

You opened your mouth to respond.

A glob of molten shit fell from the ceiling.

Your jaw clicked shut in shocked solidarity.

Hyrule was still staring at you, looking very much like a child who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Except the cookie jar was a considerate metaphor for whatever the fuck was currently cooling in that blasted cooking pot.

"Good," you managed to force out. It was true, you had slept amazingly; if only your waking life could have started as perfectly. "What–"

"I can explain," Hyrule cut you off, taking a step closer. Dear Hylia, he was covered in batter, from the tops of his freckled shoulders to the tapered dip of the beginnings of a v-line through the band of his sleep trousers. You instinctively held your hands up. Another glob fell from the ceiling. "I, um, heard you talking about wanting to make... gingerbread a bit ago," he paused, and you caught sight of the cookbook sitting innocently on the counter, feeling your exasperation ebb like water through clenched fingers. Hyrule's gaze turned melancholic as he surveyed the damage. "It was supposed to be a surprise..."

Fuck, you couldn't even think to be upset after all that. He had tried, and you were goddamn proud of it. "Don't be sorry," you said. Soft, comforting. Without missing a beat, you closed the distance between the two of you, wrapping him in a fierce hug. To hell with your clothes, you could wash them later. "We all start somewhere, honey."

Hyrule returned your embrace, hands fisting in the back of your tunic. His head wormed to where your shoulder met your neck, nose brushing sensitive skin, and you giggled softly at the ticklish sensation. "It's okay," you rubbed his back, paying extra attention to the sharper-than-normal slopes of his shoulder blades. Sure, there was an ungodly amount of failed gingerbread coating every inch of the kitchen, but you were an adult, damnit! "How about this," you began. "We'll clean this up and I'll show you how to make gingerbread the non-exploding way, okay?"

Hyrule's response was a grateful, mentally-assuaged peck to your cheek. "Thank you," he said, and you hugged him closer, unbothered by the goop still dripping from the ceiling.

"Okay, what the fuck," you muttered in disbelief as you worked on the mess that was the ceiling with a half-damp rag, precariously perched on the highest chair you owned. Naturally, it had begun to harden as time passed, and you were seriously regretting leaving your cookbook within reach of your boyfriend's grubby little fae fingers. You still loved him, obviously, but it had been no secret who would be doing the cooking in the relationship from the moment you witnessed his attempt at fruit cake a year back. "Link, love of my life, how the hell did you manage this?"

"Sorry," came his sheepish reply from the counter, where a particularly stubborn set of globs resided. His cheeks were pink with situational embarrassment, and it couldn't have been cuter if he tried.

You glanced down at Hyrule, bit your lip, and scrubbed marginally harder. "It's fine, I'm just..." Shocked? Aghast? Completely and overwhelmingly flattered by the gesture? "...impressed."

And terrified, but you would keep that to yourself.

"You didn't have to do this," you continued, slower. More thoughtful. "Not that I don't appreciate it--because I do– but, um–"

Fuck, how were you to convey your appreciation without sounding like an asshole, or, worse, Legend?

"I wanted to," replied your boyfriend; simple, like that was all there was to it. Hopeful hazel eyes tore themselves from the hardened gingerbread to gaze at your perched form. "Plus, you said everyone starts somewhere. I'm not getting any better unless I try."

Double fuck, he was using your own words against you! To keep from squealing, you scrubbed harder, squeezing the rag with enough force to puncture the fabric. "That's..." you paused, because, really, he was completely right. He usually was. "Thanks, Link."

"At your service," the hero mock saluted, and you couldn't help but snort. He wasn't a knight–not by a long shot–but it didn't matter when he saved you all the same. The counter was clean, and he moved to the chair you stood atop, hands hovering inches from your calves, ready to hold you steady should the need arise.

You giggled, wishing you had a way of pecking the crown of his head without simultaneously sticking your ass in his face. Not that you hadn't enjoyed each other in the kitchen, but one mess was enough for one day. "Truly, I'm being blessed."

"Actually, I'd argue it's the other way around–"

"Shush, dear, we're having a moment."

A hand squeezed your calf. "Right, right."

You were bone-tired by the time the scent of gingerbread finally began filling the house, practically passed out on the small couch you'd purchased together to represent the greatest triumph of your love: combined social anxiety, which the item of furniture emulated perfectly by encouraging you to renounce hylian-ity and become the hermits your souls yearned for.

A clattering noise rang out from the kitchen. You raised your head from the soft backrest, your expression not able to fully contain your budding terror. "You okay?" you called hesitantly. Letting Hyrule assume control of the kitchen while you collapsed in the living room was a battle unto itself, but you had faith. A tiny, sniveling, quivering faith that his response would either make or break.

"Yep!" Hyrule called back. He sounded giddy, though you weren't sure if it was a bad thing or not. "Ready to be amazed?"

"Hit me!" you cheered, and the hero rushed into the room, holding two vaguely-square blobs that smelled more than promising. It seems you made the right choice in overseeing the dough-making procedure, because he had a silly little habit of... adding ingredients that sounded good, but were actually what your mom warned you about when it was your father's turn to cook. "Oh my Hylia, you did it."

Hyrule chuckled, sitting next to you and handing over one of the mouthwatering blobs. "You haven't even tried it yet."

"I don't have to," you shot back, hefting a wide grin in his direction. You took a bit of the cookie and, fuck, if that wasn't some of the best gingerbread you remembered having in a painfully long time. "Holy shit, this is amazing."

"R-Really?" Your hero leaned closer, eyes glimmering hopefully. His thigh brushed yours when you took him by the back of his neck, pulling him closer until you were nose-to-nose. You kissed him, and there was no hesitation in the way Hyrule's arms snaked to wrap around your form. He tasted like gingerbread, and you almost wept when it came time to separate for air, lips swelling and mouths panting. "I love you," he said, holding you like a strong wind would blow you away. "So much."

"I love you, too," you pressed your foreheads together, content to bask in the fading dusk light and freshly-fallen snow caking the frosted outside of the windows. The cookie in your hand meant nothing when you had him, even if it was delicious as fuck. "We should do this again."

Hyrule's eyes crinkled at the corners, and he pressed a ginger-tinged kiss to the tip of your nose. "I'd love nothing more."

A bit shorter than usual, but I'm still proud!

[woaaahh-itz-caam]

Please rant about darkchocolate /not forcing

I need to hear about gay people

YESYEHYSHSYEHDY YESSS!! OMG OMG OMG EVERYBODY RING THE BELLS, TURN ON THE ALARMS!!!! ITS HAPPENING ITS HAPPENING!!!!! GHGRHHRHDHFH STAY CALM!!! STAY FUCKING CALMEDDJDJSJXJXNBX

THANK U ANON I LUV U I WOULD GLADLY RAMBLE ABT THEM THEY R MY FAVORITE SILLIES EVER HEHEHEHEHHE

I just think they’re sooooo!! INTERESTING!! Like the two evil dudes r ALSO doomed old man yaoi?? SIGN ME TF UP!!! My obsession with this two gays is NOT NORMAL!! LIKE I GOT AU’S, I GOT COMICS, I GOT FANFIC WIPS, I GOT A WHOOOLE ASS SHIPCHILD— I GOT IT ALLLLL!!!

I gen love them so much i cantttt <33

I just enjoy their dynamic sm!! Dramatic manchild x Manipulative asshole?? Chat THE ANGST POTENTIAL!! But at the same time.. THE FLUFF POTENTIAL!!! They are “i could fix him” AND “i could make him worse” at the same time AND THATS SO. FUCKING. AMAZINGGG!! Im normally very picky with ships, i always try to see if they fit the very specific characterization i like, BUT WITH DARKCHOCOLATE THAT JUST SOMEHOW GOES OUT THE WINDOW??? THEY JUST KINDS FIT EVERYTHING SOMEHOW???? I LOOOOOOOOOOVEEEEE THEMFJNDJDNDJ

BOOM HAVE A VEEEEERY OLD DARKCHOCOLATE DOODLE BEFORE I EXPLODE INTO A MILLION PIECES

Tldr i go insane abt them and i love them very very much (the amount of headcanons i have for those 2 gays is absurd DO NOT LET ME RAMBLE FURTHER)

[jaylver]

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS? — L.HS

SYNOPSIS: Situationships were never fun. Unfortunately for you, you found yourself being in one with your long term best friend, and that ended up getting sour when confusions started to appear, which only had you questioning if you were still friends or not?

PAIRINGS: fwb!heeseung x afab!reader

GENRE: friends with benefits relationship, angst

WARNING(S): profanities, a whole lot of frustrations

WC: 1k

masterlist | © jaylver all rights reserved.

Are we still friends?

That was a question you asked yourself over and over again. You found yourself waking up next to Heeseung once every few mornings after spending the night, each time you ended up shutting your eyes and praying it was just a dream. But do dreams normally consist of you being bare naked and waking up to dread and regret? No.

People who said trying out friends with benefits was ‘fun’ were uttering absolute bullshit. If it was fun, you wouldn’t be wishing for a hole to swallow you up whole at this moment.

You couldn’t even tell when it had even started. 

Heeseung had always been your closest friend throughout highschool leading up to college. Everything was normal until one night at a party, where you two got too drunk to remember anything, only realising the damage was done the moment you woke up next to one another. You would be lying if you said it wasn’t awkward, you literally stopped speaking for days until confrontations happened and the stupid deal of friends with benefits was brought up.

You knew people would be calling you a crazy person if you turned down an insanely hot man who happened to be your best friend, but at the same time, he was your best friend, the same guy that you grew up with. So, no, you weren’t entirely crazy.

In the months of the entire sneaking around shenanigans happening, you wished you could lie and admit your feelings stayed indifferent, but alas, your heart had to skip a beat whenever he did something, even the ones that were the simplest. Who could blame you anyway? Heeseung was a flirt, a fucking flirt, and he happened to be a hopeless romantic that would pull the sweetest stunts you never experienced even with your past lovers.

Buying a bouquet of flowers after your finals, treating you to dinners at fancy restaurants, taking care of you when you feel sick, eating together with your family, your plus one to weddings … all that and the two of you still remained label-less, how insane was that?

After all that, the countless nights spent together and the amount of sneaking around, you might think either one of you would finally pop the question and admit ‘hey, I like you’ or something along the lines, but no, not even once. What made things worse was that Heeseung seemed to be avoiding you and hanging out with other girls. Really? You thought, completely gobsmacked. 

Now here you were, in the middle of your apartment, pacing around all antsy and anxious, waiting for the man of the hour to arrive. Were you going to explode soon from what was happening soon? Absolutely.

The familiar sound of the door twisted, your anxiety made you completely forget about the fact that Heeseung indeed had a copy of your keys, so you were left unprepared when he entered, even more so when he made his way towards you and pulled you into a heated kiss, his lips clashing onto yours, leaving you zero breath or space.

Don’t cave, don’t cave, don’t cave!

Your hands reached his chest, his hands only travelling further into your hair, tugging it gently to have your head tilted back in order to give way to his lips and your neck for contact. As much as you were enjoying this and wishing for more, you genuinely had to stop him, pushing him away hard, his touch lingered on your body, his dishevelled self staring back at you confusedly.

“Y/N?”

“Hee…we should talk,”

He raised an eyebrow, his head tilted to one side. “What’s there to … talk?”

You scoffed in disbelief. “You avoid me and fucked around with other girls then suddenly, you hit me up saying you’re coming over after all that? Do you expect me to welcome you with open arms?”

“Y/N…God, I didn’t fuck any of them—”

“Don’t you get it? I don’t care if you fucked them or not, it’s the fact that you broke my heart and what’s ridiculous is that we aren’t even together,” you let out a strained laugh. “I don’t even know if you want me or not, Hee. One second you say you love me in bed, saying how you never want to let me go and send me flowers at work, then the next second you pretend we’re nothing, completely insignificant. What are we? Are we still friends?”

“Of course we are, what are you saying? Hell, we’re probably more than that,”

“Then, why can’t you just say it? I want you to want me, Hee, don’t you fucking get it? But it seems like you don’t,”

“You deserve someone more than me, Y/N,”

You bit your lips, pushing that lump in your throat back, the feeling of pouring tears pricked at your eyes. “Bullshit,” you seethed out, pushing his chest, anger and frustration overwhelmed you. “I can’t believe I actually believed you would feel the same, even for a second,”

“I do love you,” Heeseung breathed out, pining and desperation painted his expressions, but the words that left his lips reflected something else. 

“If you do, you wouldn’t have played me like this, for fuck’s sake,” you threw your hands up, trying your best to hold your tears in. “Maybe we should just end things here for once and for all,”

“We should,” Heeseung blinked slowly, processing everything gradually. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I know this sounds selfish but can we forget about this thing? I know we can’t mend what was already done and hurt, but you’re my best friend, you’ll always be. Can we start over? Can we be friends?”

You knew no matter what, there was no way you could ever let Heeseung go completely. The boy you knew since highschool, the boy you’ve gone through everything with, the first boy you entirely lost your heart to, you had a feeling nobody could amount to him, and that was your fatal flaw. Maybe, just maybe, he shared the same flaw of being unable to let go of you completely either. You and him travelled in the same wavelength, you completed one another’s missing puzzle piece, in short, you were soulmates, but whether you were aware of it, that was the problem.

“Of course,” you said, your voice coming out quiet and low, the lump in your throat still present, your chest squeezing hard.  

Heeseung nodded wordlessly, closing in to press a kiss on your forehead. That alone spoke louder than words could, it didn’t feel like a goodbye forever, it was more of a comforting reassurance, an apologetic one. He was already by the door, one hand on the doorknob before he turned around for another glance at you, his lips flattened into a small smile that didn’t quite reach to his eyes as it usually does, then once two beats has passed, he slipped past the door and was out of sight, but not out of mind.

You let out a big breath that you held in throughout, afraid that you might end up going breathless, falling onto your couch and you started blinking away the tears that were threatening to fall. You were a wreck and a mess, already strapping yourself in for the sad movies and depressing music playlists.

But it seemed that the universe had other plans for you instead. The doorbell rang and you froze, thinking it couldn’t be him again, right? You got up from your couch and trudged towards your door, wiping roughly at your face and praying you didn’t seem too slimy and gross. That’s when you whipped the door open, facing a delivery man, a flower bouquet in his hands. 

“Delivery for Y/N? Your weekly flowers, by the way,”

Oh, that. 

You took the flowers from the delivery man, bidding him goodbye before shutting your door shut. The timing was absolutely horrendous, you were played twice, how fun! The note was enticing you, though you knew it was a bad idea for your half broken but definitely weak heart. Curiosity killed the cat, and you were about to prove that right.

‘You’re my favourite flower. Always. — hee’

( © jaylver all rights reserved. do NOT copy, plagiarise or edit my work and repost whatsoever. once discovered will be exposed and blacklisted. )

[kn-1013]

here's some doodles of modern AU travis and sal. below the cut, i'll put a bunch (and i mean a bunch) of headcannons about them and this AU.

sal's prosthetic was already broken for years, and eventually the straps on it started disintegrating, and that's the only reason he went and got himself a new one. but due to aesthetic preferences, and the fact that it's just what he's been used to for so many years, he didn't like or go for any of the new-fangled hyper-realistic silicone facial prosthetics that have become popular today, and instead continues wearing a sturdy, plastic prosthetic white mask. he doesn't like the look or feel of the hyper-realistic silicone, and at this point in his life, is comfortable enough with the fact that he has massive facial differences that he doesn't really want to attempt to look 'normal', even if he continues wearing a prosthetic for comfort. he also finds it somewhat weird for himself that he could have a silicone prosthetic eye that doesn't blink, and feels that it would make people more weirded out or uncomfortable than if he just continued wearing a full plastic mask instead. besides, it's kind of his trademark at this point.

the black heart on his mask is gonna be sharpie or dry-erase marker, as he enjoys occasionally decorating it, or letting his coworkers decorate it for fun, which is at least partially why he chose white as his color.

at some point in his early twenties, sal decided to stop wearing pigtails because he decided it was too child-like, and he needed an adult hair style that would allow him to wear his mask easily (as that's one of the reasons he started wearing his hair up in the first place, it was easier on his hair/scalp to keep it out of the way of the straps) while also allowing for his feminine self-expression, and so one of the hair styles that eventually continued to be his trademark as an adult was a braid. he also wears his hair in buns, high ponytails, twin braids, and occasionally down, but that's generally when he's not feeling well.

sal has worked at this local nockfell grocery store part-time for many years and has seen it through a number of management changes. at the point of the AU, he's been working at that grocery store longer than anyone else, and knows everything imaginable about it. he doesn't limit himself to any particular task or area of the store, and due to his stubbornness and how incredibly useful he is, management is both unable and unwilling to keep him from doing any particular task. management goes to him when they have questions about how the store is supposed to work. sal will do any task that needs doing, period, and he can't be stopped from helping anyone in another area of the store if needed. stocking, cashiering, janitorial work, maintenance, etc. he is extremely consistent and rarely if ever misses a day of work, and is incredibly punctual. sal has been working at this store since before god was born and will be here after the sun explodes. it's simply a fact of life.

this job hires a lot of teenagers, and so there are a number of teenage coworkers that are utterly fascinated with him, because of his face, his style, and his extremely easygoing personality, and sal really tries to take them under his wing, especially if he can tell they're queer in some way, as he feels a responsibility to the young community as someone who is at this point a certified queer elder (though he tries not to think about his age too much). his teenage coworkers like to make tiktoks with him in them, and he is kind of afraid of tiktok because teenagers are fucking mean, so he doesn't use it himself, or if he does, he just lurks, but he does have a small amount of fans that seem to enjoy his presence, which is a nice thought to him.

the next one is travis. in his thirties, he finally chose to stop dying his hair due to expense, effort, the fact that it kind of makes him look like his dad and that makes him want to die, and it's also a part of embracing his racial background and his natural features. it's done a lot for his self confidence and un-learning his internalized racism, and it helps him connect to his mother, mentally, as he's realized just how much he does look like her with his hair long and dark like this, which is a lot nicer than looking like his dad.

he remains quite grumpy a lot of the time, but through his hardened shell, he remains a very big, genuine softie to his friends and family, even if he hates to admit it. sal especially manages to bring out the best and the worst in him by continuing to be annoyingly nice to him and genuinely seeming to enjoy his catty attitude, playing along with it extremely well, which puts travis at ease just as much as it irritates him, even now. he's basically a squidward type if i'm being honest.

i like to think that at some point, he did manage to really come out as gay. i like thinking about him coming out to his dad and getting into a fist fight with him over it and winning, a lot like that scene with the bar fight between micky and his dad in the TV show shameless (US). but this is mostly just because i want travis to grow a pair and also have some kind of W for himself. i know sal, larry, and the others would support him if he did that, even if larry still has trouble with him. but even after that, it's not something that he would talk a ton about very openly, and would probably still refer to any partner he does eventually get as his 'friend' or 'roommate' in old-school styling unless he's talking to close friends, basically until his grave or something.

due to the abuse he received from his father and all of the accumulated trauma, travis started drinking to cope with it in his late teens, particularly wine, and the alcohol continued to be a big problem for a couple of decades. he's been to rehab two or three times in his life, mostly being brought there by one of his sisters. his drinking has cost him a job more than once due to showing up late or drunk, and this is something that really hurts sal to see, both due to his father's experiences with alcoholism and due to watching a friend he's known for so many years destroy himself out of all of the trauma he's gone through. it's made even worse by the fact that as a drunk, travis is a lot like henry. he's not an angry or a happy drunk, he's a very distanced and quiet drunk. he drinks and then doesn't really do anything, he neglects himself and others, and it really destroys him. it's something that hits pretty close to home for sal, and as a result, he really tries to help travis take care of himself during the periods where he's been drinking more heavily.

at some point, for maybe 5-7 years, travis didn't live in nockfell. it was in part due to a rehab/therapy program he was trying to take part in that was in a different town (though he didn't tell anyone he was doing it because he was embarrassed about it), and in part because he wanted to get the hell out of that place. however, it took place in the city, and travis is not someone who was ever really meant to be in the city. he's not incredibly social, and really prefers to be surrounded by nature as much as possible. he needs constant immediate access to a lake at all times or he'll go very insane, so it was never really in the cards for him long-term to be there, and eventually he moved back because it was terrible on his mental health. though, when he came back, he did have a much better relationship with alcohol and his trauma than he did when he left, and was overall in a much better place, which is something that sal was really proud of him for.

during the period that travis wasn't living in nockfell, the two kept up with each other on facebook, as travis is a heavy facebook user and sal uses it to keep up with friends and family, and the general nockfell community, and he was glad to be able to at least see some of the process of travis's growth during that time.

just before travis left nockfell, when his hair was still blond, as a part of his "leaving town bucket list", he kissed sal on the mask just once, and it completely changed the way sal views him and rewired his brain basically, but he never did anything about it because as much as travis was insecure, sal was/is just as insecure still, and never really reached out to rectify either of their feelings for each other. it's not until travis moves back and they start reconnecting again that things eventually start going somewhere.

i have more that i can talk about with my ideas for these two, but this is so fucking long that i'm gonna have to make a part two or something like that at some point because there's just so much. i hope y'all like this AU though :)

[mattphobiia]

PLEASEE DO A CHRIS SMUT FIC LIKE THIS

ATTITUDE.

disclaimer: smut, this was requested by @mattsmunch so i hope you enjoyyy, dom!chris x sub!reader🤗🤗🤗, i also dont like this but I TRIED LOL

"what is your deal? you know i don't like parties!" i screamed, waving my hands in the air motioning over to the room filled with balloons and other party decorations as i release all my anger onto him. "why couldn't you just do the one thing i asked?"

chris stayed silent, he looked more intimidating than ive ever seen him, almost like he could explode with rage. "who the fuck do you think you're talking to?" he scoffs, but that one sentence seemed to make my heart drop. i really messed this up.

this time, i was the one who stayed quiet. he began to walk up to me slowly, taking small steps while i wanted to back away, but i froze in place. i felt terrified deep down, but i had to act normal. i took a deep breath as i swallowed, our bodies now pressed together as i was squished in between him and the wall, his face was now close to mine, almost inches apart.

"quiet now, huh?" he whispered, smirking as i felt a cold hand rest on my side, making me shiver at the contact. "you should be glad i'm not fucking this attitude out of you."

i hesitated for a moment. "what if i want you to?" my heart was practically thumping in my chest, almost like it was trying to break free. suddenly, he pressed the lower half of his body onto me more, and thats when i felt his hard bulge between my thighs. he only looked at me surprised, before that smirk began to reappear as he leaned in for a deep kiss.

"thats my girl." he pants heavily between kisses, feeling my stomach flutter while i grind myself on him, making us both more desperate for each other. "bedroom, now." he didn't have to tell me twice.

i practically sprint over to our room, nearly swinging the door off its hinges as i begin to undress, chris now locking the door before following after me soon. he throws me onto the bed, climbing behind me as he flips me onto my stomach, nearly breaking my back with the amount of pressure he was applying onto me. one hand shifted to my waist while the other was wrapped around my hair as he pulled back, lifting my head. i bit my lip to quiet my moans before feeling his tip rub up and down against my folds, slowly beginning to push into me as i gripped onto the bedsheets tightly.

i feel a gasp escape my mouth, but his hand moved down to my head as he shoved me down, now thrusting more aggressive as i felt my body shake with the amount of stimulation i was receiving. i nearly felt myself lose balance a couple times until he held me up towards his chest to stabilise me, his grip tight enough to suffocate me.

"you want to lose the attitude now?" chris speaks up, feeling his heavy breath on my neck as he was now close up to my ear. i could barely form a sentence, my mind overwhelmed with thoughts as i tried to find the right words. i could only nod, but that wasn't good enough for him. "use your words, you have a voice for a reason."

"more!" i plead, feeling the tears roll down my face. "i just want more, please- chris!" he didn't respond to me, but only laughed at how desperate and stupid i looked. he released my body, thumping back onto the bed as he shoved my face harder into the pillow, planting a harsh slap onto my ass before i yelled at the sudden sting.

seeing chris act all rough with me was a huge turn on, especially because he was attractive. i felt myself getting closer to coming as chris seemed to go faster, our skin slapping together as he did a final thrust, gripping my hips tightly as he released his semen into me, beginning to relax his pace as i shortly followed after him, soaking him in my liquids.

he collapsed down next to me, turning to his side to face me as we admired each other in silence for a couple minutes, until i remembered what actually happened beforehand.

"look, im sorry about the party thing." i sigh, trying to find his hand in the dimly lit room as i hold onto it tightly. "you were only trying to do something special for me, but you should know i don't like parties."

"i understand that, i should've got your opinion." he smiles, before continuing. "do you just want to order some food and chill for the rest of the night?"

i giggled, nodding my head before he kisses my forehead softly, wrapping his arms around me as i rest my head onto his chest, hearing the sound of his heartbeat as i close my eyes.

MASTERLIST

a/n: yall got me fucked up. when i saw some of my favourite writers began to follow me back my heart dropped to my goddamn ass. i say this every fic i post but i genuinely appreciate all of you reading my stuff, reblogging, and more! i have been seeing your requests for all the people waiting, just give me some time and ill get to it:), ill work on them over the weekend or when i have free time because work is very busy at the moment😭

[drstanfordpines]

barfing very incomplete stanford thoughts here bc i need to get them out of my brain or i’ll actually explode

hypervigilance headcanon go brrrrr (this one prob isn’t new to y’all; it’s practically canon with how he acts & seems to be popular in the ford fan community from what i’ve seen, i just want to amp it up some more. turn up that there angst dial babey!). more to this: jumpy at many things including but not limited to fast/unexpected movements, loud/unexpected sounds, etcetera.

gets really annoyed when people pronounce et cetera “exetra”.

studied latin in college. like a fucking nerd

paranoia but what if we added More. i said TURN THE DIAL UPPPPPPPPPPP

journal 3 says he is excited to hear newest eurythmics chart topper so i’m assuming he’s a fan. i want mabel to show him new music. i’m definitely going to project my music taste onto mabel. i also want him to hear WAP for the first time. i think it would be funny.

he’s either aroace or bi all around or some combination of those thangs, ie he has the same amount of attraction to all genders which is either a “normal” amount or possibly less or none (yes i am projecting. it’s called being valid and sexy). in other words: he doesn’t really understand romantic or sexual attraction and tbh he doesn’t care to. he has more nerdy important things to do. that being said he has def dated fiddleford and had a thing with bill (i feel like “dated” definitely isn’t the right term for the relationship of ford and bill. idk man i’m having thoughts at a million miles per hour rn i’ll explain later or whatever)

legitimately believed for a large portion of his life that anyone who gets close to him is either a) evil and wants to hurt him/the people he cares about OR b) inevitably going to get hurt/killed (or worse) because of what he called “the stanford effect”; basically the thought that he is Cursed™️ so he must isolate himself to save others from the effects of the curse or whatever the fuck

despite all the shit he’s been through, he does not identify as superstitious. he is first and foremost a scientist babey.

during his time in the portal, he clung onto his identity as a scientist desperately. i hc that he had to do some really fucked up shit to survive out there, and that he kept a series of field journals (or just one digital field journal would be easier probably) documenting his experiences as a way to keep himself sane (or as sane as he could be given the situation).

[a-substantial-trash-pile]

real downer mental health stuff below cut. sorry. it's been a real hard couple weeks and i need to get things out somewhere or i'll go crazy.

i just need to get my feelings written out because right now i feel like im going to explode and i can't afford therapy right now and i can't talk to any friends because i cant live with the guilt of burdening them with my problems. so this is the only way i can think of getting it out of me. but i still feel guilty even doing this so im turning reblogs off because i don't want anyone to feel like they need to provide words of comfort or anything like that. would turn off replies to this post too if i knew how to do it. i just need to get it Out.

a few weeks ago, my family had a discussion about putting our old dog down. he's deaf and blind and has dementia that's gotten much worse this year. and he isn't really "living" anymore. i'm not sure he even knows who i am anymore. and it hurts so so bad. i know it's time. but it hurts so fucking bad. i don't want to be the one to make the phone call and make the appointment and solidify the date i lose him forever, so i asked my dad if he could do it. my mom wanted to do it immediately but my dad said he would make the call after my mom's surgeries for her parkinsons that was happening this month. i know my dad doesn't want to put our dog down. the whole thing was brought up in the first place because my mom keeps bringing it up. and it makes her and my dad argue which is not what i fucking want right now. she tends to bring up the subject with my dad and i at the worst times, when im feeling especially terrible. she just had her last surgery yesterday so she brought it up again tonight. the way she brings it up has kind of really sucked for me. i was already feeling especially depressed because everything was just feeling so overwhelming today (stress from thinking about my dog and also hearing that my mom fell on her face and got hurt while i was at work). the past couple times my mom has brought up my dog with me, she's started it off by asking if i had been crying and then when i say that i was, she asks when we're putting our dog down. i don't know why she's doing it like this. i feel upset at her for doing it this way, but at the same time i feel bad for being upset at her because she has parkinson's and just had surgery. even though the surgery went well, i still feel guilty that i'm upset with her.

i couldn't give my mom a straight answer because again, i don't want to be the one to solidify the date, so i told her i'm waiting for dad to make the phone call. she said, "ok i'm going to tell dad." then i went downstairs and cried while she immediately went to tell my dad. i could hear my parents argue about it. it's not a subject my dad likes to acknowledge and my mom has been really pushy about it with him and me. i regret and feel guilty about asking my dad to make the call. i should have just sucked it up and said i would do it. i think i might have to be the one to do it. but it hurts so fucking bad.

whenever my mom talks about it with my dad, she always tries to pressure him by bringing up how sad it's making me. when she does that it feels like im being made into the main "reason" to put our dog down. that if we don't put him down as soon as possible, my mental health will keep spiraling. and yeah, im not doing great right now, but i don't want to keep hearing it brought up over and over like that. i don't want to feel like it's my fault. i know my dog needs to be put down. but i don't want to feel like it's because of me. does that make sense? is that selfish? is the amount of crying i've been doing not "normal" in this situation? it's not like i cry all day. i only do it at night and i try to hide it as best i can. i don't want my mom to see and tell me "this is why we need to put him down now." which she has done before. i don't know. it just hurts so bad.

i haven't been able to tell my mom about how she's been upsetting me. because she'll get upset about it if i do. and i feel bad for being upset in the first place. because i know in the end, these actions she's taking is because she's worried for me. she just. doesn't think things through all the time. she's always spoken before thinking. although im not sure if her parkinson's has made this habit worse. i can't remember if she's always been at this level or if this is something exacerbated by parkinson's. which makes me feel even more guilty about being upset at her. god. everything just feels fucked right now. so overwhelming. i wish i could see my therapist again, but i just can't afford that expense right now.

i've been having more nightmares. been having the stupid sleep paralysis shit. been having more frequent intrusive thoughts of driving off the bridge i go over on my commute or looking at my pills and wondering what would happen if i took everything in the bottle at once. i don't think i would ever actually act on these things, because i love my family too much to have them deal with that kind of hardship. it's just been exhausting for my brain. and some days the thoughts feel closer than others. but that's depression for you. been dealing with it for many years. this has just been one of those real bad times for it. if anyone is actually reading this, please dont worry. i know that's kind of dumb of me to say considering everything i wrote here. but really please don't worry. i just needed a place to put my thoughts and feel like i'm releasing them somehow. im still here. i've had these bad thoughts before and i'm still here. i will still be here. it'll get better. i just need to hold on again.

i just wish dogs lived longer.

[tikiface]

Since someone went and opened my fucking pandoras box of Potemkin Headcanons: MORE

Potemkin spends a lot of downtime in Zepps public parks either painting or enjoying nature, and he is a bit like a Disney princess in that he stays so still that the wildlife tends to perch or hide on him like he's a weirdly shaped tree. He's very slow, patient, and mindful, and rarely scares animals away with his movements.

He's very popular with the elderly Zeppian citizens that visit him in the parks because he is a consistent presence and enjoy how well-mannered he is. He frequently gets gifts like handmade items and baked goods from them, and they check in on what he’s painting.

Gabriel sometimes has to remind Potemkin to take more time off. He's just way too eager to keep working or even shoulder the workload of other people simply because knows he can do the work of 10 men by himself pretty easily. Has a tendency to overbook himself without thinking. Why send 20 men when he can do it himself? Gabriel has to remind him that just because he can do certain things with ease because of his gift, it doesn’t mean its his job to always be the one to do it.

Gabriel has planned and fashioned Zepps headquarters and newer public infrastructure to accommodate for Potemkins size, Like larger doors, higher ceilings, and sturdier seats in places he frequents. This also lead to more extensive accessibility infrastructure for the elderly, deaf, blind, etc as well.

Potemkins house is comically huge on the inside. everything he owns is huge to the point of being unusable to normal people, though he still insists on having tiny furniture for guests. He enjoys actually being able to cook for himself though.

He has a set of Zepp-forged unbreakable tungsten artists tools given to him by Gabriel after he became president. They are some of his most prized possessions, mostly because they are some of the first things Gabriel went out of his way to make accessible for him.

Some darker HCs

Potemkin has personally witnessed a bomb collar go off on a fellow slave trying to defect at least once. This one is vaguely hinted at by Bedmans Theatre of Pain in Xrd where he reacts by saying "Wait, Don't go! It'll explode!"

Potemkin has only been free for around 8 of the 41-ish years he's been alive. (Time between GG and Strive being 7-8 years. Apparently the only thing close to a canonical age for Pot was some beta concept page putting him at 34 in the first game.) So it's no wonder he still adjusting and has severe self worth issues.

I like to think Gabriel is between 10-20 years older than Pot. Old enough to have been in a commanding position while Pot was still a kid.

Pots limiters are actually embedded in him and at this point, are required for him to survive. Releasing them for any amount of time allows him to use his full strength but is incredibly bad for his health in the long-term.

He has to eat so fucking much just to stay calorie-neutral. He burns energy like a diesel truck and can very easily begin to starve if he's not in an environment of abundance.

He has an over-apology habit from when he had less control over his strength and accidentally broke a lot of stuff. Even worse, he has trauma from accidentally harming undeserving living beings. He treats others with extreme mindfulness and a feather-light gentleness, but to this day it still takes a huge mental toll and it exhausts him having to constantly by hyper-aware of himself for too long. This along with his introverted nature leads him to need a lot of alone time.

He feels oddly comforted by the fact that Gabriel is strong enough to easily fold him. The one person in his day-to day life he doesn’t have to worry about hurting. Someone he admires and actually challenges him.

[lover-of-mine]

I have realized what is making my head explode when a BT post accidentally goes through my tags!!!! They are completely ignoring Buck is bi. They are acting like my aunt in the early 2000s. I may not have been fond of all the LUs but they were valid relationships. If Taylor had not fucked up who knows where that relationship would have gone. I mean clearly nowhere once Eddie was out because once Eddie broke up with him he spiraled and kissed Lucy. But they are still valid relationships and at this point in time I don't see how Tommy is better than any of them. To be honest he has the worst traits of Abby and Taylor but the screen time of Ally. So frustrating.

Well, when have people ever been normal about bisexuality? But here's the thing, every relationship Buck had so far had his own set of issues that somehow have been reduced to the way he was dating women, which is fucked in so many ways and the amount of times I have to stop myself from picking a fight because of bucktaylor it's actually hysterical to me because we're seriously at a point where I need to defend the validity of Taylor's place in Buck's life. Like, how did we get here? Because here's the thing, do I think Buck and Taylor were meant to be? No. Do I think Buck would've clung to her until he literally couldn't anymore if her actions hadn't hurt his family? Absolutely. I see Buck going as far as panic proposing to her if that particular situation hadn't happened, just to have someone. Because they had chemistry and Buck kept trying to force that to become love. Taylor was wrong for Buck for a multitude of reasons, but none of those reasons were because she's a woman and Buck is gay. And the relationship with Tommy is not gonna magically last forever just because Tommy is a man. Tommy is this weird amalgamation of all of Buck's love interests with Ali/Ana levels of screentime and he doesn't magically have a fighting chance just because he has a dick and people can't seem to see this. And I think that's crazy. Because Tommy was given to us in an episode that had the theme of not recognizing people, while actively making us think it was about someone else and then they did the Kim storyline and I want to scream because people can't see the parallels. And the more I look at it the more insane I get because he's all of Buck's love interests smashed into someone who's Eddie two steps to the left with none of the things we love about him. But somehow he's perfect because he's not a woman. The only thing Tommy has going for him is not being a woman. You turn him into one and none of the things he did would fly. Letting Buck get away with physically hurting Eddie? Leaving him in the curb? Not dressing up? Making a kink joke after someone Buck loves almost died? Picture those scenes with Lucy and tell me anyone in the fandom would be shipping them. Let alone fighting for them the way people are right now. But he's a man so he gets a pass and that's so fucking weird. Evan Buckley is bisexual but getting dicked down isn't going to magically make everything perfect. Jesus.

Also, since you mentioned Eddie coming out, something that I've been thinking about since we found out it was supposed to be Eddie, a Buck who thinks he's straight finding out Eddie has a boyfriend would shortcircuit. I legit think they could not find a way to write Buck's reaction to Eddie being queer that didn't end with him figuring his feelings out so they switched things up, so Buck would for sure would've gotten there once Eddie got there because he would've had big feelings about it and Buck is not the repressed one.

[withacapitalp]

How to Rehabilitate a Jock Part 6

Part 1 Part 5. Ao3 Link Part 7

It was already the second week of December by the time the Hellfire club finally, finally, defeated the Demon Lord Graz’zt. Normally, Eddie loved when a campaign stretched and stretched. It was a devious kind of joy to get to see his friends get stumped and backtrack and do everything they could to defeat whatever he had put in front of them. 

This time, he just wanted them to stab his stupid demon in the chest, light him on fire, and be done with it. 

A thousand times he had thought about just letting them win, and just letting them get through the end of the campaign. But his integrity as a dungeon master and a storyteller stopped him from doing it every single time. 

That, and Eddie was pretty sure they would be able to tell if he was skimping out on an ending just to get to the next campaign. Especially since they all knew why he would be so anxious to get to the next campaign. 

But, last week they had done it. Right at the last second Graz’zt had exploded in a shower of red sparks, the party had gained treasure and XP galore, and Eddie had stayed up every night this week finishing a one shot just for the occasion. 

Usually there was a rest week in between campaigns, or one of the others would rotate in as DM and Eddie would get to play for a while, but he wanted to be the one to run Steve’s first game. He didn’t trust any of the others not to sabotage, or try and kill him off early. 

Besides, he had the perfect beginner game planned. 

Well, he would have the perfect beginner game if their beginner ever decided to show up. 

“Seems like being late is a character trait,” Frank said as the rest of Hellfire sat around the table, clearly bored. Jeff was doodling in his book, and Rocky looked like he was asleep on the far side, face smushed up against the wood. School had ended almost a half hour ago, but there was still no sign of Steve. 

“This does give us time for a JRP update?” Janet suggested, sliding her chair back and walking over to the board. 

“Well, the update is…wow! Nothing has changed,” Gareth said, faking a look of utter shock before sliding back into his usual grumpy scowl, turning to Eddie, “Do you really want to wait three more months just to have to admit that I am right about him?” 

“How could anything have changed so far, Gareth?” Eddie shot back, sick and tired of his best friend’s issues. 

He held up a hand and began to count on his fingers right in front of Gareth’s face. Eddie knew that the other boy hated when he did things like that, but he also knew that he really couldn’t give a flying fuck at this point. Steve was trying, really honestly trying, and Gareth was being a jerk for literally no reason. 

“We just finished our new campaign, Steve isn’t even aware of the band yet because I’m not allowed to invite him to a show, and your third ridiculous checkpoint still has no defining parameters!” Eddie finished with a flourish. 

“Well, technically you can invite Steve to a show,” Kaiden said, grabbing everyone’s attention. He shrugged, pointing to the board, “It doesn’t say that Eddie can never invite him. It just won’t count towards the JRP until Steve goes without an invitation,” 

“Kaiden, what the hell?” Gareth said, spinning around and shooting his glare over to him instead of Eddie. 

“I don’t mind Steve, Gar.” Kaiden said with a shrug, unphased by his mood. By now they were all getting used to working around Gareth’s griping, “He’s pretty chill, he can be kinda funny, and I can’t think of anything he personally did that was that bad. Maybe he really is trying to be someone different now,”

The rest of the club didn’t speak, which Eddie decided to consider an extremely minute amount of progress. Sure, they weren’t sticking up for Steve, but they weren’t actively fighting against him anymore. 

Well, all except for one

“Traitor,” Gareth muttered under his breath. 

“Hey,” Eddie immediately snapped. Gareth could be pissy with him all he wanted, but he couldn’t go after another one of Eddie’s sheep just because he was mad. 

“I agree with Kaiden, I don’t see why Eddie would be forbidden from ever inviting Steve to a show,” Janet said, tapping her chin. 

Either she was unaware of how close the boys were to actually fighting, or she was actively ignoring it in favor of staying logical. Eddie would bet all of his money on the latter. Janet really was too smart for her own good. 

“As for setting parameters for the third point, I’m not sure how we go about that,” She continued, tapping her chalk against the board as she wracked her brain for potential ideas. 

“We don’t. We’ll know it when we see it,” Gareth stubbornly repeated, crossing his arms, “Though I doubt we will. This is just a waste of time.” 

Okay. Enough was enough. 

“What is your problem with him?!” Eddie shouted, starting the rest of the group. Rocky’s head popped off the table with a gasp, and Jeff immediately stiffened up. They were used to Eddie shouting, used to him raising his voice or getting angry, but that was all play, a show. This was actual anger, and that was scary. 

“Where did your problem with him go?” Gareth said, giving as good as he got, “You used to be the first to say that they aren’t us! They’re the enemy! He is literally the face of that enemy! What happened to the Munson Doctrine?!” 

Eddie opened his mouth to tell Gareth exactly where he could stick his Munson Doctrine, but before he could, Jeff stood up. 

His shoulders were up by his ears, and he looked completely uncomfortable, but Jeff was standing up anyway. A silent look from their bassist took the wind out of both boys’ sails, and they sat back down, tense and on edge. 

“Sorry Jeff,” Eddie sighed, pushing down any potential self hatred that wanted to rise up. The two of them knew Jeff’s story, knew why he wasn’t comfortable with angry yelling close to him, and they had done it anyway. Eddie forced himself to take a deep breath, watching as Gareth did the same. 

“Yeah, sorry,” Gareth echoed, looking genuinely remorseful. 

“This isn’t productive,” Frank pointed out, rolling his chair backwards until it collided with the chalkboard next to where Janet was standing, “I think that we should settle for a compromise.  All of the club members agree that Steve can stay. That would at least be enough to be considered a renouncement of some sort, right?,”

“That’s not the same,” Gareth protested. 

“Well, seeing as you don’t have a good argument for your checkpoint,” Frank replied, trailing off and waiting to hear if he had anything else to say. When Gareth remained grumpy and silent the rest nodded. 

“Okay so, I’ll just write our initials here, and when we decide we’re okay with Steve-”

“If” Gareth interrupted. 

“Fine. If we decide that we’re okay with Steve staying, we can cross out our names,” Janet said, miffed at being talked over, but choosing to move past it in favor of keeping the peace. 

She quickly began to jot down everyone’s initials, adding Steve’s right at the top just to keep up appearances. Eddie wasn’t exactly sure how they would explain that one, but hopefully Steve wouldn’t ask. He usually didn’t question things around the room unless they were particularly outlandish. 

“I’m fine with Steve,” Eddie said the second she wrote his initials. 

“We got that one, Eds,” Jeff replied with a good natured eye roll. Now that things were calming down again, he seemed way more relaxed. Janet clicked her tongue anyway, putting a thick white line through the E.M. she had just written. 

“I don’t mind him,” Kaiden tacked on. Janet shot him a quick nod, crossing out Kaiden���s initials, and then, surprisingly, her own.

“Janet?” Frank questioned. She shrugged, pausing for a second to ruffle his hair as she continued to write. She was the only one that didn’t see the way Frank’s face went beet red the moment she touched him. 

“He’s interesting,” She said, as if that was the only explanation she needed, “I’m a scientist. I like to experiment,” 

She finished with Gareth’s ‘G.L-W.’ turning to face the group. 

“Anyone else?” 

The rest of the club shook their heads, but Eddie couldn’t care less. He was already a third of the way there! And, there was no doubt in his mind that at least a few of them were going to be impressed with Steve’s gameplay today. 

After all Steve had been taught by the best. 

“Okay so, slightly modified parameters, but-” 

“Sorry I’m late!” Steve said as he burst into the room, cutting Janet off. 

If she was annoyed at being interrupted a second time, she didn’t let it slip. Instantly, she and Frank were back in their seats, her chalk abandoned, broken in two on the ground. The entire club did their best to look perfectly innocent, a truly terrible job that left them all seeming extremely, extremely, guilty. 

The only reason they got away with it was that Steve was way too caught up in rambling and trying to explain himself. 

“I’m so sorry, I was trying to get the kids set up in the library, because they want to come to my house after school for a sleepover. Winter break, right? But then they kept asking me question after question, and wanting to come watch me shoot hoops. They never want to watch me shoot hoops! Why now?! I swear this is what I get for letting them use my house to take pictures for the Snow Ball.” Steve groaned, getting stuck in his scarf as he tried to unwind it from around his head. 

Eddie laughed softly, getting up and coming around the table, slowly helping Steve get free of his yarn filled prison. 

“Are you going to chaperone this Sunday?” Eddie asked. Instantly his mind was filled with the image of Steve in a handsome black suit, a dark red rose sitting in his lapel and perfectly complimenting his ruby lips. 

Okay. File that under ‘Things Eddie was never allowed to think about again except when alone in his bedroom’. 

“Definitely not. I’m a babysitter, not a chaperone,” Steve said with a smirk, “I’ll let them get ready at my place and have a little after party there, and that should stop them from being arrogant whiny brats for a little while. Hope I didn’t miss anything though,” 

Just the rest of the club talking about using him as a human lab rat. 

“Nope,” Eddie lied smoothly, pulling Steve’s chair out for him and making a huge grand gesture for him to come sit. 

“Welcome to this side of the table,” Kaiden said from his seat across from Steve. Normally Gareth sat on Eddie’s right side, but since the first meeting that Steve had joined, his best friend had regulated himself to the corner as far from Eddie as he could get. 

Whatever. That was better anyway. Eddie didn’t care. 

(He cared so much more than he wanted to admit.) 

“Glad to be here?” Steve said, pulling out the folder Eddie had given him for all of his character sheets and looking around the group nervously. 

He didn’t have anything to worry about. Eddie had helped him to build a totally awesome persona. 

“It’s hell,” Frank sighed solemnly, patting Steve’s shoulder. 

“Hellfire,” Eddie corrected, the rest of the group groaning at his bad pun. He waved off their lack of appreciation for his fantastic word play, perching on his throne and raising a hand. 

“I would like to take a moment to recognize that this is a special occasion. We are here to celebrate the birth of Steve’s very first Dungeons and Dragons character,” Eddie said, pausing so the rest could react appropriately. 

Sure enough there was a round of foot stomping and table slapping. Steve startled at the noise, but quickly recovered, blushing, but still staring directly at Eddie with those big beautiful browns. 

God damn this brave, lovely, completely adorable boy. 

“May I introduce the former Prince of the realm, Level One Human Ranger Stefan of Herringtown. Stefan, Welcome to Hellfire,” Eddie said, pausing to give Steve a secretive wink and loving the way that the blush on the other boy’s cheeks traveled to his ears when he did. 

Stefan was, arguably, a pretty cool first time character. Steve lingered just on the edge of being a paladin, but he had enough chaotic energy that Ranger seemed to fit him better. He was a loyal to a fault kind of guy who had a habit for picking up strays, a smooth quick talking charm that tended to get him in and out of trouble, and a chip on his shoulder from being exiled from his kingdom. 

In short, he was Steve, but dungeons and dragonsified. Perfect for the first play through. 

With that settled, Eddie rolled his shoulders, settling himself into his dungeon master character and taking a long breath in. 

“Your party is starting off trekking across the frozen tundra,” He began, feeling the mood shift to excitement as the rest prepared themselves for his opener, “Your feet are freezing, and your fingers have gone numb, but you continue on anyway. You have heard tale of an abandoned factory at the highest point of the world- a place littered with treasures and everything a being could ever ask for. You want to see the place for yourselves, and maybe even loot some of the booty.” 

Rocky gave a vicious grin at this, chuckling softly to himself. His tiefling rogue was always looking to horde more treasure, and Rocky loved to get into character as quickly as he could. It was fun, it added something to the game. 

“You see a building and hurry closer, eager to get out of the biting frost. It is a dark unnatural place with high smoke stacks and mounds of coal sitting all around the entrance. You enter as one without thinking or stopping to check your surroundings, collapsing on the other side and panting to catch your breath. What is your first move, Goren the Great?” Eddie asked, starting on the far side of the table. 

Even if he and Gareth weren’t on the best of terms right now, Eddie still wouldn’t want to start a campaign with any other player. It just wouldn't feel right. 

“I do a perception check,” Gareth decided. Eddie nodded towards his d8, and Gareth grabbed it, throwing down a seven. 

“As a dwarf, you have spent many years hunting through mines for precious gems, so your ability to see in the dark is unparalleled. You can see strange boot shaped bags all around the room, and boxes that are wrapped with twine bows,” He said, watching as their brains began to spin with possibilities.

This was the best part. Watching his players try to figure out exactly what was going on around them was just so fun. 

“Well, I have a feeling we may have stumbled upon the right place. I can see treasure from corner to corner,” Gareth remarked, throwing his voice into a growling rumble, perfect for his hardened grizzled character. 

“I can’t see anything,” Jeff complained, getting into it. 

"That's because you are a stupid elf, and your stupid elf eyesight only works in the day,” Gareth replied, both of them holding back laughter. 

“How dare you?! You, you…tiny little man!” 

And then they were off, back and forth insults that were cheesy, yet sometimes creative. The club watched in amusement. Even Steve was snickering, and he normally tried to pretend he didn’t exist when it had anything to do with Gareth. Usually Eddie would try and focus the group back in, but he was happy to let them banter for a little while. 

This was the kind of fighting they should be doing. This was the Gareth Eddie knew, and getting to see that that guy was still somewhere in this new person was very comforting. 

“I am through with your impertinent conclusions,” Jeff huffed in mock exasperation, keeping his voice high and flighty as he did, “I am ready to take my turn, master of the game.” 

“Very well,” Eddie said, inclining his head and waiting to hear. 

“I open my bag and get out a torch, but I want to hit Goren with my bag as I do it,” Jeff said, the rest of the group immediately bursting into laughter.

“Roll 2 d8. One for hitting him, and one for how much light the torch is going to give you,” Eddie instructed, biting his lip to hide his smile. Jeff let the dice fly, getting an eight and a two respectively. 

“As you pull out your torch, you smack Goren right in the face with your bag. Goren loses one hit point,” Eddie said, making a note on his paper. 

“Ow!” 

“Oh, I am sooo sorry that was completely unintentional.” Jeff gasped sarcastically, holding a hand against his heart and raising his eyes to the sky. 

“Goren does not believe you, but he will hold his anger for later,” Eddie said, sliding in smoothly before another ‘argument’ could take place, “You light your torch, but the draft coming in through the broken windows makes the flame flicker and shrink. You can just see the edge of an image drawn on the wall,” 

“I want to examine the drawing,” Kaiden jumped in. 

“June Iper it is not your turn,” Eddie replied, referring to Kaiden by his character’s name. If they were doing things their normal way, then it would be Kaiden’s turn, but as it was, it was time for Rocky to go. 

Kaiden grumbled to himself, then sat up straight. He and Rocky made eye contact for a brief second before quickly scrambling to switch seats. 

“Now it is my turn,” Kaiden said, his head held high in victory. Eddie rolled his eyes but allowed it to slide, just happy that the two freshman boys were having a good time. He let Kaiden roll and then continued on, eager to get to the entrance of the main enemy. 

“You snatch the torch out of Boz’s hand, scampering up to the wall and holding it as high as you can, which isn’t very high at all,” Eddie pointed out. Kaiden’s character was a gnome, and Eddie never missed a chance to make a short joke at their expense, “The rest of the party can only see what looks like a chariot being dragged by cloven hoofed beasts.” 

“Wait a second,” Janet said, her face lighting up in realization. She turned to Eddie with her eyes narrowed, and he schooled himself into a completely innocent expression. 

“Yes Miss Ngyet?” He asked innocently, having a feeling she had already guessed where this one shot was going. 

“I take the torch from June so we can see better,” 

“Is there normally this much torch stealing?” Steve asked softly as Janet rolled, quirking his head to the side as he gave Eddie a raised brow. Before Eddie could respond, Frank interrupted. 

“Hey, you’re on our side now,” Frank said, nudging their arms together, “Ask us your questions,”

“Oh, sorry,” Steve apologized, turning towards Frank. 

Behind Steve’s back, Eddie gave Frank a grateful little smile. Sure, he was probably only being nice to Steve right now because Janet had said she was okay with him, but Eddie would take any kind of progress. Frank gave Eddie a short nod, and they settled back into their roles, continuing the game. 

“With Miss Ngyet’s extra height you can all see the full mosaic. Gasping in horror you finally recognize the picture you’re looking at. A man dressed in robes that are bathed in blood, a stampede of reindeer pulling his sledge. All at once the lights turn on in the factory, blinding you. There’s an ominous laughter from behind. Ho. Ho. HO.” Eddie roared. 

More light bulbs around the room as Jeff and Frank both caught on. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Jeff sighed, putting his face in his hands to muffle his laughter. Eddie grabbed the mini figure sitting in front of him, standing up and beginning the monologue he had practiced in front of the mirror all week. Wayne had nearly forced him to go outside to do it after the first few days of never ending repetition. 

“Your foe! A man turned God who knows the name of every child in the world, and watches endlessly. This God, who was once a benevolent overlord, loved to shower gifts upon those he deemed good, giving gentle reminders to those he saw being bad. Now he feasts upon the ‘Naughty’ alongside his favorite meal of milk and cookies,” Eddie ominously lowered his voice, coming to stand between Steve and Frank. 

Steve leaned backwards and turned his head. Frank did the same. 

“Is this what I think it is?” Steve whispered behind Eddie. 

“Yes,” Frank whispered back. 

“The demonous, the dastardly, the fat…” 

Eddie thrust the minifigure down onto the table, standing back as he hollered at the top of his lungs. 

“KRIS KRINGLE!” 

Eddie had been absolutely, completely, 100%, right. 

This was an epic one shot. 

After their initial reactions to finding out they were doing battle against Santa of all people, the rest of the club dove into the campaign with glee. Eddie had taken care to create an awesome story filled to the brim with little easter eggs, and they were eating up every bit of it. 

There were hypnotically enslaved elves, blood thirsty reindeer, exploding candy canes, even a section where the party had to sing Christmas songs to escape from a platoon of killer carolers.

Yeah he was biased, but Steve’s giggly rendition of WHAM’s new hit song was the best thing Eddie had ever heard in his life. 

Speaking of, the biggest shock of the game had to be how well Steve was doing. Eddie had honestly expected to have to subtly take it a little easy on him, but the jock was turning out to be one of the trickiest players he had ever gone up against. 

Sure, the math and the writing portion was a bit of a hiccup, but Steve’s strategic thinking was unexpectedly excellent, and he seemed to have a knack for survival. He had quickly made himself an invaluable player, and the rest had accepted him into the fold, if only for now. 

And the best part of it all was how much fun Steve was having. The smile on his face was bright, utterly joyful in a way Eddie had only seen once years ago. He had seen Steve smile plenty since then, but it was always quiet, kind of hidden away, like he was scared to show how much he was enjoying himself. 

But this was just…happy. Pure, clear, happy, with nothing standing in its way, and Eddie was drinking in the sight like a man in a desert who had found an oasis. 

After a grueling four hours, Hellfire had finally managed to kill off the final reindeer (Vixen had gone down in a blaze of glory) and release all of the elves from their mind manacles. 

There was just one foe left. 

“As the not-so-jolly man with a bag gently lays his last beast on the ground, he looks up at you all with complete rage in his eyes,” Eddie said in a hushed tone, letting things get as quiet as possible before exploding into sound.

“Naughty! You are All on my naughty list!” Eddie declared, slapping his hand on the table before standing and reaching over his binder to point, “You! And You! And You! And-” 

“Steve?”

Eddie paused mid monologue, his finger still hovering in the air directed at Janet. All of them turned around as one, facing their new intruder. 

Little Red was in the doorway, staring back at them with big eyes. A mischievous grin quickly overtook her face and she opened the door wide, crossing her arms and smugly jutting her chin out at her babysitter.

“Shooting hoops, huh?” 

“Max? Why are you here? Where are the boys?” Steve asked, quickly getting up from the table and coming to her side. The anxiety coloring his tone was unexpected, and Eddie felt himself wilt a little as all of Steve’s walls seemed to have pulled back up in a snap. 

��Down the hall. We’re fine,” Max said, quickly reassuring him and dropping her act. Steve relaxed for a second, but then stiffened once more as she peeked her head around his side. She waved, and the rest of the group waved back. 

“Shooting hoops,” She repeated, raising a brow, “You know, Steve, I’ve never played basketball, but it looks a lot more like Dungeons and Dragons than I expected it too,”

“How long have you known?” Steve sighed.

“That you were lying?” Max asked for clarification, “The whole time. You’re a bad liar, and Billy just couldn’t shut up about how you were benched from playing, and he was going to be the one leading the team now. I wasn’t expecting you to be doing this though. I thought you were meeting up with a girl.” 

“I’ll pay you real money to not tell the others,” Steve said, completely serious. 

Max tapped on her chin, a move that was so reminiscent of Janet that Eddie had to stifle a laugh. He didn’t want to call any attention to himself right now, too invested in seeing how this would all play out. 

“How much?” She asked, giving him a shrewd eye. 

“Five bucks?” Steve offered, sounding slightly desperate. 

Max hummed, making faces as she pretended to consider it. 

“Not enough,” She finally decided with a cute little shrug, sticking her head into the hallway and shouting for the boys to come. 

A stampede of footsteps and hollering began in the distance and Steve groaned, shooting Max a look of utter betrayal before turning to pout at Eddie. 

“Lord, help me,” Steve sighed. 

“Nay, I shan't. Lord Kringle has deemed you naughty, Stefan, there is no hope for you now,” Eddie replied, shaking his head. Steve did not seem at all amused by this, but the rest of the club was chuckling, exchanging wry little grins. 

“Oh, are we about to meet Harrington’s famous children?” Kaiden wondered aloud, already knowing the answer. 

“Don’t,” Steve warned with zero heat in his voice, seemingly already resigned to what was about to happen. He was rubbing at his temple, his eyes shut with a look of pure exhaustion on his face. 

Max patted him twice on the arm before coming over to look at the board, looking over Steve’s character sheets with glee. 

“Hey Little Red,” Eddie said. 

“Hi, Steve’s friend,” She replied with a smirk, “You guys are gonna have fun watching this,” 

Before anyone could ask what she meant, a veritable horde of boys burst into the room. They were once again all talking over each other, but this seemed to just be the way the boys communicated. Dustin, Lucas, and Mike all stayed crowded around Steve yelling at him, while Will began to look around. 

Max quietly whistled, jerking her head and catching Will’s attention. He obediently trotted over, and she showed him what she had found, both of them exchanging quiet whispers that even Eddie couldn't make out over the other kids shouting. 

“Why are you not in the library?” Steve griped, managing to raise his voice above theirs. 

“We finished our campaign and got bored. You’re taking forever, we’re hungry, and we want to see El,” Mike whined, crossing his arms and glaring at his babysitter. 

“What are you doing anyway?” Dustin asked, trying to look around Steve.

“Nothing,” Steve said quickly, pushing Dustin’s head back in front of him, “Get out. I’ll come get you guys in like an hour, or you can walk back to your own houses,”

“Who are they?” Lucas wondered, ignoring Steve’s minor threat. Everyone in the room already knew how hollow it was, “This is definitely not the gym,” 

Eddie was sure Steve had some sort of excuse, something he had cooked up to explain why he was here, but he was not eager to hear it. Sure, Eddie understood why Steve might have wanted to have something that was ‘just his’ (or, at least, he respected it), but the rest of the club wouldn’t. They would definitely think Steve was trying to hide the fact that he knew them, and that would reinforce everything Gareth was saying. 

No matter what, this was not going to go down well, and would probably erase any progress that had been made. 

Luckily for both of them, Will Byers decided that this was the moment to speak up. 

“Steve?” Will said, catching everyone’s attention, “Are you…playing DnD?”

Tension thick as a thousand page novel blanketed them all. Dustin gasped in an extremely melodramatic fashion, and Mike blew past Steve, storming over and slamming his hands down on the table, making all of the figures tremble. Steve seemed lost for words, turning back to give Eddie a ‘help me’ look of terror. 

So, Eddie did what he did best. 

He caused a little chaos. 

“Why yes, young small one, he is playing Dungeons and Dragons,” Eddie said with a tricky grin, loving the explosion of mayhem that came right after, 

Tag List: @paopaupaus @zerokrox-blog @surferboyzaza @whatever-is-a-good-name @minjintea @addelyin @5ammi90 @hagbaby420 @shinekocreator @bornonthesavage @starxlark @electrick-marionnett @resident-gay-bitch @ash-a-confused-enby @classicdinosaurdeathpose @valon-whomsttf @rotten-lil-goblin @thereindeerlady @love-ya-kash @kerlypride @sparkle-fiend @thefreakandthehair @flowercrowngods @milf-harrington @sadcanadianwinter @gothbat99 @hotcocoaharrington @henderdads @lightwoodbanethings @colorful565 @h0n3y-dw @craterbbox @sourw0lfs @lesliiieeeee @bidisastersworld @tinynebula @ravnlinn @bonescaro @mexmatch @cottagecoredreams @joruni @hellykelly @maegan1116 @farewell-wanderlvst @desertfern @due-to-the-fact-that-im-a-slut @anythingforourmoonyedits @eerielake @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @sidekick-hero

[msnihilist]

for the darkship bingo I have to ask for the obligatory rickorty and/or maxvid or else I will explode (- @asperfern)

For the dark ship bingo.

Here is my bingo choices for Maxvid!!

This bingo sheet makes them seem almost vanilla 😭 They aren't violent, they're fucked up in other ways!! "They deserve each other" is meant positively, btw.

As for Rickorty....

Much closer to getting a bingo on this one! My basis for "they could make each other so much worse" is that I think Morty is a fucked up little creep who enables Rick, and I love him for that.

I think representations of their relationship where Morty is a victim in all of it are not entirely true. He definitely was in the beginning, but Rick has done a really good job at grooming this kid. I think Rick would be incapable of loving Morty if he was just another one of his victims.

And just because I know you're a fan of Irrational Attachments, I will include a snippet for an upcoming chapter (that I will probably never get around to finishing, whoops)!

_______________________

"C-Cut the bullshit. I asked your little messenger boy "how much?" and haven't gotten a fucking ansURPwer yet," he snapped impatiently. 

“Prices vary depending on who you select,” Chávez said matter-of-factly, all business now that they were talking about money. He set his hand on the small of Rick’s back, and Rick had to resist the urge to put a bullet through his forehead for that alone. “The pretty ones cost more, you understand. Higher demand. Have you been with a Morty before?”

“No,” Rick grit out through clenched teeth.

Chávez chuckled, patting Rick’s back before letting his hand drop. “Then, for you, it’s half off.”

If there was one thing that Rick knew about himself, it was that if something seemed too good to be true, it definitely was. He scowled. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch.” Chávez held his hands up in mock surrender. He quirked his unibrow, smug. “I just know that you’ll be back. They always are.” He gestured around the room. “Pick one before I change my mind and rescind my generosity.” 

“Fine.” Rick jerked his thumb at the most normal-looking Morty — the one with the scar who had led him down here. “Him.”

The Morty looked taken aback. ���I don’t—” He started to say, and was cut off when Chávez set a hand on his shoulder, squeezing hard enough to make Morty wince.

“Fifty tamerbons for an hour,” Chávez said, not so much as glancing at Morty.

Rick rolled his eyes. “Jesus, and that’s half off? This place is a fuckin’ rip off,” he grumbled, but reached into his lab coat. He counted the amount out of his wallet, making a show of it like that wasn’t money Rick used to wipe his ass with.

Chávez didn’t hesitate to snatch it from him once Rick extended his hand. He counted out the amount a second time, then nodded, satisfied. “Show him to an open room, sweetheart,” he ordered, smacking Morty on the ass. 

The Morty winced, but didn't make a sound. He started walking, and Rick followed.

[suzukiblu]

Heyyyyy, who wants the expanded excerpt of that one WIP of mine with transfemme!Kon, two glorious and terrible Amazons, and familial soulmates that's behind this here read-more?? (( tw: internalized misgendering, unintentional misgendering ))

Kon just saved Lex Luthor's life, so that's kind of weird and unfortunate. Like, he's perfectly aware that Kal would've wanted him to do that and would've done it himself if he hadn't been too busy bashing on the robot minions of the latest morally dubious AI to need dropkicked out of Metropolis, but also now the whole stupid world is gonna know he's the kind of dumbass who wastes time saving Lex Luthor. 

Specifically, wastes time saving Lex Luthor in the middle of a situation that has at least an eighty-five percent chance of being Lex Luthor's own goddamn fault, just to really rub it in.  

Look, somebody had to have programmed that morally dubious AI. 

Kon can't even enjoy the fact that Luthor's currently knocked out on the ground and both of the dude's super-hot and allegedly Amazonian bodyguards are on top of him. And considering that the one's all buttoned up in a sexy chauffeur uniform with semi-sheer stockings and the other's wearing a black minidress and strappy gold stilettos under a trenchcoat, and that they're both at least six feet tall and built like, again, actual Amazons, that is a lot to not be enjoying. 

. . . although actually, he can't help but notice, they're weirdly not his type despite the fact that they're both absolutely gorgeous and also the fact that he pretty much just described the stars of at least the last three pornos he watched. 

Very weird, Kon thinks, then attempts to get out from underneath said porn star bodyguards. The chauffeur-looking one–Mercy, he thinks her name is–cuffs him upside the head, then pulls out a gun that he cannot even imagine where she was hiding and takes aim at the nearest robot. 

"Quit wriggling, brat, you'll throw off my aim," she orders, and then starts firing. 

"Aren't you supposed to be a fucking Amazon?" Kon demands incredulously. Since when the fuck do Amazons use guns? Since when is that a thing? 

"I am also not too stupid to see the benefits of high-velocity rounds," Mercy replies dryly without missing a shot. Every robot she hits immediately explodes. There is literally no reason a normal handgun should be causing that reaction, so Kon's just gonna assume that's not actually a normal handgun. 

"Always with the high-velocity rounds," the other bodyguard–Hope, Kon's pretty sure?–snorts as she strips off her trenchcoat and reveals a truly improbable amount of absolutely flawless muscle packed into that skintight minidress that Kon, again, finds bizarrely just . . . not hot, somehow? And neither is Mercy's narrow-eyed look of concentration or the fact that they're both still on top of him. 

Maybe he's coming down with something. 

Admittedly, he's pretty sure they're only on top of him to keep him pinned down to be a useful meat-shield for their currently unconscious boss's much less invulnerable body, but Kon has found people who were repeatedly bashing him in the face with an I-beam or just straight-up about to murder him hot, so . . . yeah, definitely coming down with something. There's really no other explanation. 

"Hmmm," Mercy says, eyeing the swarming robots that are very aggressively beelining for their position. Like, these robots are way too interested in their position for this whole stupid situation to not in some way be Luthor's fault, in Kon's opinion. "We need to clear some space." 

"Then you should've packed a bigger gun," Hope says dubiously, dropping her trenchcoat on Kon's head. 

"Fuck's sake," Kon mutters, then flattens his hands against the pavement, grabs every robot he can reach at once with his TTK, and rips them all to pieces in one burst. 

It's not easy, but he at least nails a pretty respectable amount of them, so he's got that much. And also, like, about a hundred-yard radius without anything that's trying to murder them in it. So that's nice. 

". . . huh," Hope says, tilting her head. 

"You're welcome," Kon snipes. "Can I get up now?" 

"No," Hope says as a fresh wave of robots rushes them. "Do it again." 

"Whatever," Kon mutters, but he does. He's got better shit to do right now than argue with alleged Amazons of unexplained origins. Taking out as many damn robots as possible, specifically. 

"That's convenient," Hope observes, inexplicably dropping a hand onto the back of Kon's neck and squeezing . . . approvingly, actually? "Good job, kid." 

And that, bafflingly, still doesn't do anything to his dick. 

Okay, so he's probably actively dying of radiation poisoning from, like, some kind of new stealth kryptonite that Luthor has in his pocket or whatever. Luthor would absolutely be the asshole to have stealth kryptonite in his pocket right now, ungrateful prick that he is. 

Kon really doesn't have time to be worrying about that right now, though, so he just grabs another group of robots with his TTK and does what comes naturally as Mercy keeps firing at the ones in the air overhead and Hope keeps her hand on the back of his neck. It . . . still isn't doing anything to him? 

Except it sort of is, just . . . not in a way that makes sense. 

Kon really doesn't have time for this. 

Mercy reloads her handgun. Hope squeezes the back of Kon's neck again. Rubs the pad of her thumb across his pulse, the gesture more absentminded than anything else. 

Kon feels weird. 

Then he rips apart every single fucking robot left on the ground. 

Which is . . . a lot of robots. 

Like. Way, way more robots than he actually should've been able to get a grip on. Or even reach. 

"Uh," Kon says, blinking stupidly. 

"Damn convenient," Hope says, then gives his neck a neat little pat of appreciation before dropping her hand away. Kon does not examine the part of himself that misses it, mostly because said part has literally nothing to do with his libido and he just can't make that fact make sense. "Mr. Luthor? You with us?" 

"Not at the moment, no," Luthor mutters from the pavement, pushing himself up carefully and dusting his suit off with a mildly annoyed expression, like they're not currently in the middle of a half-destroyed city block while innumerable robot minions and Kal and Kara are all throwing down in the sky overhead. "Hn. Is there a reason the two of you are perched on one of Superman's pet teenagers? The more annoying one, even?" 

"Convenient bullet-catcher," Mercy replies dismissively, shooting down a couple more of the aerial robots. 

"Also surprisingly obedient," Hope muses. 

"Asshole, I literally just saved your life and fucked up half an army of shitty robots to keep it saved, and as for you two, I did your fucking jobs for you, and all three of you are all gonna be shitheads to me about it?" Kon demands in exasperation. "Seriously?" 

"Seems like a reasonable source of entertainment for the afternoon," Luthor says, idly watching Mercy shoot down a few more of the airborne robots. "Given that Superman's being inconsiderately dull and not getting himself punched nearly hard enough." 

"Let me the fuck up already," Kon says flatly. 

"Oh, that hit was a slight improvement," Luthor says musingly as he gets to his own feet and finishes dusting himself off, clearly far more interested in watching Kal get knocked around by the aerial robots than anything else. Kon flips him off on principle. Mercy pistol-whips him for it. It doesn't really hurt, which bemuses him enough to lay off the rude hand gestures. She's an Amazon, probably. Almost definitely. Either way, she definitely could've made that actually hurt. 

So that's weird. 

Actually a lot of weird has been happening in this whole stupid interaction, really, which is what Kon gets for saving fucking Lex Luthor's life. 

Something explodes really loudly in the distance, which is probably the command center that Steel was supposed to be dealing with because all the remaining robots jerk violently and then drop out of the sky like rocks all at once and crash into the ground. Which–thank fuck. 

"Hm," Mercy says, holstering her gun as she glances around the smashed-up street and finally gets off Kon. "We might actually make your three o'clock, Mr. Luthor." 

"Unfortunate, given that I'm fairly certain my three o'clock is good ol' Brucie Wayne," Luthor says dryly. Hope gets up too and, absolutely inexplicably, offers Kon a hand up. He's so fucking bemused that he actually takes it, and she pulls him to his feet. "That man is absolutely unbearable." 

"Mmm, I don't know, Hope and I usually find Mr. Wayne good for a bit of afternoon delight," Mercy drawls, sounding amused. 

"Ew," Kon mutters reflexively as he lets go of Hope's hand and makes a face. Then he wonders what the fuck kind of kryptonite that stealth kryptonite is, because picturing two dangerous and gorgeous Amazons making a sandwich out of a slutty Gothamite playboy shouldn't be making him say "ew". Like, that is very literally the last thing that should ever be making him say "ew". Ever. 

Seriously, what the fuck. 

Luthor looks back over at them. 

And then he frowns. 

"Hope," he says. "Mercy." 

"Yes, sir?" Hope asks. 

"What the hell are those?" Luthor says. 

Hope and Mercy frown too. Then they look at each other. Look each other over. And . . . pause. 

"Oh," Hope says. 

"What the fuck," Mercy says. 

Kon has no idea what they're all frowning about, but whatever. An annoyed supervillain and his annoyed bodyguards are not his also-annoyed problem, at least not as long as they're not actively trying to murder Kal or blow up Metropolis or whatever. He's just gonna go make sure everybody he actually gives a shit about is okay, and then get back to–

Hope and Mercy's frowns deepen, and then they both flick their eyes towards him. 

"Bullshit," Mercy says, her eyes narrowing. 

"What, do you think it was one of the drones?" Hope asks dubiously, raising an eyebrow. 

"He's a damn man," Mercy says accusingly. "Worse, a damn boy!" 

"Excuse you?" Kon says, bristling reflexively. He's technically eighteen, okay? Or at least the rough equivalent of eighteen, whatever. 

"I will say, not quite what I pictured for either of your types," Luthor says, looking Kon over with an unimpressed expression. 

Oh, gross. 

"Annnnnd I'm out," Kon says firmly as he lifts off the ground, because Lex Luthor just checked him out and he needs to go gag now. And like, scrub the entire memory from his brain. 

Hope grabs his shoulder and shoves him back down onto his feet. 

"You're our soulmate, kid," she says matter-of-factly. Kon . . . blinks. 

"The fuck?" he says, and Hope points down at herself. He looks. There's a soulmark wrapped halfway around her right thigh, which is . . . weird, actually, because he doesn't remember her having a soulmark there earlier, especially not such a big and flashy one, and . . . 

What the fuck, Kon thinks. He looks over at Mercy and sees the exact same soulmark showing through her stockings in the exact same place on her own thigh. He doesn't remember seeing it there before either. 

It's . . . well, it's a soulmark, he guesses. It's gold–like, several different shades of gold, but all of them metallic and gleaming. He can see the shine of the mark even through Mercy's stockings. It looks like a mosaic of a stylized sun, all intricate rays and bright circles and interlocking shapes, and it takes up a hell of a lot of real estate, going all the way from just above their knees to who knows how high up under their skirts. It's . . . well, it's pretty. 

Actually, it's beautiful, and Kon kind of wants to touch it. To touch both of them, more specifically, ideally at the same time. 

And still not in the pervy way. 

So that's a bad sign, definitely. 

"Take your pants off," Mercy orders impatiently. 

"How about 'hell no'?" Kon says, because yeah he has literally no sense of shame or self-consciousness but Luthor was just eyeballing him like a weirdo and he very much does still want to go make sure nobody he gives a shit about got fucked up by a morally dubious robot or anything. And like–okay, fine, apparently he has soulmates and apparently those soulmates are both drop-dead gorgeous Amazons, but like . . . he doesn't actually give a fuck right now, and also they both work for Lex Luthor, so that kinda doesn't bode well for any kind of long-term relationship or whatever anyway? Like, this is very much about to be another Knockout scenario. Knockout in stereo, even. 

Ugh.

"I said take your pants off," Mercy repeats in annoyance. 

"Again, hell no," Kon tells her. 

Mercy grabs for his belts. Kon dodges her. 

"Hey!" he says. Mercy glowers at him. Hope folds her arms. 

"It's obviously him, Mercy," she says with a sigh. "We haven't touched anyone else but each other and Lex in at least an hour, and any of us would've triggered a mark long before now." 

"He's a child," Mercy bites off. 

"I'm eighteen, kind of!" Kon protests indignantly. If he had to forcibly lose sixteen-odd years of his natural lifespan, at least people could fucking acknowledge him as a fucking adult. Like, is that too much to ask?

"You're two," Luthor says dryly. "'Kind of'." 

"Oh, fuck you," Kon snaps, scowling at him and also not sure how he feels about the fact that the fucking weirdo actually knows how old he is. Like, why the fuck does he know that? 

"A literal child," Mercy says witheringly. "A literal child is our literal soulmate. In a V-shaped triad, of all things!" 

Honestly, if somebody'd told Kon half an hour ago that he had two soulmates and said soulmates were a pair of smoking hot older women dressed like professional escorts who could both kick his ass due to being unconfirmed Amazons, and he was the focal point of their V-shaped triad? He would have very literally needed to go have a lie-down until he recovered enough to get some bloodflow back to his brain. And it would've had to be a very, very long lie-down. 

Right now, though, it's just like . . . a thing, he guesses. A very weird thing that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, as far as he's concerned. 

"Well, he'll mature," Hope says resignedly. "Theoretically." 

"Oh, that's a turn-on," Mercy snorts. 

"Look, whatever, I'm not into you two either but I'm not being a prick about it, am I?" Kon says in exasperation, folding his arms. 

The other three all pause. Then they all turn their heads to look at him. 

"You're not?" Luthor says, sounding mystified. "What, neither of them?" 

"Not that it's any of your damn business, but no," Kon says, wondering what his life has come to that he's actually answering the asshole supervillain right now. 

". . . you know, you could just come out to Superman, it's not actually necessary to so aggressively pretend to be straight," Luthor says dryly, raising an eyebrow at him. Kon, again, wonders how and why this weirdo knows anything about him, much less enough to have an opinion about his sexual orientation and the way he expresses it. "I mean, you'll have to put up with him 'validating your identity' every five minutes, I'm sure, but he isn't going to disown you or whatever nonsense you're expecting." 

"I'm bi, asshole, and I am out to Superman," Kon says in exasperation. Who, admittedly, did kind of spend a couple months validating his identity every five minutes after he came out to him, but that's neither here nor there. "It's possible to just not be into someone." 

"But you're not into either of them," Luthor says, eyes narrowing in consideration. "And they're your soulmates." 

". . . oh gods," Mercy says in horrified realization, putting her hands over her face and staring at Kon through her splayed fingers. "Hope. Hope, are we fucking parents?!" 

". . . huh," Hope says, tilting her head. 

Kon blinks at both of them. Then stares at both of them. 

"Are you high?" he says incredulously. "There is literally no damn way!" 

"Really? Because it'd be one thing if you weren't sexually attractive to either of them yet," Luthor says, still eyeing him assessingly. "You're barely past jailbait, physiologically speaking, and that's frankly being generous. But neither of them is sexually attractive to you?" 

"It's possible to just not be into someone!" Kon protests again. "That doesn't mean they're my moms, for fuck's sake! It could just be, I don't know, platonic or something! Or a sibling bond!" 

Not that those options aren't just as weird and doomed as a romantic bond would be, obviously, but at least they'd make more sense than a parental one would. 

"Amazons only get sister bonds, brat," Mercy says dubiously, which Kon guesses makes sense but also makes him feel a little–never mind. Never mind how it makes him feel. 

He doesn't like how it makes him feel, though. For reasons that he's just . . . not ever gonna examine. 

Ever. 

"Yeah, well, last I heard nobody ever proved you two were real Amazons anyway," he snaps back defensively, clenching his fists at his sides. 

"It's adorable that you think we care what anyone else thinks," Mercy snorts, rolling her eyes. 

Kon very literally cannot imagine just not caring what anyone else thinks to that degree. Like–not ever. 

Must be nice, though.

[edosianorchids901]

Shatter

@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt - "you never cared"

Cw: anger, sensory overload, alcohol

Rome, 41 AD

Crowley had, somewhat naively, hoped that things were looking up. He’d always enjoyed spending time with Aziraphale, after all. An evening of oysters and alcohol sounded like just the thing to fix whatever was wrong with him.

Only, it hadn’t fixed it. Sure, for about five minutes he was closer to happy as they talked and drank together. But then the storm clouds rolled back in, and the bristling tension inside him had only gotten worse.

He tried taking deep breaths. He tried getting even more drunk. He tried telling himself that he was being ridiculous, and should just relax and enjoy having someone who would put up with him when he was this irritable.

It didn’t work. Instead of getting less irritable, he was getting more. A lot more. More to the point where he wasn’t sure he could keep it in anymore.

And Aziraphale. Kept. Talking.

Normally, that was fine. He liked listening to Aziraphale talking. Enthusiasm was great, and no one did enthusiasm like Aziraphale. Normally, it made him feel less alone.

Today, Crowley wanted Aziraphale, the other diners, and the whole of Earth to shut the fuck up and let him have two seconds of fucking peace.

A steady march of profanity had started up in his head a while ago. He couldn’t manage to switch it off. It didn’t help with the overload, except that it did in some way. Like it was releasing a little bit of the pressure.

But not enough. The pressure was still building, an explosion of panicked rage burning in his chest. Every single noise stoked the flames higher, pushed him further towards a supernova.

The clamor of the other diners rose, laughter from another group.

Crowley twitched. It was fine, nothing to get upset about…

“Oh, and then,” Aziraphale started, “the man said—”

“I don’t care,” Crowley snapped.

He hadn’t meant to say it. But his whole body shook with the overload. Everything needed to stop.

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed. “You don’t care?”

“No.” Dizzy, Crowley shoved to his feet. The whole restaurant pressed in, crushing him. “Just… stop. I can’t handle you talking more.”

The furrows in Aziraphale’s brow deepened. “You never cared. About me taking before, I mean. You always seemed to like—”

“Just…” Quaking, Crowley held up a hand. “Just shut up! Give me two fucking seconds of quiet!”

Then, before he could blow up, he fled. The quaking was only getting worse, agitation eating him alive. He couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t stop the mounting explosion.

No amount of steady breaths or calm self-talk helped. He just kept heating up, reaching the boiling point.

It was overflowing now, no matter how hard he tried to choke it back under control. He couldn’t see, couldn’t think.

Gritting his teeth, he paused in the middle of an alley, clenched his fists, closed his eyes. It didn’t help. Nothing helped, and he’d probably pissed off the only person who ever cared about him even slightly.

The overload got worse and worse, a building helpless fury that tumbled out in smoke. He let out a howl, wordless distress.

Lightning exploded around him. Crashing into the buildings, the ground, shooting up into the sky.

It died down with a rumble, smoke still billowing from him, and he snarled as he shook himself off. The anger hadn’t died down, not even with the release.

It never died down.

“Oh my,” a voice said from behind him. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

Crowley whipped around, shaking. He would be shaking for hours at this rate. “What the deuce are you doing here? Why are you following me?”

“Well, you’re quite clearly…” Biting his lip, Aziraphale hesitated. “Struggling, shall we say?”

That was an understatement. But the gentle concern in his voice brought tears to Crowley’s eyes.

The dark glasses weren’t enough to hide the tears. He twisted around, stomped off.

Aziraphale fell in step beside him.

They walked down narrow alleys, through the forum, back into alleys. Crowley was still smoldering, still didn’t trust himself to speak. If he spoke, he might blow up again, and it was bad enough that he’d done it once.

Gradually, though, his strength failed. The tears rose again, and he couldn’t choke them back. He couldn’t push himself, not anymore. He’d run out of energy.

Exhausted, he crumpled to the ground and pulled himself to lean against a building. Aziraphale, who had been walking silently beside him the whole time, vanished.

Crowley couldn’t blame him. After all, who would want to be around someone who got angry enough to blow up?

“Here, I brought you some more wine. I-I thought it might help.”

Startled, Crowley looked up. Aziraphale hovered nearby, a jug in hand. “Why’d you come back?”

Aziraphale’s eyebrow lifted. “Because… I thought it might help? You seem to be having a particularly awful day.”

Crowley opened his mouth to reply, then closed it. He pushed his sunglasses up, wiped his eyes, took a deep breath.

“Awful week,” he finally managed, almost burst into tears. “It’s been an awful week. Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

He exhaled in a gust, worn out. Didn’t have the energy to put it in words.

Aziraphale sat beside him, holding out the jug. “It’s okay. And you don’t have to explain to me, if it’s too hard. We can just share a drink, silently.”

Choked up, Crowley took the jug. Maybe later, he could try to articulate what the helpless anger at existence was like, especially when it surged out of control. But for now, drinking silently with Aziraphale sounded damn good.