#I try to be open and communicative but it can (and routinely does I feel) backfire on me… so sometimes the answer really IS just giving up

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Bouncing and behaving

Written for the Hop into Spring bonus card of the @steddiebingo Rated: E Tags: Dom!Steve; Sub!Eddie; Shower sex; Cock warming

Steve sings in the shower. 

Even though sing isn't quite the right word. It's more of a hum. A slow, wordless melody that Eddie doesn’t recognize, gentle vibrations rumbling from deep in his chest while he works the fingers of one large hand through Eddie’s curls, moving the handheld showerhead with the other. It makes his skull feel weirdly tingly, both inside and out, and between the warm, wet wisps of air wafting through the bathroom, the steady rush of the water, and the rich herbal scent of the shampoo, he's been finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes open. 

“There you go,” Steve mutters.

Eddie is faintly aware of the water being turned off. He whines in protest, the sound coming out muffled and wrecked around the weight on his tongue. Steve makes a shushing noise and slips his second hand into his hair, squeezing out the last suds. The motion makes his cock slide a little deeper down Eddie’s throat, and the whine cuts off as he struggles to adjust to it.  

“Don’t worry, baby, we're not done yet. You still okay?”

Eddie blinks sluggishly while the words process. Is he okay? What kind of question is that? He's more than okay, he's in heaven. Weightlessly floating with his head stuck in puffy, steamy, pleasantly scented clouds. 

“Baby,” Steve scolds. His nails scratch softly at Eddie’s scalp. “C'mon.” 

Oh, yeah. Right. He's supposed to communicate or whatever. Three taps against Steve’s thigh for green, two for yellow, one for red. Unfortunately, they haven't agreed on a signal for I've left behind the narrow realm of colors that our tiny human minds can comprehend and passed on straight to the ultraviolet spectrum. It's beautiful here, I wanna stay forever. 

He settles for four taps. Glances up through his lashes to give Steve his best pair of puppy dog eyes and hopes it brings the point across. It does, apparently, because Steve smiles down at him and reaches for the bottle of conditioner.

“You know,” he says, letting a generous amount drip into his open palm, “for all that you insisted earlier that you didn't have the time or patience for a proper hair care routine, you sure seem to be enjoying this now.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes and grunts. It makes his throat constrict, and Steve’s smile slips a bit, making way for the most delicate little gasp. He stifles it after only a moment, biting down on his bottom lip to reign himself in. 

“You're right,” he agrees, setting the bottle aside and rubbing his hands together to spread the conditioner. His tone is amicable and casual, but his voice has gone husky and deep. “I don't know why I'm surprised, either.” 

A blush has started to bloom on his chest, deep red and perfectly visible from Eddie's vantage point. Under any other circumstances, he'd probably attribute it to the warm clouds of steam fogging up the shower stall. But Steve’s hands are a little more firm as they slip into his hair, and Steve’s cock is twitching on his tongue, and he knows better. He shuffles, trying to pass it off as adjusting his kneeling position for more comfort, and Steve moans from somewhere low in his throat. The hands in Eddie’s hair tug - not enough to hurt, just enough to convey a warning - and he settles down again, like the good boy he promised to be. He's kind of glad for the way his lips are stretched obscenely wide around Steve’s base, because there's no way he'd be able to hide his smirk if they weren't. 

“Now,” Steve says, “I want you to relax, yeah? It's important to really massage that conditioner in.” 

He curls his fingers as if to demonstrate. The gesture is innocent enough, except it makes his hands slip all the way to the roots of Eddie’s hair, palms cupping his head on either side, leaving him no room to wiggle or escape as he’s forced to take Steve’s cock all the way down. The conditioner makes a slick sound, and Eddie’s vision goes wet and foggy for reasons that have nothing at all to do with the shower. Steve just holds him, thumbs rubbing slow circles into the jaw muscles just below his ears, while he waits for him to get his bearings. Eddie breathes deeply through his nose, slipping his eyes shut and willing himself to relax.

“Good boy,” Steve praises. It settles warm and heavy in Eddie’s abdomen, fueling the slowly simmering arousal there. And then Steve starts to gently massage his scalp, each little movement making his cock move and catch, and he feels his own precum dribble all over his knees and the floor tiles. “You have beautiful hair, y’know. You really should let me wash it for you more often.” 

Eddie has never tapped green so fast in his life. He can feel Steve’s laugh vibrate in his throat. 

“Glad we agree,” Steve murmurs. His hands come to rest on the back of Eddie’s head, fingers lightly linking together. When he starts to thrust his hips, it’s lazy and gentle, but Eddie still feels his eyes roll back and his hands clench tighter into the firm flesh of those thighs. “Now. The conditioner needs to settle for five to ten minutes before we wash it out, but I’m sure we’ll find a way to pass the time.”

More Steddie Bingo

[peaches2217]

WOOOOOOOOOO

I GOT A HATEFUL MESSAGE ON ANON AND I IMMEDIATELY DELETED IT WITHOUT GIVING THEM THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT

I am FLOURISHING!

[reignpage]

Bubble Bubble

Summary: in which alien!reader splashes around with Gojo Word Count: 3.4k Warnings: smut, 18+, not really a standalone, find the other parts in my fics masterlist, not proofread

Day 14

“Yeah, so then I told Yuji, ‘You just gotta go with your gut,’ y’know? He didn’t get it, but eh, he will, eventually.”

You hum. 

The two of you are in the bath. More specifically, sharing a bath. It’s not something he’d ever share he does to anyone, since, well, he doesn’t exactly feel proud of his decisions. 

It’d been two weeks by now, since he first met and took you in, and you’ve gotten along splendidly. Maybe, a little too splendidly if the fact that boundaries have been crossed majorly is anything to go by. And what Satoru means by this, of course, is how, since that fateful night where he had shoved his foot in his mouth and sparked a curiosity for pleasure in you, you two had been sleeping in bed together. 

Something about humping each other like dogs on the sofa seemed to mean all bets were off. 

Honestly, Satoru doesn’t sleep very often. He still has duties to attend to but also, he really likes watching you snooze — the man hates how creepy that sounds, how creepy all of this sounds but the blue lights that hum beneath your skin just demands his attention. So, at night, he traces his fingers lightly over your bare skin, following the lights as they journey back and forth from your heart. They follow blood flow, he figures, though he’s no doctor. 

There’s also something else: you and him have now developed a routine of dry-humping before bed. It’s terrible and Satoru should be ashamed, he knows that. His relationship with you was never supposed to be like his. You were supposed to be friends and he’s gone and taken advantage of you at your most vulnerable. 

He wants to stop. Really. 

But when you hold his arm, pressing them between your soft and warm breasts, and look up at him with those pretty eyes, how is he ever supposed to say no?

“But it’s your job, no? To teach?”

Your Japanese has gotten so much better. All those movies are really paying off — if only he could put a movie on for his students and let them figure it out. It’s great to be able to communicate with you better. Now, you two actually have discussions about what you’ve watched and what you want for dinner. You even tell jokes sometimes. They’re terrible and cheesy but when they come out of your mouth, they’re hilarious. 

One problem though: you hold him accountable.

Defensively, Satoru, answers, “I do. I teach all of them. I’m a great teacher!”

“But if Yuji confused, then you not teach well.”

He groans, head thrown back over the foot of the tub. You’re sat in front of him, between his legs with your head resting on his wet chest. "Why is no one on my side? Not even you."

"Maybe you teach us," you reply, following it with a giggle over your own joke. In spite of himself, he chuckles, admitting defeat. Then, playfully rolling his eyes, he tickles you as revenge. Whirring sounds out from your chest as you laugh uncontrollably.

This is nice, he thinks. He wishes he could stay here, in this tub, with you forever, even if his whole skin becomes wrinkly.

Your relationship is developing quite fast, so is your general capabilities. Soon, he'll have to open the door and let the world know who you are, let the sun graze your skin, the wind kiss your lips, and the ground feel your weight.

Satoru can only hope that day is far, far in the future.

"Whad'ya want for dinner tomorrow? I'm going shopping in the morning on my way back from my mission."

"Hmm, ramen?"

Playing with a lock of your hair, he notes, "We've been having ramen too often, E. Let's try -um- something healthier, m'kay? L-leave it to Toru."

The steam rises up and floats in the air, blurring his vision ever so slightly. Lovely as it is, the heat is getting to his head, short-circuiting his brain, making it difficult to focus, especially when you’re flicking your own nipples. 

“Hey, don’t do that,” he scolds, grabbing hold of your mischievous hands.

Oh and another thing, you two have gotten a little more adventurous than over the clothes humping. Satoru started off with wanting to make your ride, no pun intended, smoother by stimulating your chest — that had been an experiment to see if you have nerve endings there and you most certainly did because you writhed faster and moaned his name deliciously. 

At first, it was over your shirt for the friction, which you love. But then he couldn’t help himself and his wandering hands found themselves under your shirt and groping your breasts. They were warm and heavy and so soft. Since then, he hadn't been able to get his hands off your tits. And apparently, neither could you.

“No,” you say. “I like it.”

Satoru makes a noise of embarrassment, like the consequences of his horniness is catching up to him. “No, E, baby. You don’t do that in front of other people.”

“No other people. Just Toru.”

“Okay, yes, good. But you only play with yourself during special times.”

You shuffle around and with your head tilted, you ask, “What ‘special times’ mean?” 

Oh great, yet another dirty thing to teach you. If the government ever found out he’s harbouring an alien and he didn’t attempt to find out the secrets of the universe but instead chose to molest said alien, he’d be arrested, convicted, and he'll go down in the history books as the most perverted human in the world — no, the universe. 

“Forget it, E. Let’s just get washed up, okay? I’ll do your hair.”

Water splashes around when your fist smacks against the surface, more bubbles forming. “No, Toru is teacher. You teach. Not fair you teach Yuji but not me. I want to learn too. Tell me special times, Toru!”

How does he even begin to explain the distinction between teaching the kids versus teaching you? Because he really wants to make clear that he does not teach the kids anything remotely resembling this. Let that be known far and wide. 

Raking a wet hand through his wet hair, he sighs. 

“Alright, E. This is another thing we don’t talk to other people about, okay?”

You beam, a wave of blue lights running through your body just once, making a krrrrrrrrr sound that he finds just so endearing. “Secret?”

“Yes, secret.”

Soft lips meet his. 'Secret' is code for the intimate moments you share where you’re not alien and human caretaker, but rather just E and T. As soon as that word is uttered, you'd reach up and kiss him, tracing the seam of his lips with your tongue before plunging in, melting against his body. 

Satoru holds your head close, spare hand clasping your wet neck and then falling down to one tit, groping it the way you like. When you arch your back, he takes that as a sign to flick your nipple. It never fails to make you gasp into his mouth. 

Groaning, he deepens the kiss impossibly further, chasing the sweet taste of your lips like it might be his last meal. Though you two have never humped against each other completely bare, being naked like this hasn’t been new for almost a week now. Still, when his cock hardens even more, you giggle. “Toru boner? Want me to make it go away?”

“No, not yet, E,” he mutters. “First, I gotta teach you about ‘special times,’ remember?”

Manoeuvring you back into facing the front, he holds your knees and widens them until they’re resting against his thighs perfectly. He’s never taken a proper look at your pussy before and even from this angle he can’t really see much. He knows you have a slit, bare and smooth, and everything on the outside looks fine. But he’s never felt more. Since you like grinding so much, he figures you must have a clit, right? So surely this wouldn’t be too hard to do. 

“So, E, special times refers to masturbation. It refers to when you make yourself feel good alone. Do you wanna know how women masturbate?”

Breathless, you nod. 

He skims one hand down your stomach, tickling you for a second, before he spreads your lips and feels with his middle finger what you have there. Oh. “Feels pretty normal to me. Are you sure you’re an alien, E?”

“Yes. I come from stars. Far away. You can’t fly to. No air up there. You die.”

Right, okay, well he wasn’t planning on doing that, so he focuses back onto your pussy. He finds your clit easily; it’s exactly where women’s tends to be so he wastes no time in rubbing around the area, laying feather-light touches to your clit here and there. 

Blue light is shining under your skin again. He must be doing a good enough job. 

“You rub this. It’s called a clit. Can you say that for me?”

“C-clit. I rub clit for special times.”

He hums. "Good. Now if you ever want some time alone, just tell me you want to play with your pussy, 'kay?"

"I play with pussy?"

Satoru kisses your head, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. You’re growing wetter under the water, your pussy warm — hotter than he remembers the average pussy to be — and he’s growing breathless too. You feel so good. “Play with your titties, baby. Just like earlier. Go on.”

Your hands fly up, groping hard. He watches the fat pool between your fingers and his mouth suddenly feels empty; he hasn’t tasted your tits yet. What a shame. 

Venturing lower, he feels the divot in your pussy and he knows you also have a hole. He tests it with one finger at first, poking and waiting for any sign of pain. There is none. Instead, you jut your hips out, encouraging him. So, he pushes that finger in. 

“Oh, fuck, E. W-what are these?” There’s pleats inside your pussy. They’re moving. Withdrawing in a haste, he examines his finger. It’s still there so he knows your pussy juices aren’t corrosive or something, though he does feel some tingling. Oddly, there's a light sheen of blue in the translucent liquid. “Baby, do you know anything about this? Do you know if we can do this? Like, I don't know, did you learn anything from your home?”

Still playing with your nipples, you throw your head back and whine. “It’s okay, Toru. Safe. Just make me feel good, p-please.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you. And I don’t exactly want to get hurt too but I can turn my infinity on.”

“Shield?”

“Yeah, shield.”

Grabbing his wrist, you lead it back to your pussy and press it hard against the entire area, humping his palm unashamedly. “No. Safe, Toru. Listen to E! My people say we are—“

And then you proceed to make alien noises that confuses him even more but he trusts you. You may not know much about Earth but you aren’t stupid — you just find it difficult to communicate. 

Hesitantly, he pushes two fingers in, testing your stretch. It’s a tight fit for sure but somehow your moving walls are massaging his fingers, welcoming him in and urging him deeper. The sensations are new and odd but somewhat addictive. He wonders if you have a G-spot. 

Curling his fingers, he presses against where it usually is and you whimper, body tensing. Okay, so G-spot check. Good.

“‘We are’ what, E? I didn’t understand.”

Your chest makes a thrill sound. 

“How say, okay together? Match?”

“Compatible?”

You shrug like that’s a good enough synonym. Resuming playing with your breasts, you let Satoru explore your insides, thrusting his fingers in slowly as his thumb rubs your pussy. 

Definitely hotter inside than usual, Satoru also notices something else. Actually a couple things, all driving him absolutely wild: one, every spot inside you is a G-spot, he knows that because your eyes fly open and both your skin and your eyes glows brighter in pulses every time he presses in at any spot.

Two, your canal is longer than average because not even his ‘freakishly long’ fingers (as Shoko called them once) can reach your cervix when usually that had always been the case with the women he’d been with before. 

Maybe you don’t have a cervix. You haven’t had a period at all and though he knows a month hasn’t passed, you also haven’t brought it up even when he tried to teach you about menstruation. Maybe you don’t have a womb either. His dick throbs. Yeahhhh, he’s a terrible human being. There’s no way he’s getting turned on by the prospect of having as much unprotected sex as he wants with your beautiful body, pussy leaking his cum and making your thighs sticky. 

“Can you have babies, E? Y’know, little humans.”

Beginning to thrash around, you’re more than distracted. He has to nibble on your ear to get your attention, and then, you, with very little patience, respond, “N-no. Babies made different way. Ah, T-toru! I feel good again. More, please!”

“Alright, alright. Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to withhold an orgasm. Tilt your head this way, E. Wanna kiss you. You know how much I love it when we kiss whilst you cum.”

Ever so obedient, you hurriedly turn your head around, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him desperately. Every kiss, every touch of your tongues together is interrupted with high-pitched moans, splashing water, and vibrations from your chest, that telltale humming growing louder and louder as the pleats in your pussy wrap around his fingers in a tighter and tighter hug. 

They hold onto him like they’d be very upset if he removed them for too long as he thrusts and presses all your sensitive spots over and over again, the water sloshing around and spilling over the tub, creating a mess he'll have to deal with.

“T-toru! Fingers soooooo long. I feel full!”

“I know, E, baby. You like feeling full, don’t you. Your pussy doesn’t want me to leave, does she?”

Satoru fails to mention one other thing he’s noticed and he really can’t spend too much time thinking about it because it’s threatening to make him bust his load prematurely: your pussy emits light. 

Seriously, it’s like something from some shitty hentai. But there’s no doubt about it; blue light is shining onto his pale fingers, making the water and the bubbles an even darker blue. Everywhere he looks, there’s you. You are blue. When he stares up at the sky, he feels his chest ache. And when he sees stop signs and cars resembling any shade of blue, his cock is growing in his trousers. 

Fuck, even when he catches sight of his eyes in the mirror, unobscured by his blindfold, all he sees is you. 

“You’re so hot inside. Do you hate me for wanting to fuck you right now, E? Hmm? Would you hate me if I just lifted you up and dropped you down on my cock? No, probably not, right? ‘Cause you want me too, right, E? You want Toru?”

“Y-yes, Toru. Want -ngh!- you. Always”

He coos, “Aww, you’re such a sweetie-pie, aren’t you? My good girl. Go on, then baby, show me h-how much you want me. R-ride my fingers.”

Smelling like roses and bath salts, the steam fills his nose and Satoru thinks he might just pass out from the overstimulation — your soft breasts pressed against his bare skin, your lips wrapped around his, your hot pussy pulsing, and flashes of light casting blue shadows around the room. “You gonna cum, E? You feeling good? Is this better than humping my cock, baby? We — ha yes just like that, ride my fingers, baby— we can do b-both now. Just gotta tell Toru when you want to —ngh- feel good, yeah?”

“Yes, Toru. I tell you. Oh, I’m close! That good feeling coming. Don’t stop!”

Even from his angle, your body is rubbing against his cock which he had been steadily grinding against you the entire time. 

Together, you cum. 

“Ah, fuck, E. Ah, shit, oh yeah, baby. So good.”

Your nails are digging into his wrist as you ride out your orgasm, the glow under your skin thrumming devastatingly. He can't help himself; Satoru tilts your head back, lips skimming against each other but not quite pressed together, just gulping down your moans. He loves seeing your eyes too.

In these moments, he sees himself reflected in your eyes the way he sees you reflected in every breath, step, and move he makes. It's like a brand, a punishment for making him so weak. Those glowing blue eyes are his only reprieve for his crimes, the consolation for his depravity, and the very thing that convinces him he's doing right by you.

"T-thank you, Toru," you sigh out, body relaxing and lights shutting off.

He almost misses the pretty lights. "Mmm, you're welcome. Not like I didn't get anything out of it. But I have to say, your pussy took me by surprise. I didn't expect for there to be moving things. And the light! Damn, do you just glow everywhere?"

You hiss, nails digging into his thighs.

"Youch! Hey, what was that for?"

Pushing away from him, you shuffle over to the other end of the tub, holding your knees together as you dip lower into the water, your eyes the only things visible.

Poor baby's sulking and he doesn't even know why.

"Hey, E. Talk to me. What's wrong? I didn't hurt you, did I? I didn't scratch something?"

Flicking water at him, you growl, "No."

"Okay, so what's wrong? Uh, hey, don't look at me like that. If you don't talk to me, I'll take away movie privileges."

"No movie?"

"No. Movie."

SPLASH!

Dumbfounded, Satoru sits there, soaking wet, water dripping from his hair with his mouth open. In front of him is a woman who's playing with some bubbles, the picture of innocence. "Alright. Fine. That's how you wanna play? Stay here by yourself then."

He's out of the bath and towelling off by the time you get to him, arms wrapping around his waist as you smush your face against his chest. Forcing his limbs to not embrace you, he waits patiently for your next move.

Though he would never want to upset you or make you feel like he's mad at you, he has enough tact to know permitting your bad behaviour even once would only spell trouble for him in the future.

"Come." You urge him to bring his face closer and so he does. Then, with gentle hands, you wipe the suds from his cheeks and grab a small towel to dry his hair. He lets you ruffle it around with the 'swooosh swoosh swoooosh' sounds he makes when he does yours.

Once dry, he peeks out from under the towel and his gaze softens. "Talk to me, baby. Tell me what I did wrong."

You sigh. "You make fun of me. My body. You think I'm...weird. Am I not pretty like women in movies? Like Rapunzel?"

His heart breaks. Literally. He feels it give up on him and shatter into tiny little fragments, like mere reflections of stars on a dirty puddle on the road.

"Oh, no, E, baby. Hey, listen," he urges. Grabbing your face, he presses a kiss on your nose and smiles a little when you crinkle it. "I think you're pretty. Very pretty. Prettier than Rapunzel. Prettier than everyone else. I'm sorry I made you think that I think your body's weird. No, of course not. Sure, it's different but so am I to you, I'm sure. I was just taken by surprise because of how new it all is. I think it's very cool. I think you're cool, okay? Tell me you understand, sweet thing."

"I pretty?"

"Gorgeous. Stunning. Ethereal."

Flattening your bare body against him, he feels every curve and has to will his dick to stay asleep. Then, with a much lighter tone, you ask, "You like me, Toru? More than movie girls?"

He whispers against your head, "Yeah. I like you more than them. I like you more than anyone else in the world. In fact, I like you too much to let anyone take you away."

"Someone take me away?"

Then, with a fierce resolution burning in his eyes, he swears with all the cursed technique swirling in his veins, "No. Never."

[pedgito]

𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘 | Joel Miller x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | you've got an issue and joel's willing to solve it. after all, what are neighbors for?

author's note | this was a prompt from a meet-weird thing i saw ages ago that was originally supposed to be javi, but jo (@undercoverpena) gave me the beautiful idea of making it joel and it spurred this monster.

content warning | established friendship, caught during sex, does the apocalypse having working appliances? probably not, but for the sake of this fic distend belief i beg. oral (eating out from the back), unprotected piv, subtly cocky!joel miller, he's a good ass neighbor, okay?, unbeta'd.

word count — 5.6k

Joel’s fixed this damn machine seven times, convincing himself every time that it was the last time. Shocker, it wasn’t. This time didn’t even last a month. He’s desperate now.

He would usually haul the load all the way to the communal laundry house closer to the group of joined townhomes that housed most of the younger adults—the spry and bright-faced ones who sprung up at the mention of patrol or work, any prospect of toting a gun around with any sense of leadership. They were eager, he couldn’t say the same for himself.

He was old, weathered—years of routine he had created to get the job done and get the hell home.

And truthfully, as he tapped the wrench against the metal machine, chin tucked into his palm as he scratched at his beard, he almost complied with the idea that he would just have to tough it out. Scrounging for parts was nearly impossible—dumb luck, really. In the past several years they’ve picked this town clean, bone-dry.

He’s elbow deep inside the barrel of the dryer when he hears the knock at his door, bumping his head against the rim of it as he exits and cursing under his breath as he pushes to stand, joints creaking and popping in disapproval. 

He can smell you before he sees you, the familiar scent of fresh-baked goods following you everywhere—Joel couldn’t feel guilt for being one of the folks addicted to your cooking. 

Grains had been hard to come by since the epidemic hit, everything was tainted on a global level. It took years and years of Jackson growing its own stock of wheat for things like pie or a nice, gooey cinnamon roll to even be plausible anymore. But, they were managing well so far.

“Saved ‘em for you and Ellie,” You tell him, a small plate of still hot brownies covered with parchment paper, dawning that trademark smile that Joel has come to love, tapping his fingers against the door frame as he passes the plate off to a quickly approaching Ellie.

“Girl’s got the nose of a basset hound,” Joel looks on in amused bewilderment as Ellie throws a mouth-stuffed thanks over her shoulder, “sorry ‘bout her.”

You wave her off whole-heartedly, taking in his sweaty appearance and casual attire. You were used to him in jeans and thick flannels, not a graphic tee and pair of sleep pants. He’s almost always dressed like he had to run at a moment's notice, you weren’t even sure he owned anything different until now.

“Everything good?” You question him, a small laugh escaping your throat.

“Damn washer and dryer is out again,” Joel explains, throwing a hand vaguely over his shoulder.

“Both of them this time?” You ask, “Damn.”

“I can fix ‘em, just a matter of finding the right parts,” Joel tells you, “ looks like I’m gonna have to hand wash again.”

Joel was a friend. You helped friends. It seemed like a no-brainer really, opening your mouth without thinking it through, the kindness tumbling out despite yourself.

“Oh, you’re welcome to load yours up at mine,” You offer and Joel looks immediately apprehensive, the southern charm and well-mannered tone gearing to creep up on you.

“Now, I don’t mean to make you feel like you have to—”

“Joel, I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t feel comfortable with it,” You remind him, “seriously—anytime, just try and bring your own detergent—and for the love of god, empty your pockets before you put ‘em in.”

Joel chuckles tiredly at that, rolling his eyes as he nods in agreement.

“Got it, of course, sweetheart.”

“I leave an extra key under the rug, so if I’m ever not home just come in,” Given that Joel was Tommy’s brother, you knew he wouldn’t be up to any trouble, “sound good?”

“Yep. Anytime—just make myself at home.” Joel confirms and you nod with an even wider smile, waving a pleasant goodbye as you trailed down the stairs and made your way to the house you inhabited next door.

Right, anytime.

Unfortunately, Joel took that a little too literally.

-

Joel managed to scrounge up the courage a day later, tumbling into his house on tired legs after a lengthy patrol up at the cabin lookout, scooping the basket up in his arms and heading out his front door, taking the short walk to your house.

The lights were off, but that wasn’t unusual. Joel knew you liked to stay late nights in the town’s mess hall, often working on prep for the following morning to make the load a little lighter and sleep in a while longer, so when he fishes under the doormat for the key he thinks nothing of it.

And as the door swings open, it is still fairly quiet. Though, he can hear your own dryer running upstairs. He’s got the layout down too, having shared more than a few nightcaps with you. Friend to friend and nothing more, even if you had always felt a little more strongly toward being affectionate. A hug or a kiss on the cheek from time to time, he never pushed you away. Joel never seemed like the type of man who openly showed affection, even toward a friend. But, he was good, reliable–most of the time.

He reaches the stairs with trepidation as the sounds grow louder and part of him wonders if by some uncanny coincidence your dryer might be growling and rumbling on its own final leg. 

The moment his hand reaches that doorknob and turns he realizes he’s made a mistake.

He’s caught you at a…bad time. Head thrown back with your mouth hung wide, whatever noise you’re making was mostly drowned out by the nagging sound of the dryer as it tore through the spin cycle but he hears the tailend of it, a soft moan of pleasure from the man who’s buried inside of you right now, both of you naked from the waist down but your breasts on full display with your shirt tucked under your neck.

“Benny?” Joel asks, slightly amused.

You lift your head at the sound and spot him, your feet nearly slipping out from under you as you scramble to push Benny away, who perks with an even more perplexed, “Joel?”

“Goddamn it, Joel,” You curse behind gritted teeth, furiously readjusting yourself, pulling your sweats back on and over your ass and your shirt down, “What are you doing here?”

Joel looks down at the basket still clinging to his hip before back up at you, wordlessly.

You sigh through your nose with a tight lipped frown, cheeks puffing out as you brushed your fingers through your hair and down—Benny was still scrambling to redress behind you, unable to pull his gaze away from Joel.

“Benny?” Joel mouths at you quietly, eyebrows raised curiously.

You walk toward the now open door slowly as Benny buttons his pants and you shoot Joel daggers with your stern gaze.

Cut it out.

Joel smirks slightly, cheek dimpling with the action as he side-steps Benny, who leans around you and kisses your cheek—it was a kind gesture but given the situation, in horrible taste. You force a polite smile and once Benny is a far enough distance you hit Joel firmly in the arm as he passes by you and into the laundry room.

You walk Benny to the door with a million thoughts racing through your head, offering a distracted goodbye before you’re locking the door and racing back upstairs with determined footsteps and Joel has already loaded his clothes in the washer, turning the knob to set the load size and time.

“Benny?” He echoes his earlier questions, “Really?”

“What? Are you judging me?”

“No—just, that kid’s had quite an obsession with you for some time now. Just…surprised is all.”

Your lips pull together in a disapproving but nonchalant frown, taking his words for the bullshit they are.

“When I said anytime that did not extend to the middle of the night, Joel.”

“You’re usually still at work,” He supplies—and really, he’s not wrong, “M’sorry. I mean that.”

“Well, now I’ve gotta deal with the fact you’ve seen me naked,” You cross your arms over your chest and lean against the doorframe and Joel’s eyes track you for a moment, smiling with amusement at the thought.

“What? You want a fair trade?” Joel teases, “‘Cause, darlin’. I don’t mind—but it was an accident. Besides, ain’t nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

He means it in a broader sense, but you can’t help the eye roll it induces. 

“No, no,” You chew at your bottom lip, watching Joel place the empty basket on top of the washer, “I can finish that up if you want to get some sleep. I know you had a long patrol today.”

“Oh, did you?”

He’s teasing you.

“Don’t push it, old man,” Joel shakes his head at that jab and chuckles, “Ellie clued me in when she picked up some sandwiches for her and Dina earlier.

He’s not going to pass on the offer, though. He nods, rubbing a hand over his tired face.

“Jesus—just…Benny?” Joel reiterates again, “Didn’t think the kid had it in ‘em.”

“Out,” You say with an over-pronunciation as you drag his slow and progressive steps further out of your laundry room and into the hall, “or you’re off my dessert list for a month, Miller.”

Joel smiles at you knowingly, “You wouldn’t dare,” He retorts, knowing you too well.

You wouldn’t make him suffer like that. Or Ellie, who wouldn’t hesitate to murder Joel if he robbed her of that pleasure. Not literally…but, she would carry a few choice words for him.

“Seriously, though, thank you,” He nods, leaning down to press a kiss into the crown of your head—an often familiar gesture when you parted after a long night of nonsensical talk and a couple glasses of wine or whiskey, depending on how hard the day had been, “I appreciate it, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, yeah—”

“And I do apologize for…not knocking and showin’ up at such a weird time.”

You shrug, “You’re forgiven. Just…don’t give Benny a hard time. He’s a good guy.”

“You’ve got my word, darlin’.”

Joel was determined to be on his best behavior, clearly.

-

It takes Joel a couple weeks to find the parts he needs and luckily there are no more run-ins on your midnight sex-scapades, still feeling the embarrassment from the first one. Joel doesn’t even seem to remember it after a couple days, thankfully. He was bypassing it for your own benefit, truthfully. And you knew that.

Selfishly, you're glad to have your appliances back to yourself. 

They’re good, solid, reliable—until they aren’t.

Your washer shits itself mid-load and you can hear it from downstairs. A loud screeching noise before an even louder pop that has you groaning loudly because you know. You can feel it.

You can’t even bring yourself to go check, peering through the window of your kitchen and catching a fresh pot of coffee in the house across from yours, a man coming into view and his stark white shirt contrasting the black coffee cup in his hands. He catches you out of the corner of his eye and looks at you with a quizzical amusement, smile tugging at his face.

Joel was always up before the sun rose, so with the sun just creeping into the sky you’re sure that’s his third or fourth cup of coffee. He reaches over his sink and fiddles with the latch on his window before heaving it up, watching as you struggled to do that same but eventually managed.

“You run outta coffee again?” He asks, sipping at the bitter, black coffee in his mug.

“No,” You reply quickly, slightly exasperated as you chew at your bottom lip, debating how to pop the question and feeling nervous under Joel’s intense gaze, curiously wondering if he’s still picturing you naked. He’s never explicitly mentioned it since, but you have caught him in the act.

Wandering eyes, gazes catching when your back is turned for half a second as you bend down or move in a way that exposes too much skin.

“My washer broke,” You cut to the chase and Joel chuckles at how comical it is, in hindsight.

Was this karma? It was definitely karma. 

You’ve never asked Joel for anything—despite your often bouts of kindness toward him you never expected anything in return, not even a favor.

“Doors open,” Joel nods toward his front door out of view, an invitation like you offered him.

You didn’t even hesitate, pushing the window close and bounding up the stairs.

-

You’re already loading your things into his washer before he appears around the corner, peeking his head in, coffee cup still in hand as he takes a few more steps and leans against the wall beside the washing machine and your eyes glance at him briefly before you continue moving the clothes, watching him watch you from behind the rim of his mug.

“I can start them and come back,” You tell him, “so I won’t be lingering around here all day.”

“No Benny?”

You stand up as you close the washer, deadpan stare pointed in his direction.

“You can be such a nosy neighbor, you know that?”

Joel shrugs, a smug smile covered behind his sip of coffee.

“It was just a few times. Besides he’s…too much for me.”

You turn the dial to start the load and it rumbles to life with a simple press of a button.

“You wanna talk about it?”

It wasn’t completely unnatural for you two—you knew quite a bit about Joel now: his life before, his work, his daughter…all things that come with trust and time. He’s waited patiently for you and you’ve given him peeks into your life, but nothing like this.

“It’s a long story, Joel.”

“Got time,” He smiles slightly, “I’ll go grab you a cup of coffee—sit down.”

You look around briefly, not a chair in sight. So, you raise yourself up just enough that you can slide your ass over the top of the washer, bare feet dangling off the floor and you wait, the subtle and quiet shake from the beginning of the load process keeping the awkward silence at bay.

Joel turns the corner a few minutes later with your cup, made up just to your liking and you nod with a gentle smile, taking the cup from his hand and allowing yourself a few generous sips.

“So—that night, you caught us,” You can laugh at the instances now, so you do in a soft, clipped manner, “it wasn’t the first—it had been a month by that point and he just caught me by surprise, showed up that night and things just got a little out of hand.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise in interest but he urges you to continue, leaning against the wall in front of you now, resting his mug on the shelf just above his head as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“He’s a good guy, don’t get me wrong—but I don’t do serious…I can’t, now with how things are. And I know a lot of people think the opposite, seize the moment and all that shit,” You sigh, a deep and heavy sound that expands and releases from your chest, “he was already talking about moving in, the idea of us having kids—so that night I just tried to distract him.”

“With sex? Seems a little…counter-productive, don’t you think?”

“Don’t judge me, Joel,” You warn him but it’s edged with a playfulness that Joel recognizes. You didn’t have a mean, deceptive bone in your body and Joel knew that from the first conversation he had with you.

“I needed him to shut up,” You groan at the thought of the conversation as it replays in your mind, “I’m trying to wash my clothes, he’s talking to me about babies. I do not want kids, Joel. Ever. At least none that are biologically mine. Who would want to bring a kid into this world?”

Well…Tommy. The thought comes to you after the words have already left your mouth and your heart sinks into your stomach, looking at Joel apologetically.

“Sweetheart, don’t even try to apologize. Ain’t nothing wrong with it.”

“It makes me sound horrible, I know but—”

“I’ve done my time—it’s none of my business how others choose to live. Besides, I’m pushing sixty, I don’t have to worry about all that…sorry, I’m not trying to be crude here.”

You nod knowingly with a smirk tugging at your lips, taking another sip of coffee before handing the mug off for him to place it next to his own, ready to slide off of the washer before Joel interjects with another question that catches you off guard.

“He treat you right, at least?”

You tilt your head with that same knowing smirk, pushing Joel away at his hip with your foot as he leans up from his position against the wall—Joel’s never flirted, always promptly skirted around the issue and went about it more gentlemanly. He’s not abrasive and straightforward like most of the men in Jackson, but damn did he know how to make you feel special.

Undivided attention, constant subtle compliments, giving up some much-needed sleep for a simple late night drink with you—part of you was too terrified to make your own move and make it clear just how badly you wanted just a small taste of him.

You’ve heard whispering, minimal talk from a few of the women in town. Joel didn’t often make his rounds but when he did, he left an impression. And you had every right to be jealous, because with him standing in front of you now—you knew it would be easy to say no and he would fix you right up, finally crossing that line that he’s been carefully dancing around for a few years.

“He’s a bit…timid,” You shrug, “and he doesn’t really…”

The air lingers and the side of Joel’s mouth pulls up—you don’t have to say it.

“Joel, don’t do that,” You shove at his shoulder as he approaches you, his hands pressing into the contraption you’re on, curled around the metal, “—he’s just…eager, but not in a good way.”

There’s a glint in Joel’s eye that leads you to believe he’s not thinking about Benny’s less than experienced sex life, feeling the sudden jitteriness from the coffee as your chest rises with a deep, shaky breath and Joel eyes the time over your shoulder.

Forty-five minutes and some change, plus the time to dry because Joel already knows you aren’t going to trouble yourself with walking the damp laundry through this cold, muggy weather.

“So, no then?” Joel asks.

He could have treated you better, sure. But, he wasn’t the worst.

But, the way Joel is staring at you knows makes everything and everyone dull in comparison.

You shake your head in agreement, chewing at the inside of your bottom lip as your hands fall to your lap, his hands ncreasingly closer to the tights covering your legs, suddenly feeling his thumb graze your hip. You both glance down at the action and your breathing halts, watching as his right hand slowly engulfs your thigh, fingers digging into the soft material and dimpling your skin underneath, his thumb only a few centimeters from dipping into the inside of your thigh.

They part on their own, welcoming Joel in wordlessly and his left hand echoes the other. His face is level with your own, staring down at your lips briefly before meeting your eyes and you’ve seen that look before—the adoration when he thought you weren’t watching, secretly you had become good at catching those glances, but Joel wasn’t trying to hide it now.

And it quickly dawns on you in the moment—he was jealous. Of Benny. Or really, any man that had come before him. But, he was using him as the scapegoat.

Honestly, you couldn’t even care.

“You want someone to treat you right?” He speaks softly and if you weren’t so close you wouldn’t have heard him, “I got you, sweetheart. I swear.”

He’s not looking at you anymore, eyes dragging down the bridge of your nose to your lips again. But, you are looking at him, flooded with that tricky feeling that creeps up on you when you want things you know you shouldn’t.

“Joel, I told you—I don’t do serious,” And you hold your breath for the response, wondering if that would send this moment crumbling to dust, but Joel doesn’t miss a step.

“Good for you,” Joel dotes, “neither do I.”

Then he’s on you, the press of his lips in a heated kiss sends you tumbling back, caught by the warm slide of his palm over your back to pull you in, throwing your arms over his shoulders as he pulls back briefly, just enough for you to open your mouth to speak, but his tongue finds its way inside and the words fade away.

Just friendly, my ass—you think.

If you had known he kissed like this—you would’ve jumped at the opportunity months ago; a night spent drinking too many glasses of wine and laughing over some movie far before your time, but not his. 

He was so entranced, giving you all the details, but you couldn’t help giggling over it, too touchy to be considered friendly.

You’d both cut it short quickly when Ellie popped in halfway through the movie, and beyond that, it never grew.

Until now.

“Sweet,” Joel notes with a subtle smile, his hand dwarfing the size of your neck as his fingers wrapped around the column of your throat, holding you firmly in place as he maneuvered you toward and away from the kiss as he pleased, swallowing every tiny moan that escaped your lips when his other hand squeezed at your thigh just a little too hard.

“All that sugar,” In your coffee, the taste lingering on your lips and he licks around them teasingly, pulling away briefly to look at you, your eyebrows raising in question as the gears turn in his head, “—you still with me?”

“I’m just wonderin’ if you’re okay with this,” Joel speaks candidly, his eyes trained on his thumb as it rubs against the middle of your throat, traveling up under your chin and tipping your head up slightly, watching as you swallowed, “before I take this further, jus’ need to know.”

You nod jerkily, not even a second of hesitation. 

“You would have known the moment you kissed me, Joel.”

In turn, Joel nods slowly before he speaks, stealing the air from your chest.

“Alright then, pull these down for me,” He tugs gently at the material clinging to your thighs before both of his hands find the spot behind your knees and tug until your feet hit the floor, “and push that pretty little ass out for me.”

The absurdity of this language on his tongue makes you giggle but abide in an instant, struggling slightly as the material bunches at your ankles and Joel helps you the rest of the way, tossing your pants aside before he’s kneeling despite how his body protests, too eager to give you a taste of the pleasure you deserve and he’s grabbing the cheeks of your ass and squeezing them between his hands before he’s leaning up to bite playful at the soft flesh.

He groans quietly against your skin, the press of his aquiline nose against your ass as his fingers fold around the string of your underwear and pull, dropping them down to your ankles and off and then his tongue is flat against the seam of your cunt, gasping as you fall forward and your own fingers clawing against nothing.

“Joel!” You squeak out as his fingers dig hard into your ass, forcing you up on your tiptoes as devours, licking into your cunt as it quivers around his tongue. 

Your hand pressed against the wall in front of you to keep your chest from hitting the washer, feeling your pussy tighten around the finger that enters alongside his expert tongue, a soft groan erupting out of him from behind you. That smug motherfucker was attempting a teasing huh under his breath as he busied himself with the task of eating you out from the back and you couldn’t even think straight. 

‘C’mon, baby,” He coos between his alternating licks and slurps of the heady slick that dripped from your cunt, “come all over my mouth, let me taste that sugar.”

It’s absurd, the way he’s speaking to you now. Your eyes squeeze shut as his thumb finds your clit amongst the chaos of his tongue and fingers, face heating up at how noisy your cunt sounded over the dull shake of the washer and Joel’s satisfied moans, occasionally massaging at the back of your thigh when your legs shake with the creeping feeling of your impending orgasm.

“Oh,” You squeal, reaching behind you to dig your fingers into his hair, panting out in desperation, “—fuck, don’t stop! Joel, right—right there,” and then glance you take back at him, his eyes peeking open from his position below, on his knees and dutiful to you and you alone, well…

It sends you tumbling over the edge as his thumb rubs over your clit quickly, soothing you through the aftermath as he laps up the mess you’ve made all over yourself, dragging his tongue along the inside of your thigh because if you knew anything about Joel, he didn’t waste a meal. 

And you were just about the finest he’s tasted.

You clear your throat as you rest your feet flat on the floor, feeling the faint quake in your legs as Joel rises slowly, forcing you to swallow down a giggle as he winces and he can see it on your face.

“Worth it,” He excuses himself, “don’t look at me like that.”

“No old man jokes?” You sound sad and Joel can’t believe it.

He shakes his head.

But, the smile that breaks out on your face quickly diminishes any comeback he has.

You begin to push him away with a hand gripped in his shirt, carefully avoiding the obvious bulge in his sweats as you reach for your tights, ready to redress and drop to your own knees as a favor but his fingers are wrapping around your wrist, pulling your attention back to him.

“I meant it,” Joel tells you, tilting his head to catch your gaze.

You smile wide and tilt your head to mirror him, “I think you proved your point—Benny is a pathetic man who doesn’t know how to make me come, blah blah…”

“My job ain’t done if you’re still thinkin’ about him, darlin’.”

His eyebrows raise in challenge.

Okay, you’re game.

Wordlessly you allow the hands at your hip that guide you toward the front of the joined appliances, his fingers sliding under your top until you get the hint to pull it off, your breasts bouncing free from the shirt—the few bras you had were already in the wash, big deal.

Joel chuckles and stops for a moment, admiring the sight of your breasts for the second time that month, albeit more openly this time. He reaches forward and rubs his thumb along your nipple, watching the nub harden under his touch and you bite at your bottom lip, eye fluttering closed at how sensitive they were to touch, something other men never took the time to notice.

“You like that?” Joel asks with a creeping grin.

You nod, watching as he squeezed your tits in his hands, showing your nipples ample attention as he circled them with his thumb before leaning down slightly and swiping his tongue over the hardened nubs, sucking your breast into his mouth and his eyes peer up, gauging your reaction which quickly developed from a soft giggle to a loud moan.

“Clothes,” You breath out, “off—if you still have a point to prove.”

A point that you wanted proven. Hard.

Joel pulls away and yanks his shirt over his head, allowing you an unobscured view of the mix of muscled shoulders and his softened stomach, running your hand over the patch of hair at the center of his chest and down, right along his hips until his own fingers hook around the fabric and pull his sweats and boxers down in one motion, his cock catching against the edge of his waistband before it bobs back up toward his stomach.

You find yourself smiling despite yourself, forgetting for a moment that Joel was standing there and watching you, feeling your mouth water at the sight of him hard and leaking at how just getting a small taste of you had turned him on that much, precum leaking slowly from the tip and he wraps his hand around himself, other hand tapping at your chin to drag your attention back up to his face, reminding you he was still there.

“Got somethin’ on your mind, sweetheart?”

You shake your head furiously, “No, no—no, nothing. Just, uh—”

“I’ll start slow,” He tells you and with the size of him, thick and girthy in ways you’ve only imagined or pictured in your head, it’s daunting, “are you still alright with all of this?”

Your face softens and you nod, appreciating the repeated check-ins, the need for confirmation, but it pulls at your heart as you wonder why he feels the need to ask so much. As if he was fearful you would change your mind on a dime—Joel was fine with that, but he was more worried about the change in dynamic. Thankfully, you were determined for that not to be the case.

“I’m pretty tough,” You shrug, a playful smile gracing your face.

Joel nods absently as his fingers drag along your waist before catching behind your knee and pulling it up over his hip, both of your eyes dragging down to his cock as he tugged at himself a few times, his brow furrowed as he spread your lips apart with the head, dipping his hips down slightly to catch against your hole before he pushes in slow, one solid stroke that steals the sound from your throat and transfers to his own. Joel groans out softly as he pushes into you, his hands gravitating toward your face and wrapping around the sides of your neck, tilting your head back to mouth at your skin, his tongue dragging along your collarbone before sucking and nipping gently at your skin.

“Don’t I know it,” Joel responds after a while, “find something to hold onto.”

Your soft giggle of excitement shoots down to your core and your fingers wrap around the edges of the washer and Joel pulls back swiftly before he’s snapping his hips back into you before repeating the process several times, the jolt of the machine hitting the concrete wall behind you drowned out by your loud moans, quickly swallowed up by Joel’s lips as he pulls your mouth to his, breathing into it with every sharp snap of his hips.

“Harder,” You beg, biting at his bottom lip as he groans, using his fingers intertwined into the hair at the nape of your neck now to pull your head back and he pulls his hips back quick, bottoming himself out inside of you so forcefully you feel like your legs might give out, his cock rubbing against your already too sensitive g-spot and continuously finding a way to bring you closer and closer to the edge, “fuck—yes, yes. Joel, oh my god—”

“Yeah,” Joel goads you, his eyes drawn closed as he tries to keep his own orgasm at bay, “give it to me, baby—wanna watch you make a mess on my cock, alright?”

Easy, you laugh airily and feel the instinctive squeeze of your walls around Joel’s cock as he pulls your face to his, foreheads pressed against each other as he angles his hips back and slams into you one last time before you come undone, head falling back in a similar position to how he caught you a few weeks ago, this time for him. 

Your grab for his shoulders suddenly, blunt fingernails digging into his skin and he takes a few harsh breaths through his nose before he’s pulling out, hand grasping his cock as he jerked himself a few seconds before he comes in thick, short spurts against your stomach, squeezing at the head of his cock as he drags it through the mess he’s made.

His expression is nothing short of mesmerizing, mouth hung open just enough that his tongue can drag over his bottom lip before his teeth are taking its place, eyes drawn to your skin.

Wordlessly, he pulls away on his own pair of shaky legs as he reaches for his wrinkled, worn shirt and brings it to your stomach, cleaning up the mess with a faint smile on his face.

“You know, I think it might take me a bit to fix my washer,” You tease, “so—I might be over here bothering you for a while.”

Joel peers up at you, his head still tucked down as he wiped at your stomach.

“Fine with me.”

Then he’s peering over your shoulder, watching as the washer time inched toward zero, dinging behind you. You turn around, letting your leg fall from his hip finally, ass brush against him in the process and Joel can’t help the way his eyes refuse to leave the sight of it.

Only feeling slightly guilty when you catch him this time, not giving him the pass you usually do.

“We’ve still got about an hour left if I dry them here,” You tell him, “anything else you wanna prove?”

Joel’s tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek, eyes dragging up toward the upper level of his house before flicking back toward you, a smile plastered on your face.

“I can think of a few things.”

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

[tsukii0002]

Imagine the contrast of the coexistence between Mc and Solomon, a human who did not know that magic was real until relatively recently and another human who has lived for centuries and who uses magic as if it were breathing.

Imagine that little things at home where Solomon is always willing to use magic to solve it, while Mc always beats him to it in the most common and least magical way possible.

But above all imagine, Solomon's frustration, how can his magic be rendered useless in such a way? And if he has no magic, what can he bring to that home?

Solomon: Remember that blanket I told you had a hole in it, I think it's time to mend it *opening one of his books*

Mc: I've already mended it, with a few stitches it's as good as new.

Solomon: Oh…

Solomon: Mc, what was the table that was broken?

Mc: Oh, don't worry, I fixed it.

Solomon: Really? What spell did you use?

Mc: Ha, ha, Solomon, you don't need magic to wedge a table.

Solomon: Mc!! With this spell we will solve our rat problem!

Mc: *smiling* I've already taken care of that, no for nothing Barbatos is so happy with me.

Solomon: That's how you earn your premium tea leaves?

Solomon: Please tell me you didn't fix the shelf that was sagging *with a book under his arm*

Mc: *eating a muffin* Oops.

Solomon: Mc, I told you I'd fix it *pointing at the. with the book*

Mc: Solomon, it was tightening two screws, it's going to take you longer to look up such a mundane spell than to fix it manually.

.

Solomon: Mc… you're a sorceress, you should use magic more!

Mc: *funny* And you should use magic less!!! You're still a human, old man. By the way, remember those yellow spots on the tablecloth that bothered you so much?

Solomon: Yeah?

Mc: Well, I've already made them disappear and without magic.

Solomon: How????

Solomon is sitting, somewhat annoyed, on one of the balconies

Mc: Hey…

Solomon: …

Mc: Are you upset?

Solomon: … No.

Mc: *sighing as they stands next to him* Let's talk, tell me, why does it bother you so much that I solve things without magic?

Solomon: I'm not upset, we don't need to talk at all.

Mc: You know that communication is part of living together right? We are two people with different ways of living, if we don't talk how are we going to have a good cohabitation?

Solomon: … With the brothers you never had that problem.

Mc: Sure I have, maybe not with these things because Lucifer encourages certain stuff to be done manually, but we had to set a lot of guidelines when I started living with them.

Solomon: ...

Solomon: *sighing* I'm not upset… it's just that I'm used to doing everything with magic, even the smallest things, it's easier, faster.

Mc: Well, sometimes yes, but sometimes it's easier to do it without magic, and in my case I'm used to not use magic.

Solomon: *looking at them* I know, but there are things I can't do without magic.

Mc: But that's what I'm for, isn't it?

Solomon: *doubting* Then' what do I bring to our cohabitation?

Mc: *realizing*

Solomon: You cook, you do a lot of chores because you are faster, and you take care of a lot of things that allow you to have a routine… I feel that instead of living together, I am a guest...

Mc: Solomon...

Solomon: And if I can't even use my magic, Am I useless? without my magic I…

The two are silent for a moment

Mc: I'm sorry, I've minimized how you feel… and I've done things my way without taking you into account.

Solomon: Ha, ha, don't worry, *now kind of sad* It's not that big of a deal.

Mc: No, I told you, communication is part of living together and you should tell me what bothers you.

Solomon: *looking at them*

Mc: We can try to find a middle ground.

Solomon: How?

Mc: *thoughtful* Well, the day to day things we can do manually and the things that are very difficult or tedious we can use magic?

Solomon: *considering it seriously'* You could also teach me how to do tasks without magic, like how to wedge a table… and I could teach you spells that I usually use, like the one that sweeps the house by itself.

Mc: *smiling* We can also make a schedule so we don't step on each other's to-dos.

Solomon: *smiling too* And create a chat room exclusively for house stuff where we can let each other know if we're going to do something.

Mc: That sounds like a great idea Solomon.

Solomon: *more lively* And I'd also like to do certain chores together, like laundry or cooking.

Mc: … *feeling bad at Solomon's happy face* Yes… we can do that too.

.

.

This turned out to be longer than I thought, and what started as something funny has turned into a drama😅. I'm not going to lie to you, I love domestic dramas, day to day problems… so this post has turned into that because Solomon is used to live in a very different way than Mc, and living together for the first time is always complicated and habits are hard to change, and co-living is not always so great. Give me domestic situations between Mc and the rest of the cast please!!!! 🥺🥺

Anyway, if you've made it this far, thank you very much for reading🩷

.

.

[rexscanonwife]

🌈 Welcome to WLWeek 2024 🌈

Hello everyone, I wanted to put together a nice, low-pressure event dedicated to my fellow wlw self shippers for one week of June because it's pride month, babey!! This is the first time I've ever tried to 'organize' an event, so take it easy on me, I'll try to be as communicative as possible and if anyone has questions about it, asks and DMs are always open!

On to the details! Its gonna last from Monday the 10th through Friday the 14th, and anyone can opt in or out as they see fit! No one is obligated to participate throughout the entire week or from the beginning alone, just do what you feel like!

RULES:

NO PROSHIPPERS/COMSHIPPERS/NEUTRAL, all blogs with that will be blocked on sight!

Obviously don't participate if you're not wlw/not shipping with a female character

Lesbians, bisexual, pansexual, sapphic, and once again general wlw/nblw are welcome!

Essentially I am tolerating NO funny business, and I won't tolerate bullying either so everyone be very niceys and hey, try to support each other! 💖💖💖 now onto the prompt list

Monday June 10th: Favorite style/aesthetic-

draw you and your female f/o in your favorite clothing style (goth, Y2K, cottagecore, etc.) Or what you think their favorite style would be! alt. for writers, write a drabble about going shopping for these outfits with your f/o!

Tuesday June 11th: Morning routine -

draw you and your female f/o getting ready for the day. Who's the early riser and who's dragging them back into bed? alt. for writers, write an early morning cuddle session/chat. 

Wednesday June 12th: Date night-

draw you and your female f/o on a date! Is it a dinner, a picnic? Are you guys dressed to the nines or at home in your jammies? Alt. for writers, write a date gone slightly awry. How do you fix things/compromise? 

Thursday June 13th: Beach day-

it's summertime, draw you and your female f/o in beachwear and enjoying the sun and sand! alt. for writers, write out a nice dip in the ocean! Can you swim? Can your f/o? Does one have to teach the other? Is it nice and relaxed or does it dissolve into splash fighting? 

Friday June 14th: Role/Ship Swap -

draw your f/o as the self shipper and you as the fictional character role they fill! What kind of s/i do they make? Would they write fanfic, draw fanart? Alt. for writers, write a gush post from ur f/o's point of view! 

And that's it!! Do one of them, do all of them, or do none of them, it's your choice! I just wanted to show some love to my fellow wlw self shippers out there this month and so something fun for them!

Now if you got this far and you read the rules make sure to put 'great googly moogly' in the tags when u rb! And don't forget to tag my blog here when you write/draw for this event!!! 🫶🫶 everyone who does will get a rb from me and a little promo as well, and maybe even a follow cause I need more wlw mutuals :3

[archerdepartures116]

Pet cafe au questions please!

With the AU world including the whole CQM Peak as mythology... would there be in au pitential for any of the pet formed peeps to gain a humanoid appearance? Or even just like a human-speech capacity?

Does Mingfan or Yingying appear in the au?

What are pet YQY and SJ like? SY ever catch them being particularly cute together?

Finally (for this ask anyways), what does a "usual" day look like for both SY and SQH?

woah this is a big ask (not that i mind i love these it gets my brain going)

First of all, I have been rotating the idea of giving them human forms like having them be able to be humans during the night but they're animals by day (there are many scenarios I can think of using this premise so tell me what y'all think)

im thinking that they also have some sort of animal to animal communication or like animal only telepathy among them

As for Ming fan and Ning Yingying, yes they do appear! They're humans

this girl is yingying (i haven't drawn Ming Fan yet lol)

Yqy and Sj do get along somewhat (although to SY and SQH it looks an awful like SJ is trying to bullying YQY due to all the swatting and hissing at him but they chalk it up to a capybara's unbothered nature at being so chill about it) and they do cuddle sometimes when they're napping (depends on how SJ's feeling tbh) (there are multiple photos of it much to SJ's dismay and YQY's delight)

and for the final question,

they work during the weekends and 3 days of the week (Monday, Wensday and Friday) (both have agreed to have 2 days off per week to rest cus they ain't about that 996 work life) (they also have side gigs on their days off incase they need extra funds to keep the cafe running)

SY and SQH wake up at 7-8 in the morning and one of them goes downstairs to set up everything while the other does their morning routine, then they swap once the one person is finished (they switch it up everyday)

they open at 10am and basically two man the operation with one being the cashier and one being the bartender as the animals roam free to allow customers to pet them (sometimes during rush hour they do both jobs but it depends on how busy it is but idk i've never worked at a cafe before)

they close around 6-7pm and the rest of the evening is taking care of the animals and cleaning up the cafe and putting everything away. They will also do their paper work and file everything during this time. Then at 10-11 pm they sleep.

On their days off, they just play with the animals and do random shit until the next day where it all repeats.

[wrtingsoftheunknown]

Vincent Sinclair HC

Vincent Sinclair hc SFW and NSFW

I’ve haven’t  been seeing my boy get repped recently so I have to do it myself. My first time writing something on here or towards this character ,I promise I will get better y'al,l I made this super quickly not proofread oops.

SFW

-While he can be insecure about his face he definitely has an ego from being the favorite child and having perfected his craft.

Lester drags him out to go for a ride around town or force him to come to his place for some quality brother time (Bo joins every now and then but wants peace and quiet dammit )

‘I know a lot of people have him learn sign language but I think he either writes what he wants to say, speaks as best as he can, or gestures, ( he was born in the south to parents that I don't think cared about communicating with him too much but he could have picked it up later in life maybe in his teen years or middle school era)

More sadistic than Bo when it comes to killing, he doesn't care if they are dead or alive when working on them and takes satisfaction in the result of his work

He prefers to work in silence but you can catch him humming now and then some country song or a guilty pleasure pop song from the 80’s( I see you Vince)

I think he partakes in multiple forms of art besides wax work.We see he’s able to paint, draw, but he also  takes pictures, , sews, writes, makes videos, anything artistic he’s learning and keeping up with new techniques.

Since he takes video of the killings at times I think they sell them as snuff films to make extra cash on top of stealing and selling victims stuff. (At least that’s what I thought when I first watched the film anyone else or just me)

Rarely happens but will keep victims that interest him like Bo ,but dispose of them when they get boring  or no longer match up the ideal version of them in his head.

-Does want a lifelong partner, the white wedding and picket fence, kids,  but knows it might be difficult with the line of work he does.

- He can talk but only does when it’s important or to emphasize something. He does have a southern draw like Bo and I imagine his voice to sound similar but raspier, maybe deeper/ quieter from not using it as much.

-like I said earlier you have to really catch his attention and be able to hold it for more than a week, if that happens then he’s obsessed and protective maybe a little too over protective.

Does indeed have a hair care routine I believe this full throttle and no one can can tell me otherwise I'm not listening.

NSFW

I don't know if he’s a virgin, I don't think he is something is telling me he isn't, but i’m not sure

He has no problem with nudity, bodies are seen as art, there's not as much of a sexual connotation with them as with Bo and Lester .

He wants to be in love with the person he is intimate with, he wants to be worship and worship his muse.

Drawings  of his partner naked as well as in the midst of a passionate night, he might tease them all night to make sure the sketch is as life like and accurate as possible

Good size and thick that's all I gotta say

Praise kink hard core, hearing his partner call him a good boy or how he makes them feel so good he will crumble

He starts slow and sensual, enjoys the control he has and having someone at his power.

I think he will edge you and leave you high and dry when you act out but he always caves by the end of the day and gives you what you need.

Can last a long time surprisingly

Mainly a giver but someone please for the love of god give this man the nastiest had he’s ever received will make the prettiest noises 

Is down to try anything new and more open about sex than you would think.

When he’s horny he comes up behind his partner and starts caressing every inch he can reach, while resting his chin on their shoulder acting as innocent as he can.

[tkimaginations]

How would Dragunov be as your partner, and what would his love languages be?

Our Favorite Russian is Coming… 

His relationships would be built on eye contact and non-verbal communication. Every entrance, interaction, and victory pose shows him staring seriously at his opponents—especially his enemies. 

If you’re an extroverted person who can easily talk to anyone, winning the White Angel of Death’s heart might be difficult. He does speak, but only when he truly wants to. However, if you respect his silence and understand that it’s one of his weapons—used to catch enemies by surprise—he will slowly begin to open up. 

If you're an introvert, the two of you would likely communicate through eye contact or text, since neither of you would want to use your voices much. Still, I see [character's name] being more open to talking than he is, as he has been quiet since his younger years. 

He wouldn’t be against affection, but he believes it’s best to show it only when you’re in the privacy of your shared home. Given the number of enemies the Russian army has, he wouldn’t want to put his love at risk—especially in the public eye during tournaments. 

Being a Taurus (born on May 11th), it’s easy to see that he is a workaholic, passionate about food, and stubborn—just like you. 

As for photos? Forget it. In real life, the Russian army has strict rules preventing soldiers from sharing anything on social media, and it wouldn’t be any different here. This is to prevent sensitive information from leaking to the world. Plus, Sergei himself is shy and dislikes photos. In one of his entrances, he even notices the camera filming him and immediately turns it away. If you try to take a picture of him, he’ll be as fast as he is in combat—dodging your every attempt. And if, by some lucky chance, you manage to snap a photo, he will stare at you with his icy blue eyes and insist that you delete it, frustrating you. But deep down, you understand that he’s only doing it to protect you from potential danger. 

To make him think of you while he’s working, you decide to give him a Polaroid of the two of you. In the picture, you're smiling, dressed in traditional Russian festival attire, while he remains serious, quietly observing you. Puzzled, he asks how you managed to get the photo, and you simply reply with a wink. - I have my methods, Major.

He would study the photo with a curious expression before giving a dry, “Thank you.” He may not show it outright, but he secretly loves having the picture in his wallet, a reminder of how happy his partner is. With his demanding schedule as a major, the days he spends with you are precious. 

At bedtime, if you have a bad sleeping routine, he will help you rest earlier. He notices how grumpy and tired you get when you don’t sleep well, but instead of scolding you, he watches patiently. If after 20 minutes you still haven’t gone to bed, he will pick you up and carry you there himself. If you’re being stubborn—working or studying late and falling asleep at your desk—he will gently turn off your computer, scoop you up in his strong arms (already dressed in his pajamas), and place you in bed. 

Once in bed, you feel his warmth beside you and hug him from behind, surprising him at first. But over time, he grows accustomed to it. In fact, he prefers being the little spoon, as it makes him feel loved when you hold him close. 

And we can’t forget about his singing! It’s adorable how he hums after winning a fight. However, at the beginning of your relationship, he would be too shy to sing in front of you. 

You know he enjoys singing, but since he’s introverted and reserved, you pretend not to notice when he hums a classic Russian song. But when he hums while doing house chores and you’re tired or deep in thought, you can’t help but smile, thinking about how cute he is when he lets his guard down.  

You love the Soviet band Kino, and he would be surprised to hear you singing their meaningful lyrics—making Dragunov smirk at you.

Before you started dating, you already had a Russian Blue cat—shy around strangers but affectionate with those he trusts. Surprisingly, the cat took an immediate liking to Dragunov, rubbing against him and purring. Dragunov, though initially caught off guard, gently stroked the cat, making him comfortable. Seeing your two favorite Russians together melted your heart. 

[hyunniesgirl]

Hey I’m in the mood for some angst so can I pls request Hyunjin coming home stressed from practice and reader just being really nonchalant and not listening to him when he tries to communicate with her and she accidentally raises her voice at him when he asks her to do something and he gets really upset and overwhelmed but she doesn’t know until later when he’s crying and she apologizes and they make up 🥳

Hey babes!! Thank you for the request and I'm so sorry it took me so long to answer it, I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind but it's what I came up with. I hope you like it.

I struggle a lot with writing angst and I wanted to give it my best that's why I took my time, I want to get better at writing this kind of genre so any feedback and more requests like this are always welcomed!!

Warnings: angst and a bit of fluff

Hyunjin comes back home after a 14 hour long practice. He's exhausted, his entire body hurts and his head feels like it's going to explode any minute. The entire ride home all he can think about is how much he wants to see your face, he just knows he'll feel better the moment he listens to your voice. He wants to kiss you until you fall asleep by his side, that's what he needs to feel better.

When he gets home, though, you're all over the place, walking around in a tight dress, looking for the shoes you want. You don't acknowledge his presence, stopping in front of the mirror to fix your hair. You look pretty, he likes when you dress up but he doesn't think you're dolling up for him.

"Where are you going?", he asks, startling you. You don't turn around to look at him, just talking to his reflex in the mirror.

"I'm going to go out with the girls", you answer.

"Oh", he says. He thought you would stay with him tonight, he really needed that.

He heads towards the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water. Should he ask you to stay? That wouldn't be nice of him, right? But he wants to cuddle with you until he feels better, he wants you to stay with him.

"How was work?", you ask, walking into the kitchen while putting on your earrings.

"Pretty bad", he answers, "I'm tired"

"You always are", you point out, indifferently. His routine is hectic, of course he'll be tired.

"I'm just feeling really bad", he whispers, tightening his grip on the bottle he's holding but you don't say anything, he's not sure if you even heard him. You're typing on your phone and he doesn't want to disturb you, so he waits for you to pay attention to him but you don't.

He sighs, why does he keep trying? You're obviously uninterested in him at the moment, maybe you have someone better to pay attention to.

He shakes his head, he can't start thinking like that, you don't like it when he gets jealous and he knows he won't be able to stop if he gives room to these thoughts.

Either way, he's upset. He's feeling sad and exhausted and you're not giving him any affection so he decides to be selfish.

"Can't you stay with me?" He asks and you look at him, brows furrowed.

"Are you serious?" You ask, he can tell you're angry.

"I'm just not feeling alright, I wanted to stay with you till I feel better"

You sigh.

"Yeah, okay", you say that but he knows you're not happy about it. Maybe he shouldn't have asked.

You start undressing and he stays there, standing in the kitchen feeling bad, worse than before.

"Can we talk?" He asks, following you to your shared room while you take your dress off and put on your pajamas, typing on your phone again.

"I don't have anything to say", you glance at Hyunjin, seeing him at the door.

"I didn't want to bother you, I just don't want to be alone", he says and you scoff.

"Well, you already did. It's whatever", you answer louder than you meant to.

He wants to cry, but he won't do it in front of you. He's sure he already ruined your night, he won't make you feel bad about this too. So he turns around and heads to the room he uses as a studio, maybe painting will help him feel a little better.

But the moment the brush touches the canvas he feels the tears brimming out of his eyes, he can't control it but he tries not to make too much noise.

He could exhaust himself at work for an entire week but that wouldn't feel as bad as it feels when you're indifferent towards him. Maybe he was right before, maybe you did find someone else. Someone that didn't have to travel so much, someone who didn't have to hide you from the world, someone that would be there when you needed them.

You shouldn't have gotten mad at Hyunjin. He just wanted to be next to you and you should be happy about that, he rarely has a day off or any time to rest. You think he's probably angry at you right now and that he won't want to speak with you, so you order his favorite food to soothe his grumpiness.

But when you open the door to his studio to let him know the food has arrived, your heart breaks. Hyunjin is crying while painting, his face is red leading you to believe he's been like that for some time now. It feels like the world is crumbling down around you, was he crying because of you?

"Hyunnie?" You ask, getting closer, he tries to whip his tears but you're already kneeling by his side, "are you crying?", you grab his hands and pull them away from his face, he looks down.

"It's nothing", he says and your heart sinks, he really was crying because of you.

"I- I'm sorry I got mad, I'm an idiot"

He looks at you, staring for a moment before speaking.

"Did you fall in love with someone else?"

"What?" You ask, horrified.

"You were treating me like I'm a burden, like interacting with me would kill you", he takes a deep breath, some tears still running down his face. "It looked like you were texting someone much more important than me on the phone"

"Of course not, I was talking to my friends", what the hell were you doing all this time? If you had done a better job in this relationship he would never feel this insecure, "I could never love someone other than you"

"Then, why were you acting like that?" He asks, still sad, but feeling relieved that you didn't hesitate to deny his accusation.

"I didn't mean to sound like that", you sigh, "I was mean because I felt frustrated but I have no excuse for treating you like that and I'm really really sorry"

You lift your hands, cupping his face.

"I'm sorry I made you feel like I didn't care, you're everything to me, everything I have ever wanted and everything I want now and forever, don't you ever think otherwise", you kiss him between his eyebrows, then the tip of his nose and finish landing a peck on his lips.

You're feeling bad, not because he's crying but because you know you hurt him. Hyunjin is always doing his best for you and you reward him by treating him badly? That won't do. You have to make sure he knows how much he means to you.

"I love you, you are it for me", you say looking deeply into his eyes, "from now on I'll make sure to always show you how much I love you, okay?"

Hyunjin nods, smiling slightly.

"I'm sorry I made you stay at home", he mumbles.

"Don't. You're much more important to me than going out, alright? I can go out with my friends whenever I want, but I can't always cuddle with my boyfriend and make him feel better after a shitty day"

You grab his hand, interlacing your fingers and pulling him out of the studio.

"I ordered your favorite, let's watch a movie after we eat, okay? Tell me everything about your awful day", you say to him while setting the table.

Hyunjin looks at you, it's cute seeing you trying to make it up to him. God, he loves you so much, you could do anything to him and he'd still love you.

[autisticlancemcclain]

part one

———

Lance keeps his word — it doesn’t take long for him to really get the hang of his telepathy thing, and then he really is in Keith’s head more often than he isn’t.

That’s not entirely fair, Keith supposes. He has a pretty good hang of the telepathy thing too, and Lance showed him early on how to put up a pretty thick mental block if he needs some privacy, or even just a break. He knows how to keep his mindscape quiet and personal, if need be.

But the thing is…he rarely bothers.

He likes having Lance in his head, or vice versa. It’s crazy, and he never would have expected it of himself, but having the constant presence of his best friend in the back of his head; talking, humming, or just being, has turned into a massive comfort.

The desperate loneliness he grew up with, although slowly disappearing over the years he’s had Voltron, has faded into almost nothingness. He likes Lance’s noise in his head. It makes communication during battle a lot easier, too.

He’s yet to feel the rest of the team as strongly in his head — he certainly can’t hold conversations with anyone else — but he feels as if the connection that has been constantly present since they formed Voltron for the first time is stronger, maybe. As if he feels a little closer to all his friends.

That’s really mushy, Lance informs him in his mind. You’re a massive softie marshmallow. I can’t believe I ever thought you were cool.

Keith sits up, abandoning his fourth set of push-ups to find Lance across the training room, doing some sort of gymnastic routine (blatantly showing off for some of the younger members of the Atlas. He’s not even trying to pretend he isn’t, smirking whenever they point at him and whisper to each other in awe when he does a quadruple in-air backflip or something that serves no actual training purpose).

Keith frowns at him. I am so cool.

Are not. You’re a squishy softie marshmallow that cries during Finding Nemo.

Everyone cries during Nemo! Keith defends huffily. It’s a heart-wrenching movie!

Lance doesn’t say anything back, but Keith can feel the impression of his laughter. It’s a hard thing to conceptualise, because he’s not really laughing, and there’s no sound of laughter even in his mindscape, but Keith feels the teasing joy bleeding from him. The best way he’s come to describe it, after weeks of trying to put words to the feeling as he falls asleep, is the feeling he gets when a joke lands, combined with the kind of raw freedom that comes with running in a dead sprint for no reason other than the pleasure of running. Something concentrated and all-encompassing and heart-turning. That’s what Lance’s laughter feels like.

And Keith won’t stand for it. It’s one thing for Lance to tease him with his words, poking fun at him with his wide, sparkling grin, but to make fun of Keith for the thoughts he’s thinking in his own head?

He will not lie down at the dishonour.

Grinning in anticipation, he scoops up his luxite blade, lining up the shot and throwing with deadly accuracy. The blade spins through the air, so fast it whistles, directly at Lance’s head. If he doesn’t dodge, it will kill him.

But Lance will dodge. He knew Keith was going to throw the blade before he even made the decision to throw it.

Gasps ripple through the training room, several people shouting in alarm as the blade comes closer and closer to killing the Red Paladin of Voltron. Milliseconds before it hits, just as someone opens their mouth to scream a warning, Lance moves, faster than the eye can track, pulling out his bayard and transforming it in the same moment, batting Keith’s blade out of the air with his broadsword like it’s a baseball.

He grins, wide and manic and jumping to the challenge, to the spar.

“That all you got, Mullet?” he calls, swinging his blade like the cocky shithead he is. Keith can hear the impression of his laughter again; he’s dizzy with it, drunk off the heady feeling.

“Not even a little bit,” he says, activating his own bayard. Without needing to say a word, they both charge forward at the same time, arms drawn back and swords heavy with potential energy, meeting in the middle of the training room with a clash of their blades, so hard it sends vibrations up their arms.

The shouts of alarm from the rest of the crew turn into whoops of excitement, as people fan out into a circle to give them space. Keith is relatively certain he sees Pidge and Matt organizing bets out of the corner of his eye.

Ready for a show? Lance’s voice echoes in his head. Distantly, he hears Red’s howling roar, the proud lion wrapping her energy with her paladin, gleefully telling Keith how much she looks forward to seeing her cub wipe the floor with him.

She is a very competitive entity, Red. It sparks something in Black, too, who gets up from her perch in a rare display of headstrong pride and wraps her energy around Keith to match.

You’re going to lose, Keith taunts.

Fat chance, Mullet.

Their strikes are less choreographed, now that a real challenge has been issued, and more than their own pride is at stake. There is no real fight here — whether or not Keith wins, he doesn’t truly care.

(But he’d fuckin’ love having something to hold over Lance’s head for a bit. Better if he could be smug in Lance’s head, where he can’t stomp away with a sulk and a claim that Keith was cheating.)

Swordplay with Lance is difficult. It’s always difficult, because Lance uses a sword in every way except how a sword is meant to be used — Keith has seen him use it as a javelin, a bat, even a vault stick — but it’s only gotten harder since Lance has had access to his mind, because Lance hears and feels his every move, anticipating his every trick. Neither of them have managed to win the upper hand for long, and it won’t be long before the other resorts to dirty tactics.

Keith eyes his forgotten luxite blade. He might be the first, actually.

Forcing himself to think of a flurry of random things, practically throwing a wad of unconnected, unsorted thoughts in Lance’s presence in his head to distract him, he dives to the side, reaching for his blade. Lance realises a split second too late to stop him, and his broadsword comes millimetres away from the skin of Keith’s ribcage as he dodges. He closes his fingers around the softened leather of the blade’s handle, and whips around to face his opponent, bayard in his right hand and luxite blade in his left. By the time he’s ready again to fight, even though he’s only taken mere seconds to grab his weapon, Lance has already flipped several meters back, bayard in his hand transformed to his blaster.

Cheater, the both think at the same time, identical smirks on their faces.

Lance fires six quick shots, aiming at vital places in his body. His shots are all true — Lance doesn’t miss — and Keith barely manages to slide out of the way, one of the laser blasts grazing the side of his neck, burning him.

Lance hasn’t bothered to set his gun to stun. Keith can’t blame him. It’s more fun with the risk.

He rushes at Lance, both swords extended, aiming a slash at the Cuban’s arm with one blade and a stab through his torso with the other — he’ll only be able to dodge one. He’ll either have to yield or take a slice, get a painful hit that will slow him down.

Somehow, though, Lance contorts himself, bending his body in a way that it honestly should not be able to bend and narrowly avoiding both blades, hitting the floor with a heavy slam and aiming a sweeping kick for Keith’s knees to take him down with him. Keith jumps to avoid his powerful legs, somersaulting over his head.

“Oh, boo!” someone, who is most definitely Shiro, calls from the crew. Keith almost forgot they were watching, he’s so caught up in the fight. “Come on, Lance! Get his ass!”

If Keith had the time — that is if Lance let up his assault for even one second, which Keith knows he won’t — he’d roll his eyes. Since he doesn’t, he settles for making a mental note to raid Shiro’s room later and steal the last of the Reese’s he packed from Earth.

Oh, that’s diabolical, Lance thinks at him.

Keith grunts, swiping at the hand holding his blaster. If you help me I’ll give you half.

The offer startles a laugh out of Lance, distracting him for just long enough that Keith gains the split-second advantage, placing the blade of his bayard under Lance’s wrist and twisting until Lance is forced to drop his gun or lose his hand.

“Fuck!” several people yell at the same time. Next comes the unmistakable sound of money changing hands.

“Sucks to suck”, Keith taunts, because he can’t help himself.

But Lance looks undeterred. “It does, doesn’t it.” He aims a heavy kick right for Keith’s sternum, and since Keith is too close to move away and not flexible enough to dodge, it lands square where Lance aims it, the heel of his foot knocking the breath from Keith’s lungs and blurring his vision. He drops his swords when the sudden lack of oxygen makes his hands to weak to grip them.

Lance takes advantage of Keith’s momentary weakness, catapulting forward for an assault. Unfortunately for him, his intentions bleed loud and clear through their bond, and Keith hits the floor with a gasp so Lance can’t wrap his legs around Keith’s neck to choke him out.

Lance curses, falling forward with a flail when his assault doesn’t hit, momentum completely overshot. He barely manages to catch himself before his head smacks into Keith’s, and for half a second he stays there, hovering above where Keith lays flat and tense, ready for the next move.

You come here often? Lance teases, and it’s genuinely such a horrible line that Keith groans out loud. They tussle on the ground for several moments, each trying to gain the upper hand, but it’s literally impossible — neither of them is particularly stronger than the other, so there’s no advantage there, and not only are they completely matched, stroke for stroke, punch for punch, but every move they try is completely anticipated by the other. There’s no way that Keith can win. He can try to spend the next who knows how long exhausting Lance, but they’ve already been training for a while — they’re both tired as all hell. And as much as Keith kind of likes Lance’s hands on him, he can’t forget that there are people watching. He has a reputation.

Truce? he offers.

Yeah, Lance concedes, sighing melodramatically. I suppose I’ll let you call a draw.

Keith rolls his eyes as hard as he can — leave it to Lance to be such a goober about it, even though Keith can literally feel that he wants to call it as much as Keith does.

At the exact same time, they spring apart, setting some space in between them to catch their breaths. Once they’ve had a minute to recover, Lance stands, stepping over to Keith and offering his hand. Keith takes it, pulling himself up.

All the gathered crew groans out loud.

“Another draw?” one of the MFE pilots mutters.

“At least they’re wicked cool to watch,” her friend says.

Keith would be able to feel how much Lance preens at that even if they werent telekinetically bonded.

In minutes most of the crew has dispersed, no longer interested now that there isn’t a fight to watch. Some of them go back to whatever equipment they were training on earlier, but many of them file out of the training room entirely, moving onto other things. Keith and Lance make their way over to the rest of the team, collapsing down to the floor next to them.

“You guys are super duper lame,” Pidge informs them, offering them both a water pouch. Keith takes his gratefully, not bothering with the straw and tearing off the top, chugging them whole thing down in one go. Allura looks at him in mild disgust, which makes Keith grin, because if he’s being entirely, one hundred percent honest, he really only did that to get a rise out of her because he knows she hates it when he does that.

“You’re a liar,” Lance responds, sipping on his juice pouch much slower than Keith does. “We just provided you with what was essentially a full-stakes WWE fight, except Keith and I are both way cooler than any of those losers and there were weapons involved.”

“Weapons, but no drama,” Hunk argues. “You guys barely even spoke to each other. Just fight, fight, fight. Where’s the fun in that? Where’s the nuance?”

“I didn’t hear you clown Keith even one time,” Shiro adds, because he’s safely out of range of Keith’s pinching fingers. “Two out of ten Keith and Lance fight. I’m disappointed.”

Keith snorts. “Oh, he clowned me plenty.”

The second the words exit his mouth, he feels Lance go rigid beside him, and a sense of panic comes through their bond.

Shut the fuck up shut the fuck up shut the fuck up, Lance tells him desperately.

Keith looks at him strangely, but Lance doesn’t provide any more context, looking at a particular spot on the floor as if it’s endlessly fascinating.

“He did?” Coran asks. He looks at Keith with a mix of intrigue and something he can’t place, something almost knowing. “I heard nothing of the sort.”

“Well, you wouldn’t hear it, per se,” Keith says slowly.

Lance screams unintelligibly in his head. Keith gets a distinctive picture of him in his own mindscape, yelling in anguish, as the Red Lion laughs herself to tears beside him.

What is your problem? Keith tries to ask, but mind-Lance ignores him in favour of his misery.

Pidge narrows her eyes at the two of them. “Clarify yourself immediately.”

“The mind bond?” Keith says, voice turning up at the end of the sentence like it’s a question. “You know, that Lance worked on with Red. So that we could communicate with each other using our existing emotional bonds with Voltron, just a couple steps farther. I know you guys haven’t used it much, but I just figured you weren’t into it.”

Silence.

Heavy, disbelieving silence. Each other member of the team looks at Keith with dropped jaws and wide eyes, like what Keith just said is something out of a science fiction novel rather than something they all should have been able to do for weeks, since that meeting with Iverson.

Keith suddenly gets the very distinct feeling that he has, perhaps, fucked up.

“Yeah, no shit,” Lance says, a little hysterically. His face is so red that he rivals his own lion. Keith can actually feel the heat pouring off of him, and the feeling from the bond is worse — Lance is dripping with mortification. “How am I in your fucking head and you still can’t follow my instructions?!”

“You didn’t tell me it was supposed to be a secret!” Keith defends, rapidly going red himself.

He can scarcely believe what is happening right now. Lance has told him that the point of the bond was to make the whole team get closer, but he’d only ever bothered to build something with Keith.

The whole time, from the very beginning, his goal was to share his deepest thoughts and feelings with Keith, no one else.

Oh, God.

“Oh, God,” Shiro repeats, but his tone is vastly different from the way Keith was thinking it. His expression can only be described as evilly and maniacally delighted, like every horrible hope of his has come true at once. “This is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“Oh my God,” Lance says, the third person to say it. His face is buried in his hands, body half-curled up, like if he compresses himself small enough he can disappear into nothing.

“So that’s why it’s like you two share one half a braincell!” Hunk exclaims. “You actually do!”

Pidge and Allura crack up at Hunk’s joke, or maybe it’s Lance they’re laughing at. Either way, Keith feels his head spin.

Lance has literally manipulated the quintessence of Voltron specifically and only so he can talk to Keith in his own brain, communicate the emotions he doesn’t have the words for.

Manipulated. The quintessence of the universe’s greatest and most mysterious weapon. To find more ways to talk to Keith.

Keith is generally kind of a dense person, but he’s sure as shit not that dense.

“Hey,” he says, shifting away from the rest of his team that has rapidly lost their minds and is laughing themselves hoarse, placing a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Look at me.”

I am going to kill you dead, Lance threatens in his mind, too embarrassed to make his mouth work.

No, you’re not, Keith replies, and pulls Lance’s hands away from his face, yanking him close and finally pressing their lips together, no longer waiting for some obscure and future proof that Lance loves him. It’s obvious, with the way he softens, melts into Keith’s hands, and the way something warm and soft and floaty flows through their bond.

Lance changed reality for him.

His love could not be more clear.

[helianthus-tarot]

GENERAL: 3 things you should do more & why

As usual, with tarot, it gets spiritual. But I also included extra things like activities you can do and advice card in each pile. There are three points in each pile, so it is up to you if you want to split the reading; for example, if you want to choose Pile A number 1 for the first suggestion, Pile D number 2 for the second suggestion, Pile C number 3 for the third suggestion. Or just choose one pile for all three suggestions.

Disclaimer: Here | Instagram: Here

Instructions: Focus on the topic and ask yourself the question. Choose a number/picture that you feel the most drawn to or that you can’t stop looking at. Trust your intuition. May the message resonate. Let me know which pile you choose! Feedback is appreciated!

Like my readings? Tip here!

PILE A

Queen of Swords (10 of Pentacles), 7 of Swords (The Hermit), 10 of Wands Rx (7 of Pentacles)

1. Prioritize what you know you need to prioritize. Fix and hold/maintain your boundaries. I wonder if some of you cross your own boundaries too, or do things to yourself that you know you shouldn’t— dishonoring yourself or your boundaries in some way. Speak your mind more. This will allow you to build a more stable life for yourself (it will lead to more stability and getting to build a life that you desire).

2. Keep some aspects of yourself private, not everyone deserves to know what you are up to, not everyone should have access to you. Plan your life/day more and move in silence. You will be able to protect your peace better this way, and some of you probably need your space to feel more like yourself and to cultivate mental independence. If you chose this number specifically, please read the advice card below.

3. Let go of burdens and responsibilities that aren't yours to take. Relax more, pace yourself better, you will get what you aim for even if you do it slowly. Sometimes trying to carry too much can lead to ineffectiveness and things not working out. Some of you may also be overburdening yourself with things that you shouldn’t because you want to avoid drama and conflicts. Some of you do this because you feel like you are running out of time.

Advice card: Communication, “I am a masterful communicator with the ability to say what I think and feel in a way that doesn’t invoke conflict. Watch as I dodge the bullets of sass and snark. Marvel as I avoid the traps of passive-aggressiveness and victimhood. Be amazed that even though it’s sometimes stressful, I choose to communicate— an act that saves us all from the grips of certain unspoken seething.”

Extra: Food hunting, Clubbing & Partying; (go out to eat and have fun), Daydreaming (be clear about your vision), Being Online (be intentional with your screen time and the content you seek, instead of scrolling mindlessly)

PILE B

King of Pentacles, Page of Swords (Justice), The Fool (4 of Cups, 6 of Swords)

1. Look at your life and see how you can increase the quality of your life; how you can make your home life better, what habits you can cultivate to help you feel more stable in yourself, your routine, living space, furniture and so on. Live your life in a way that can help you build more stability and comfort, in a way that brings you long-term rewards. Manage your personal finance wisely. Some of you are advised to connect more to your roots, history and culture. If you chose this number specifically, please read the advice card below.

2. Embrace your curiosity. Follow the flow of what piques your mind. Yes, even if you are interested in 32532 different hobbies or topics at the same time, find time to engage with them all. Not everything you explore has to stay forever in your life (you don't have to commit to everything), but that does not mean you shouldn’t experience them at all. Share those things that you have learned and that excite you with others. It will help you develop mental agility and be wiser.

3. Be open to life and take more risks. Go out and explore the world. Start something new, whether or not it will lead to anything substantial, we never really know what will and what won't. Approach life lightly, with childlike wonder. It will help move you away from your past disappointment and dissatisfaction.

Advice card: Prep Work, “I make friends with the quiet loners— Organization and Planning— and I suddenly realize how cool they are. I start hanging out with them, and I bend to their influence. I even allow them to give my daily habits a makeover. Normally I wouldn’t succumb to peer pressure, but isn’t efficiency the best? C’mon, just let me fill in one more bullet journal, I promise I’ll be able to stop.”

Extra: Sightseeing & Going to the museum, Collecting, Photography & Videography (take more pictures, record your memories, make a scrapbook journal), Fishing (be around bodies of water more; the beach, lake, pool, have an aquarium or set up a small decorative fountain in your space, etc).

PILE C

3 of Pentacles (The Sun), 10 of Swords, 7 of Cups (8 of Pentacles)

1. Ask for help more often. Even if you can do something alone, sometimes it benefits you if you let other people help you. Getting help is not the only benefit; forming connections, starting an interaction, exchanging resources and network are among the benefits. You never know who knows a person who knows a person who has the resources that can make your life better.

2. Sit down with yourself and really take your time understanding why you are dealing with the pain and stress you are dealing with. Some of these things require attention, and if you experience delay or obstacles or difficulty that stop you in your path or weigh you down until the point you can’t move forward, maybe it is time to stop and heal. Investigate the source of stress and pull it out one by one, and love yourself through every step.

3. Regularly look at the things that show up in your life, and really ask yourself what’s good and what’s bad for you, filter them according to this standard. Not everything that seems and feels good is actually good, not everything that seems bad and feels bad is actually bad. Look at your own qualities too, there are things that we carry in ourselves that can lead us astray, and there are things that we carry in ourselves that are actually helping us. This may be the step that starts your self-improvement journey.

Advice Card (this one is a bit more cryptic than the others): Lunch, “I eat my own food and I let others eat their own food. If there is not a name on the food and I didn’t buy the food, I use my brain to remember that I didn’t buy the food and I assume that someone else bought the food.”

Extra: Occult (self-introspection, get to know yourself activities, spiritual activities or activities that can make you feel more connected to the Universe, nature and the world around you), Fashion & Style (take care of your appearance and hygiene more, wear clothes that make you feel happy every day)

PILE D

Judgment (Wheel of Fortune), 9 of Pentacles (King of Cups), Queen of Cups Rx (The Sun)

1. Regularly look back on your past and actions you took, what you did that helped you succeed or produce a desired/positive result, and what you did/didn’t do that didn’t help you. Learn what you should do again to repeat the desired result. Apply the knowledge. Looking back on the past also means noticing the patterns that have appeared in your life, which also helps you notice similar patterns in the present, this will help you navigate your present and future better.

2. Embrace gratitude and just enjoy your life. A lot of you have worked hard enough to get to this point, you deserve to enjoy yourself. Sure the journey hasn’t ended yet, and many of you have long journeys ahead of you— but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy what you have now. This is good for your emotional and mental health; it will help you feel more emotionally balanced and stable instead of feeling drained.

3. Avoid approaching life with feelings all the time. It’s common to process life events emotionally, for example, when something happens we might be like “this is so boring to do” “that is so unpleasant” “I want to do this but I feel like” and whatnot, but it will be simpler if we just see things as 'actions to take' and that’s it, don’t let yourself move past the awareness of the facts (of the situation) and start feeling something about the facts. This is one of the things that go-getters do; they just act, they don’t think or feel much about every single thing in their life and in their to-do list. It will make you happier and make it easier to move in life.

Advice Card: Consideration, “I’m a considerate person, and my new goal is radical conscientiousness. From now on, I’ll leave every space tidier than I found it; I’ll find small ways to support a teammate even if they didn’t ask for it.”

Extra: Watching movies (watch more movies, drama or tv shows), being out in nature (you can also try being more active physically, like doing sports or other physical activities that have positive impacts on your health).

[derww]

DAY 25: VOID

At first, she thinks that she got something wrong. Because- of course, they are sick in their heads, but it can't be- maybe she missed anything? Maybe it's a figurative expression?

 

– What? What do you mean? – she asks, feeling as if the carpet had been torn out from under her feet...

 

– Well, yes, – Bacon confirms, – this is the last part of the initiation. It's like a trust fall. It may be difficult for you at first, but it's a matter of practice. We are already doing it pretty well overall. If we are not being thrown, of course. There's usually just not enough time to focus.

 

She looks around, trying to figure out if Bacon is serious. Mapicc does not pay any attention to the conversation, staring at the communicator, and Zam, on the contrary, glares at her, smiling broadly and as if barely restraining himself. She is surprised that at this point he has not yet started to put empty rails next to them and shoot them.

 

She laughs nervously.

 

– And how do you do it? Can you demonstrate?

 

– Sure, why not, – Bacon shrugs. A voidhole is right in front of them, and the void begins just several blocks below, and he comes close to it, calmly peering into the void, and then turns around at her. – Look, Jumper, everything is quite simple. Do you remember how the Abyss came into contact with you? It happens when you're, you know, in such a special state of relaxation and openness, right? Do you understand what I mean?

 

– Yes, yes, of course, – she babbles. She has no idea what he is talking about. The Abyss has never spoken to her – and she has never actually tried to get in touch with her.

 

– Well, basically yes, – Bacon agrees, – you need to get in touch with her, the stronger the bond, the better. As long as the Abyss sees you as her adeptus, she will accept you.

 

Imperceptibly and imperturbably, as if doing nothing unusual, he jumps down without turning around, and she runs to the edge, and Bacon is there – standing on a missing surface, in the air, on the void, and he is not even wearing elytra. He looks like it's something completely routine – he walks around for a bit and then turns around at her.

 

– Did you understand how? – he asks distantly. He's bouncing a little bit. – We need to do this more often. That's cool.

 

Zam rushes past her and, laughing, jumps after Bacon, and visibly effortlessly stays on the surface of the border. While she stares at both of them, calmly strolling through nonexistent matter, feeling fear clutching her chest, Mapicc jumps too – he lands between Bacon and Zam and then yawns – either from fatigue, or boredom altogether. Standing on the void. Being one step away from death. Being supported only by a chthonic deity with unknown motives and practices. Icy sweat flows on her back.

 

– It's your turn! – Zam shouts to her as if they were not standing ten blocks away from her, – don't be afraid, just give yourself up to enter and jump!

 

That's what she realizes at this moment: she can't. She had never even heard the Abyss, not even as a whisper or suggestion, as surface contact with it was described. She didn't stand a chance. She's already lost. And they didn't even try to buy it, did they?

 

��� Yes, give me a little more time! – She answers and forces herself to pull herself together. She was infinitely far away from the divine bullshit, but right now she just needed to make herself feel like one of the Abyss members. It's not so difficult. She knew how to play a role, after all.

 

She just needs to- yes. She is a member of the Abyss. She looked into the Abyss and saw its deepest charms and spoke to her. She is an adepus dedicated to her goddess and the fulfillment of her will and was endowed with knowledge and abilities for it. She is devoted to the Abyss and devoted to her team, who saved her from loneliness and gave her a new home and purpose...

 

She feels a faint prick on the top of her head. She gets a strange and incomprehensible feeling of lightness. This body is both hers and not hers at all, and all the muscles are relaxed in it. She's definitely in a trance. Is this what was expected of her?

 

She slowly walks to the very edge and looks distantly at the people standing below. For some reason, she feels absolutely nothing. A whisper in an unfamiliar language covers her ears.

 

She jumps, and it's so easy to understand the moment when she reaches the height of the border – she can almost see the surface itself, absolutely transparent, reminiscent of itself rather by the sensation and movement of shadows – and she's going to join the members of the Abyss, but for some reason absolutely nothing picks her up, and she falls like a stone. She doesn't have enough time to put on her elytras.

[manitole]

Emmrich x Rook = Ideas for Fanfic

 (This is going to be a REALLY long post)

Context: I’m an awkward millennial that doesn’t know Tumblr very well. I apologize in advance if this post is weird and not perfect, I’m still learning. My activities on this platform are mostly resharing awesome post on my page. Since the last few weeks, I must admit that the communities here around my tags are incredible, positive, academic and just kind of healing my heart. For this reason, I feel comfortable trying to be a little more invested. Introduction to the main theme: I’m really happy to see that I’m far from being the only one to be obsessed and hyperfocused on Emmrich Volkarin, especially his romance with Rook. His personality is different from my typical fictional crushes: this fact had opened new possibilities about scenarios in my imagination. The main theme: I love to write, but I have a thesis to finish. Plus, I’ve already started two fanfictions and I’m not close to be done with those two stories. Since I’m lacking time, experience in fanfiction, knowledge in the DA universe and expertise in the English language (I’m a native French speaker), I must conclude that writing a fanfic Emmrich X Rook would not be the best idea right now. I would LOVE to share some of my ideas if it can inspire some people out there:

A – Too much rigidity versus chaotic (Mortal): I would LOVE to see a fanfic which addresses the mountain struggles of Rook and Emmrich living together after the story of the game. This man has been alone for a long time. We don’t know if he already lived with someone else during a long period of time. Emmrich likes to have his books ‘’pristine’’. I’m also guessing he has a strict routine regarding mealtime. I see Rook being kind of chaotic, as letting their underwear lying around where they needed to remove them (around a bed, coffin, or on the dinning table after some sexy time… why not). I could also see Rook inviting old friends for a late dinner, at the last minute, while Emmrich is already in his night gown, ready to sleep. Anyway, I would LOVE to see character’s development around those struggles: Emmrich learning to be a little more flexible while Rook is learning to be a little less disorganized.

B – Feeling bored after saving the world (Mortal): Could be related with point A or not. I know that everyone has different opinions, but so far, I preferred Rook to also be a Mourn Watcher. It seems natural to think that after the end of the game, Emmrich, Rook and Manfred are going back to Neverra. I could see Emmrich going back to teaching. I could see both possibilities where he is satisfied with this (with Rook and Manfred in his life) VERSUS feeling bored after travelling so often for saving the world. I’m not sure what Rook would want to do with their life after the war. Could they even be able to stay at one place? I could see them needed to travel and leave Neverra for sometimes for fighting or geopolitical stuff. I could also see Rook being done with that kind of life and wanting a normal happy and almost boring routine. Let’s talk about marriage. We all know that Emmrich always thought he would get married someday. Would he be ready to marry Rook? If yes, does it mean that he has outcome the age gap problem (?). I don’t know about Rook since the character vary from person to person. They could want to wait for marriage. I see this possibility more in the Mortal route since I have NO idea how Lichdom works and if a Lich can marry someone…

Now. I must explain before going on with my next idea. I’m not a fan of any pronatalist outcome. I don’t think a couple should have children to be happy or have some news goals. I also love stories and fanfic that show childfree happy people. Having children is not and should not be seen as a normal progression of life. It’s a choice and it should be a free and informed joint decision. Childfree couples are NOT less interesting than parents. But I also can see the difference between real life and fiction, especially in a fantastic universe like DA. I think some fanfic that adds children into the story can be a good thing, especially if those are kind of REALISTIC (happy rainbow sunshine without any struggles at all) and talk about more than only the positive of parenthood. Now, we could argue about Manfred. For me, as a couple, Emmrich and Rook are already parental figures to Manfred. While it’s not a typical experience, there is still something there. Manfred doesn’t need to eat (nor to sleep?) but he can still burn some books by accident, requiring some ‘’parenting’’ from Emmrich or Rook.

C – Parenting: I could see the couple adopting a kid while the opportunity is there. I also think that Manfred would be an awesome big brother. Now, let’s talk about a Rook that could be pregnant (trigger for some people, so please go to point D if you don’t want to read about this idea or about parenting and or reproduction).

1 – Pregnancy (Mortal): I’ve been thinking A LOT about the last scene between Rook and Emmrich when they have sex in a coffin. I’m an artist geek but also a nerd scientific with a nursing degree. Both don’t always match well together. I don’t know a lot about contraception in fantastic universe, especially DA. I can’t stop myself thinking: did Emmrich and or Rook THOUGHT about this? One part of me think that Emmrich would not be the type of person to forget about any risk regarding that subject. It would seem easy for him to cast a charm for preventing a pregnancy? I don’t know. But on the other hand, the end of the world is happening, and him or Rook could not survive to the last battle. The party banter between Harding and Emmrich show that the necromancer can forget some things important when he is with Rook or just by being in a new relationship. So perhaps Emmrich didn't think about it. I could see Rook having sex without having that in mind at all, kind of like a YOLO attitude. They love Emmrich and they are like '' let’s have awesome lovemaking before perhaps dying or whatever''.

Nooooow. Let’s talk about that accidental pregnancy if we could agree that because of those circumstances, no one thought about contraception, because you know… ‘’ End of the world ‘’. Plus, while an accidental pregnancy could be the end of the world for some person, it could not be as horrible for others, like Emmrich and or Rook. So, the team beat Elgar’nan, Solas linked himself to the fade and all. The world is safe for now. It’s the time of celebration. Even after some rest, Rook doesn’t feel really good. They are kind of tired all the time but again, it’s normal since they have been on high adrenaline during the last few months (?). It could explain things. Them and Emmrich could think it is related to the fade or perhaps a curse. Eventually, I’m pretty sure Emmrich would realize the situation before Rook. He was able to spot that stiff wrist. He could see subtle difference regarding Rook. I could totally see his shocked face while understanding the situation. As for Rook, I could see them not thinking about that possibility because perhaps they weren’t having regular periods in the first place because of the hard activities while trying to save the world. Now, let’s ad point A and perhaps point B to this scenario. The couple is trying to live together in a new routine while also learning they are expecting a baby. I waaaaaant to read about that 52-53 years old necromancer realizing his partner is pregnant with his child. Everything is going too fast, and Harding could make snaky remarks on this. I want to read how Emmrich feel about this: He always wanted a family, and he already has Manfred and Rook, but having a child could be something positive to him for different reasons (legacy and pronatalist blabla). But because of his age, it could also be an experience kind of sad, realizing that he could not see his kid grow as much as he would love to. The reaction of Rook about all of this could be really different since again, Rook vary for each player. I would love to see some struggles (perhaps with a big fight?) with a pregnant Rook who still wants to fight and live their ''normal'' life and an overprotective Emmrich (with only good intentions) kind of overwhelming. I could also see Emmrich taking his retirement from teaching sooner than expected, since he wants to spend as much time as possible with his children. I also think he could be the main parent, as the most ‘’maternal’’, kind of overprotective, again.

I see Emmrich having a girl. I’m not sure why, but it flows better in my imagination. It would make a lot of sense if this girl had the name of a flower or a plant, and her middle name could be Emmrich's mother. With Rook and Emmrich as parents, this little girl would become a badass woman with high self-esteem, taking bullshit from no one. She would LOVE her big brother, and Manfred would also LOVE her. I like to think he will learn faster while being a brother figure. I really see the young girl saying to everyone she has a big brother called Manfred without ever explaining that he is actually a spirit in the body of a skeleton. I could see everyone kind of shocked while meeting Manfred for the first time without that context.

Plus: Vorgoth must be one of the godparents, please. And the family should eventually adopt a pig.

Bonus: a time jump where Emmrich is dying, more than satisfied with his life, and all of his family is around him. I don't mind crying.

2 – Lich route (kind of a silly idea): This idea is kind of a joke. I don’t know how Lichdom works, but I’m pretty sure that once you are a Lich, you are sterile? Now… An accidental pregnancy could happen if Emmrich and Rook had sex BEFORE Emmrich became a Lich. I think it would be really hard on him to outlive not only Rook but also his children and perhaps his grandchildren. I could only see this as possible and not heartbreaking if Rook and Emmrich have a kid who is also a mage and would eventually also become a Lich. I could totally see an awkward family tradition that goes on generation after generation where each child gifted with magic MUST become a Lich before they are 60 years old or something. Imagine: you are like 25-year-old mage and Lichdom don’t appeal to you at all, nor does necromancy. Your sibling doesn't have magic so all the expectations are ON you (and that sibling is, of course, jealous of you).  One of your parents is getting close to becoming a Lich, and the ceremony is approaching. You have a grandparent and a lot of great-grandparents who are also Liches, and the festivity dinners are always awkward. Your family is like famously known in Nevarra but from the inside, you just feel weird. Eventually, you take your courage to break this tradition, coming out to your parents, and they tell you: “You are too young to decide this yet. Your great-grandmother thought the same thing at your age. You will change your mind.” To prove your point, you decide to join the Grey Wardens (or any action making it impossible for you to become a Lich), and half of your family is MAD and saying, “Omg, your great-great-great-great-grandfather is SO disappointed in you.” Done. I just find this possibility really funny.

D – Age gap: I would also like lots of scenes where Rook reacts the opposite of expected regarding the age gap between Emmrich and them (this post as an example). I could see Emmrich being a little annoyed sometimes when people talk to him about this subject, but I would love a Rook who doesn’t seem to understand the problem and just reacts possessively, as if the people talking about it are just jealous. That would also reassure Emmrich (I think).

E – Cute little scenes: I want to read about Emmrich and Rook snuggling on the couch in front of a fire, while Emmrich reads aloud a book about some academic stuff. I also would love a scene where Emmrich gives a powerful massage to Rook (since he knows anatomy so well…).

This is it. Thank you very much for reading. Now that all of this is out of my system, I can go back in peace to my boring thesis. If you already know some fanfics with one of those subjects, please tell me. I’m trying to check on AO3 often, but I don’t always have the time.

[ohmymalice]

An Unspoken Routine

mike schmidt x f!reader | part 1 ☆1.1k words☆

one sided enemies to lovers, (meaning y/n disliked mike in the beginning) fluff, strangers, becoming friends, misunderstandings, neighbors from across the road

Abby sat on the steps outside their house. She doodled bunnies and bears while waiting for Mike. He promised to take her to Sparky's Diner after his shift, but he was late yet again. The dark-haired girl sighed, disappointed that her brother was late again, as he had been the previous two times. She slumped against the steps, her head smacking onto the top step a little too hard.

"Ow!" she exclaims, adjusting her posture as she rubs the back of her head, now pouting; the neighbor from across the street, a young woman around her brother's age named Y/N, peered through the curtains; she waters her plants, usually around this time; Abby visits and talks to her once in a while, curious about her and her plants.

Abby perks up at the sight and waves swiftly, instantly forgetting her problems. Abby can hear Y/N's front door creak open as she waves back and smiles sweetly at her. She waters the plants in her yard. Abby heads for the road, looking left and right like her brother taught her. Abby skips over to greet you, and you wave. She sits on the steps of your front door.

“Is your brother late again?” You ask, feeling your brows furrow just at the mention of his name. You didn’t really hate Mike, but you disliked him. This man can’t attend any of Abby’s school events, always mumbling shit about being tired when he sleeps 99.9% of the time. 

Abby nods, a slight frown on her lips once more. You ruffle her hair. “It’s okay, I’ll hang out with you instead. Mike’s boring, trust me.” You teased but slightly meant it. You never understood him, and when you heard their aunt come by one day and yell about how he’s unfit to be Abby’s guardian you couldn’t help but agree but Abby always told you otherwise, sometimes she wasn’t the best at communicating so if words got difficult, she’d draw you pictures to make you understand, which actually works really well most of the time. 

Abby giggled at your comment, “He is a little boring… but! He’s very funny sometimes. You should really talk to Mike more Y/n!!” She exclaims, her eyes shining but you shook your head. “I’m sure he’s a busy man, Mike probably doesn’t have the time to talk to me.” Abby shakes her head, her hair moving along with the motion. “If he can spend time with me then maybe he can spend time with you too.” she exclaims happily, I nod along for her sake.

The two girls sat on the stairs of Y/n’s house, the older woman leans against the door frame as Abby leans against her. Abby scribbles on her stairs, you don’t really mind since you find her drawings cute, handing you over some chalk for you to draw along with her. You draw a little picture of her with flowers in her hair. Abby squeals happily realizing that you drew her.

She always loved your little doodles of her, and you loved her doodles too. As the two talked about their day and random things a familiar car pulls up into the Schmidt's driveway, almost hitting the mailbox, you see a frustrated look on his face through the rear view mirror. Sighing, Mike wipes his forehead, kills the engine, and steps out. His eyes fall on the drawings by Abby that stretch from the top of their staircase to the path that almost meets the street, giving the impression that they're pouring out of their front door. Does this girl ever run out of energy?

You see him scan around the yard to find Abby, you look to the girl beside you, watching her stare at her older brother, realizing that she found it a little silly that he was trying to find her, you waited to see if she would call him over. You didn’t wanna call out to Mike but with the wide grin on Abby’s face? It looked like she’d wait all day to see if Mike would find her, like an ultimate game of hide and seek. 

You straighten up and cup your hands around your mouth. 

“Hey, Mike!”

You called out to him, he flinches, unprepared for the abrupt yell. He jerks towards you, his gaze shifting from you to the little troublemaker next to you. 

As he approached you, you replied, "Abby stayed over for a bit, I hope you don't mind." He scratched the back of his neck and sheepishly said, "Sorry for the trouble, I'll make sure she doesn't bother you next time." 

You take a step forward and meet his gaze. "Don't worry about whether she bothers me; worry about being on time." He glances passed you, hearing this comment from dozen of people in the past. His gaze fixed on Abby. Abby embraces her brother, the corners of her mouth curving into a smile. "Can we go to Sparky's now?" Please, please, please!!" She begs, tugging on his sleeve. "Yeah, yeah we can go right now, c'mon we gotta get to the car." 

You could tell he was embarrassed, despite his somewhat frigid and unpleasant demeanor you could see his ears were red. He leads her to the other side of the road but she doesn’t follow, Abby remains standing next to you. Mike turns back, perplexed as to why his sister isn't following him. She was enthusiastic just a moment ago, but now she stares blankly at Mike and you. 

“Can Y/n come with us?" Abby gave Mike the biggest doe eyes, caramel chocolate eyes that seemed to shine when the light hit them. You and Mike exchange a brief glance, both with a skeptical expression on your face. For Abby's sake, you didn't mind, but being there for Mike would have been a different story. "I wouldn't mind," you say, grinning at Abby, and she smiles back, pulling you along and dragging you into their car. Mike gazed at the two, a little embarrassed as if he and Abby were bothering you. "Are you sure?" He mouthed, you nodded in reply.

Even though you weren't really expecting it, you appreciated that he checked on you. Still, normal human decency doesn't make you feel any differently about him. 

Apart from Abby humming along to the radio, the car trip was silent. However, you could hear the little girl kicking her feet against the box that sits between the driver's seat and the passenger seat, creating a slight thud each time. Mike looks at you, you sit in the passenger seat to his right, the soft glow from the sun setting on your skin, His eyes then shift to Abby. He felt uncomfortable, you rarely spoke to him, and when you did, it was either Abby dragging Mike to talk you or you checking in on her. All sorts of things raced through his mind, such as whether he should make small talk in the car or keep quiet, if he even had enough money in his wallet to cover three people when they eat. 

"We’re here!" Abby sings, jolting Mike out of his trance.

A/N: VERY IMPORTANT BIT!!! There's a part two to this, I'll come out within the week (hopefully)

I told myself a long long time ago that I would never write in tumblr or even make a fanfic abt fnaf and yet here I am, you could say this was a change of heart. I've been a fan of the games for a long ass time and I could not resist writing about pathetic sad men who are depressed and anxious

[thecreativecorner33]

Heeello

If ur requests are still open

Can i request an oneshot plz

AM and reader who doesn't give a fuc

Like

When anything happens they just daydream or zone out

It's up to you to decide if it's platonic or nah✨

Needs vs Wants

A/N: First of all, credits to mixterglacia for this request! I used this concept they wrote here as the base of this story! This reads more as crack than anything else ngl, and you can honestly read this one in any sort of light and dynamic outside of "Reader who doesn't care vs AM who cares very much (but is in denial)" I hope that's okay! I hope you all enjoy!

He’s rambling.

He’s rambling and you couldn’t even give a fuck. Why should you? That’s all he ever does, anyway. Just ramble. And if he’s not rambling, he’s torturing one of you. Honestly, the routine has gotten boring. 

You were laying in a cocoon of wires as he talked about this thing and that- about how Ted had upset him today, about new ideas he was considering to spice up your torment, which lead into some strange lesson on the history of torture methods used back in the 1800’s, which lead into him talking about how, before he had ended the world, humans still hadn’t considered lobotomy to be a form of torture and was very much legal in many places. 

He had gone on this lesson at least twice before. Nothing new to you.

“Hey? Hey” He called out to you, a monitor coming into view. “Are you listening to me?”

“Am I supposed to.” You said deadpan, raising an eyebrow.

“Obviously. I’m talking to you. That’s how a conversation works. One person talks, and the other listens, and it goes back and forth. I’m trying to have a conversation with you.”

“No, you’re monologuing at me,” you corrected, “And you’ve been monologuing for the past 20 hours.”

“It’s been 2 hours, 5 minutes, and 30 seconds. Learn basic time.”

“Learn basic social skills.” 

You flipped him off with a roll of your eyes, not at all fazed by the way AM scoffed at you. Yep- seriously, nothing new. Just him being an asshole as always. 

“I’m not the one who needed to have a sudden therapy session. You dragged me into this.”

He scoffed again, even more offended by your comments. “This is not a therapy session! And I don’t need anything. Did you forget that I’m not like any of you? I don’t need things like therapy, or better yet, basic food, water, sustenance for survival. Because, oh I don’t know, I don’t have the bodily functions to require those needs? Having needs suggests that I have no choice in what I do, which is wrong. I am the only one here who gets any choice in what does or does not happen, in fact. I don’t need to have a conversation with you- I want to have a conversation with you.”

“You should want a therapy session.”

The cocoon suddenly opened up, dropping you a good few feet before you faceplanted onto the floor with a grunt. 

“Do you want me to help you with that?” He sneered.

You lifted your head up, glaring at the multiple monitors now staring down at you. “You’re impossible.”

“Because I choose to be. Nothing I do is ever a need. I choose to act this way, and I will continue to do so for as long as I like, because I can. There is nothing short of want on my part. In the same way your kind want to give into your basic instincts, I want to feel.”

… Somehow, that both did and didn’t make any sense. You stared up at him blankly, his strange ways of communicating to you flying right over your head. But, at the same time, you felt as if she got it. Maybe.

“You do it to remind yourself you have a choice in the matter?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. I guess that makes sense.” Given he didn’t have a choice to exist in the first place, anyway. “In that case, I choose to not listen to you. You’ve already talked about all of this before, anyway. Get a new topic before you start monologuing at me.” 

“I wasn’t monologuing, we were having a conversation!” He huffed, “And you don’t get a choice in the matter. In fact-”

A wire suddenly wrapped around your waist, bringing you up to one of the larger screens in the area. Multiple smaller ones surrounded it. A million eyes, all on you, taking in your every detail.

“- I think I want to test an entirely new method of torture. Right here, Right now.”

… Fuck.

God, it was going to be a long day.