#all of this with a headache. woohoo!

[einaudis]

.

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

I did something completely out of my comfort zone and I lived!

[dailydragoncookies]

todays dragon cookie is: roblox

[poisonf0rest]

𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐜*𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 2

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈

love and deepspace: zayne x fem!reader

tags: smut, teasing, oral, cunnilingus, road head, car sex woohoo, pwp

word count: 6.6K

synopsis: Between being in the midst of your medical residency and being an up-and-coming author, it’s safe to say your personal life has been placed on stand-still. That is, until your editor decided that your next novel needed explicit smut scenes. That is, until your mentor and boss ends up striking a deal for you to help with “inspiration” for said novel. That is, until you fuck Zayne four times and your life changes forever. - partially inspired by manga of the same name by Nae Awaji

original ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57209872/chapters/145519015

art credit: @/kaito_aii

This is the last time you have sex on a weekday.

When Zayne left your apartment last night, you tried to write while the aftereffects of everything he did to you- everything he watched you do- still lingered. But you were beyond distracted, unable to even sit still without being assaulted with vivid flashbacks, a mix of mortification and lust coursing anew. 

You shut your laptop and scream into your pillow. 

Only after feeling sufficiently lightheaded do you shut off the lights and try to sleep, but the damned thing avoids you like the plague, and you stare at the ceiling for an untimed eternity. Everything feels wrong. Your blanket feels too thick, your skin too tight, the entire room too warm, too empty.

You don’t get more than three hours of sleep that night.

But it should be common knowledge that hospitals rest for no one, and you jolt out of bed to the sound of your pager beeping, rushing in while the sky is still dark.

The ambulance pulls in at the same time you do and the paramedics are already yelling out the status to everyone at the bay: forty-three-year-old male, chest trauma, performing CPR. It’s a race, a rush and rhythm you know well. You’re scrubbed down and entering the operating room alongside two other surgeons. The patient is intubated and they give the countdown before cutting him open.

It took two and a half hours to perform the surgery and stop all the internal bleeding, and by the end of it, you were exhausted, both physically and mentally. 

But this was the most in control you’ve felt for a while. A sharp sort of stress that forced your hands into a trained precision and your mind into a rigorous sort of calm. It was almost as though you became a different person entirely, one you both admire and hate. 

She’s calm and collected, only speaking when needed in commands to the operating room. She demands respect. She is who your mother is proud of, who you were supposed to be.

You’ve only just washed your hands and finished debriefing when you feel that half of you begin to slip away once more. And as the stress leaves, your mind wanders back to last night. To Zayne.

Thoughts that haunt you for the rest of the morning.

Finally, the clock hits eight and the ER is busy with the morning crowd. You do what you can until the other residents clock in, leaving to finally eat breakfast and get some sort of caffeine before your headache gets any worse. 

Luckily, the vending machine has your favorite melonpan and green tea, and you get two of each. Sitting down, open your laptop and begin eating in the hallway outside the surgery bay, your manuscript staring right back at you, mocking.

Your eyes burn holes through the cursor blinking at the top of the page, and you try to will yourself to just type something, anything, but it doesn't work, and you end up slamming the computer shut with a sigh.

Unintentionally, your male lead has begun to resemble Zayne more and more- not physically, at least- but in his little mannerisms, his overly formal speech habit, and even his uncharacteristic love of sweets. Your lips quirk up at the memory.

But speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Zayne comes from the other end of the hallway, looking like he also might be coming out from a surgery. He’s only meters away when his eyes lock onto yours.

You straighten against the chair, a shiver of heat racing down your spine as his mere presence sends an onslaught of flashbacks that are nothing short of sinful.

Stop. What happened last night is part of a professional, mutually beneficial deal. Zayne is still your mentor— your boss too, in some contexts— and you refuse to have these thoughts about him in your place of work.

Smiling, your fingers still against the keyboard as you hope the whole thing doesn’t look as strained as it feels.

Zayne looks the opposite of amused. If anything, he appears pissed.

His gaze narrows on you, and for a second, you think you spot something else behind the cold indifference. But the look passes as quickly as it appeared, his face back to its usual stony expression, and you must have imagined it.

“Good morning, Dr. Zayne,” you say.

Zayne stalls, shoulders tensing for a moment before he nods and continues walking. He doesn’t spare you another glance as he passes, doesn’t say another word, the awkward tension so thick it almost makes you choke on your melonpan.

Your eyes trail after him until he rounds the corner.

Well, that went splendidly.

You try to type again, but it turns out your brain is a useless lump of flesh because no matter how many times you read over the paragraph, the words fail to register. You huff out an exasperated breath, slam the laptop shut, and drag yourself to your office to prepare for rounds.

Even so, you go through your morning routine with a strained smile, a newfound weight pulling against your chest, a sharp sort of pain between guilt and longing you’ve never felt before. 

—----

Zayne is going to lose his fucking mind. 

He is an adult, he reminds himself. A well-mannered, respectful, professional adult. 

So why can’t he stop imagining your face underneath him as you come undone? Why can’t he get the memory of every sound you made, the overly sweet way you said his name, the very cadence of your voice out of his head? 

And the way you said please. 

Zayne grinds his teeth hard enough that something clicks in the back of his jawbone, his usual flat expression twisted with a scowl that sends other doctors and residents scrambling out from his path. His clipboard groans under the pressure from his grip, and Zayne can’t make it to his private office fast enough before he slams the door shut and drags his palm down his face. 

He sees you every time he closes his eyes.

“Fuck.”

Zayne swore to himself that helping you would change nothing in the workplace, and yet clearly, only one of you was mature enough to hold that part of your deal up.

This must be a new level of depravity Zayne never assumed he would stoop to.

But it had been torture to only watch you last night. A beautiful, painful torture he would subject himself to again and again and again just for the chance to have you writhing against him like that once more. 

The way your doe eyes had practically begged for him to fuck you all on their own when he forced you to look up nearly made him come in his trousers. And thank god you were too far gone to notice how desperate he was, grinding insistently against your bedsheets while you came around his fingers. And now… 

And now Zayne was fucking hard again in his office of all places. 

It was a wonder he got anything done anymore.

Zayne hasn't had a lover in years and it's beginning to wear him thin. And yet, the idea of finding someone else to satiate his needs doesn’t appeal to him in the slightest. Not when his mind is so consumed with the thought of you, and the sounds you made, the way you looked at him, the way your eyes would roll to the back of your head every time he curled his fingers into that spot inside of you.

God, he should have just asked you out on a date first. 

Restraint had come easy to him. Zayne was practically raised on it, his very life dependent on his ability to restrain his Evol, the lives of others dependent on his patience and restraint in the operating room. 

But no, when it came to you, everything failed him. 

Maybe he had been a little harsh this morning. Zayne doesn’t know. He doesn't want to think about it.

Running a hand through his hair, Zayne imagines bumping into you again. Would you still be happy to see him, smiling as you did this morning, or would you ignore him just as he did you? 

“About this morning,” Zayne stops, restarts. “I’m sorry for avoiding conversation earlier today.” A groan, “No, I can’t begin like that. This morning I wasn’t myself, there was a patient who required percutaneous coronary intervention and the stress must have gotten to me.” 

He tries again, and again, gesturing to his empty office before dragging a palm down his face. “I must be going insane.”

Zayne has never felt more foolish in his life.

He doesn't even have the excuse of a lack of experience in this field. In his previous relationships, he was always the one to initiate dates and intimacy, and it was the same with any relation that had lasted longer than one night.

But you are different.

The thought of taking his time with you makes him weak. To finally have your legs wrapped around his waist, to finally hear his name on your lips, to finally have your body pressed flush against his and hear you beg for him once more.

He wants to do so much more for you, wants you to use him as you need, to take and take everything he has to give. Wants to surrender to your every whim and every outrageous idea you’ve ever had floating around in that unpredictable head of yours. Wants to taste you, and see if you taste as sweet as you sound when you beg.

Wants to know how your cunt feels and what face you would make when he finally, finally fucks you.

God, Zayne wants to ruin you.

He wants so badly it drives him mad.

Zayne can't avoid you, and he shouldn’t. There are still matters to discuss for your novel and a deal to hold up. He is a man of his word.

A date.

That could work. Just a way to get closer, as colleagues, as partners. 

You would have to spend time together outside the hospital, where the air is clear of any distractions and expectations and Zayne can get his head on straight. Even moreso, it should be something nice, something that will hopefully take your mind off your impending deadline. 

Right, that would be perfect. An opportunity to simply be providing you with the proper inspiration and guidance, as a good mentor should, and keep his end of the deal should you ask for another inspiration session.

Turning back in his chair, Zayne begins filtering through his email and paper files, until something slips from the growing stack. 

The annual charity gala.

As a resident yourself, you were likely already invited, so proposing the two of you go together shouldn’t be too ostentatious, right?

Zayne stares down at the gilded gold lettering.

No. It was definitely out of line in so many ways. But the only other option was to continue down this path, to continue fooling himself that he only agreed to be your fuck buddy out of courtesy and care, and not these wretched thoughts that plauge his every waking moment. 

It would mean he’d be completely at your mercy for seeing you next, whenever you needed him. Or his body, at least.

Zayne doesn’t have the willpower to last that long. Besides, this is more efficient.

So, Zayne opens the letter, pulls the invitation card from its envelope, and begins drafting an email to you in hopes of preserving a little bit of his dignity. 

He didn’t even have to wait an hour to get your response: you said yes. 

______

Zayne opens the car door for you, ever the gentleman. 

Sliding into the passenger seat, you take extra care not to snag the hem of your cocktail dress on your heels or the door. By the time you buckle your seat belt, and the car roars to life, dashboard glowing a soft orange.

"Ready?" Zayne asks, adjusting his cuff as he begins to reverse out of the parking spot.

It’s the first time Zayne has formally invited you to be his plus one, and the thought of being seen beside him like this- at such a formal gala, no less- is all at once thrilling and nauseating.

Zayne steals another glance at you, and where your hands lay clenched in your lap. "It’s just a hospital event, you may very well see other residents there."

A laugh. "I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or worse."

Even without the extra stress from attending this gala, your stomach has been in knots all day long-- your manuscript is due in less than a week. You’ve written a lot, and Zayne’s hands-on “experience” helped you get ample inspiration for most of the main scenes. Yet you can feel the deadline creeping up, the sense of impending doom looming over you.

Of course Zayne notices. "We'll try and have fun, it's just a couple of hours. I heard they also have billiard tables, if you’re interested?” A tap on the steering wheel, then he adds, a little quieter, “Your dress is nice. The color suits you.”

You smile, but your eyes don’t leave the road. Instead, you seem to zone out on the row of streetlights, shadows cast over your face as they pass by, one by one. 

“You clean up pretty well yourself, doctor.”

Zayne continues. “Tell me more about your novel’s progress, then. If you need any more assistance…” he trails off, and you feel a prickling heat creep up the back of your neck. Finally, you look away from the window, and Zayne relaxes against his seat. 

So you begin to tell him about the newest trope your editor wants you to include, a classic in enemies-to-lovers books: forced proximity. “The concept is great. Who doesn’t love it when the two characters who swear they hate each other accidentally get stuck together and turned on at the worst possible time?” 

You ramble, propping your arm against the car armrest as you turn to face Zayne. "So,” you say, ”I'm trying to think of ways they could find themselves in such a situation. Maybe they're cornered by guards or captured by a mutual enemy, or we combine the classic injury trope so they can’t move.” 

"That is one option," he says, eyes still on the road. A turn, and Zayne shifts gears as the car speeds ahead. 

“A classic my mind says no, but my body says yes dilemma.” You debate telling Zayne about the premise around aphrodisiacs and sex pollen, but you think that really might be pushing him too far. You are in a car, after all, and an accident is the last thing you want. 

Instead, you ask, "Have you read any enemy-to-lover books?"

He shrugs. "I've had some experience."

"I'm sure you have."

Zayne shoots you a sharp look. Your smile grows, slow and wicked. 

"And I've done a bit of research," he clarifies, voice flat just to prove a point.

"Right, research."

"Well, to best help you, I thought…” Zayne’s brows furrow as he merges lanes, letting the blinking of the indicator fill the silence before clearing his throat. “I thought reading a book or two in the same field would help me understand your own book better. I must say yours is far better written than some of these popular novels.” 

The mental image of Zayne sneaking a read at some filthy romantasy book has you giggling.

"And you’re sure that's the reason?”

"Of course," he says, though his face is slightly pink.

You feign suspicion, poking at Zayne’s arm. "What if this whole time, you’ve been hunting me down as a means to read my unreleased books?  Then the only reason you agreed to this arrangement is because you're secretly a stalker fan."

"Interesting theory,” a smirk, one you see pull at the corner of Zayne’s lips. “But not the only reason."

"Oh? What’s the other then?"

Zayne smiles, the dim light from the dashboard sharpening his features. Another turn, you spare a glance at the GPS only to see you’re nearly at the gala venue. But still, no answer came, not as Zayne seemed to refocus on the road, shifting gears as the light turns green. 

You groan, “You’re not even listening anymore.” 

“I am.” Zayne shoots you a look from the corner of his eye, one hand leaving the wheel to rest against your thigh. “There is, however, a difference between listening and answering.” 

But now it’s your turn to stop listening. You can’t, not when his thumb does that thing again, tracing mindless circles against your inner thigh while he looks back at the road. 

It does something, to have his hand there, warm and heavy. Something that has your thighs pressing together, heat creeping down your neck.

Zayne catches the motion. Of course, he does. And he squeezes, just a little.

And then a brilliantly wretched idea hits you.

"Do you have any suggestions?" You ask, trying to keep your tone innocent, even as you part your thighs just a little further. "I mean, you did research and all. Surely, you remember something useful about the plots. Or the sex scenes."

"The sex scenes," Zayne echoes, his voice tight.

"Well, yes. They're kind of important. They're why people buy the books." You lick your lips. "For example, surely one of those books you read for research had interesting forbidden tropes?"

"It's likely." His jaw ticks. "You'll have to be more specific.”

"Well..." you draw the word out, shifting in your seat. “You know where else would be a really inappropriate place for a character to get a boner?” Reaching over, you glide your hand up Zayne’s thigh, mirroring his placement on your own. “In a car, doctor.”

Zayne thanked every god for their mercy the moment he got to a red light, car jolting to a halt as he eyed you with a frown.

“Behave," he scolds. "This is beyond reckless."

The genuine frustration edged into Zayne’s voice makes you hesitate, and you move to sit up, retreating your hand from his thigh when it brushes past something unmistakably hard. 

You feel Zayne tense beneath you, the car jerking forward before speeding along as though nothing had happened. Oh, but your lips cracked into a vicious grin as you stretched your way fully over the center console, wriggling your ass in the air on the far side of the seat. 

Really, you should have realized that the stern, self-deprived Zayne gets off on scolding you as much as you did. 

You watch him closely, but despite his harsh words, he never moves to actually stop you. So you continue, scraping your nails up his trousers as your mouth follows, hot breath leaving damp spots against the expensive cotton as Zayne’s thigh jumps under your touch. 

God, the click of his belt coming undone elicited a nearly Pavlovian response at this point, the sound of metal on metal making something in your core flutter. You waste no time going for his zipper, palming at the bulge straining into your touch as it pushes out from between the metal all on its own.

Zayne laments all the trust you placed in him as a driver. Despite being only minutes from the venue, he swore he was gripping the steering wheel hard enough for it to snap. A car behind him honks and Zayne swears under his breath, thoughts clouding over as your hands finish sliding his zipper down, gently palming at his cock as he inhales sharply at the feeling of your hot breath over clothed skin.

And the moan Zayne lets out when you lick the head of his cock is enough to have you gushing. But you never take him any deeper, blocked by your position over the passenger seat, settling with unsatisfactory kitten licks up and down his length, leaving sloppy marks without ever speeding up. 

Zayne shudders, huffing in frustration and restraint as he unconsciously tries to buck himself into your mouth, failing due to the awkward side angle you placed yourself in. Instead, you splay your hands over his lower belly, untucking his shirt as your fingers rub against his v-line, as you begin to suck just barely over this throbbing head. 

“You shouldn’t– fuck." His jaw flexes, and his fingers are white-knuckled, the veins in his forearms standing out with the strain.

The shock of hearing Zayne curse was almost a physical blow. The word was spoken more like a prayer than a profanity, something desperate and violent caught in his throat, a warning and plea all at once. It made something hot coil deep in your gut.

It made you want to push him further.

You must have made some type of sound muffled over his cock because Zayne hisses, his hand coming down from the steering wheel to grab at your hair, fingers threading into your scalp and pulling, just enough to hurt. 

"You are absolutely insufferable." Zayne's voice breaks into a moan. "Stop teasing me."

You pull off of him with a wet pop, sitting up and wiping the drool from your chin. "But I’m hardly doing anything. Don’t tell me you’re getting so hard just from a few kisses."

"Reckless. Lack of foresight. Do I need to teach you how to behave like an adult?" Zayne's grip on the steering wheel tightens, his jaw clenching. You can practically feel the heat radiating off him.

"No," you lean forward and kiss the head, lips wrapping around it as you swirl your tongue. Zayne's foot presses down on the gas and the car jerks forward. "But maybe I could use some help learning my lesson."

You swallow him down, and his hips jump. Humming around him, Zayne’s cock twitches, and before you can stabilize yourself he’s pushing your head down further. You don’t think he realizes he’s doing it, not with the way his hips stutter upwards, thickly corded muscles of his thighs tensing as you nearly choke. 

Another broken moan fills the car alongside the wet sounds of your mouth, drool leaking from the corners of your lips as his cock bumps the back of your throat. You gag, and Zayne’s grip on your head finally loosens, the wheels spinning over loose gravel as you pull off just to breathe.

You can't see him, not with the angle, but the feeling of his eyes on you, burning into the side of your face, and the heavy throb of his cock against your tongue was enough to know just how close he is. 

You're so distracted, tears blurring your vision, that you don't notice the car has stopped, not until Zayne's other hand is reaching over to cup your jaw, forcing your mouth off his cock and forcing your head up to look at him.

The moment your eyes meet, he frowns, thumb rubbing across your bottom lip, cleaning your smeared lipstick and spit from your ministrations. "Look at you," he hums. "What a mess."

The nearby spots in the lot are empty, but you’ve arrived early, and you can see cars parking close enough to send your heart racing. 

You glance at the clock- seven forty-six- and you know despite how Zayne’s windows are tinted, it would take someone looking over from a meter or so away to see the two of you, to see the way Zayne's hands are fisted in your hair, to see you arched over the middle console, to see how hard he was and hear the slick, wet noises you made around his cock.

You nearly yelp as Zayne pushes you off his lap, messily tucking himself back into his trousers before climbing out the door. It shuts with a bang and you’re about to scramble up when you hear the passenger door open and are roughly hauled out of the car and slung over Zayne’s shoulder.

You don’t even have time to scream. The next thing you know, you're being tossed on your back into the back seat, barely having time to right yourself before Zayne follows you, door slamming shut. He's pulling at your dress, bunching the fabric up and around your waist before dragging you under him.

“Did I not satisfy you thoroughly enough last time?” Zayne scolds between breaths, teeth scraping over your pulse point before he bites down. “Or perhaps what I should have realized is that you’re simply a filthy little girl who gets off on being punished?”

The sound you let out is obscene, a whiny moan that has Zayne groaning as he pulls away, his mouth slick and shiny with spit. He grinds his cock against your stomach, his hand coming around your throat and forcing you to face him.

It’s almost effortless, the way he holds you against him, folding your thighs to your chest as he bends to avoid hitting the roof of his car. His cock is still rock hard and pressed against the back of your thighs, only the thin slip of your dress shielding you from his greedy eyes.

"Zayne- fuck, we're gonna be late." You choke out, a gasp following as his hips grind into yours.

“Answer the question.”

Another bite to the plush above your breast and you cry, fearing more for the possibility that he leaves a permanent mark more than anything else. As if hearing that, Zayne bites again. Harder. 

“Yes!” You thrash, trying to kick him off you but there’s little room in the back seats and the leather sticks to your sweat-slick back as Zayne works to pin your hips. “Yes, I’m sorry. I only— I wanted to see how long you’d last.”

A laugh, short and cruel. “How long I’d last?” 

Zayne grabs your wrists and holds them over your head. He leans close, so his lips brush yours when he speaks, and the words are low and soft. Dangerous.

"Well, then. Allow me to return the favor.” Zayne lifts your leg, pressing a kiss to your calf as your foot hits the window, one heel falling off with a thud. “If memory serves me right, isn’t this a trope too?” 

It’s almost effortless, the way he lifts your hips all the way up, your legs kicking helplessly over his shoulders as they’re forced up against the roof of the car. Shifting his weight around in the tight space, Zayne coaxes your calves to cross behind his neck, giving a small grunt as his face is pressed into your inner thighs, one arm straining against the leather of the car seats. 

“Where they’re stuck in a small space, right?” Zayne’s eyes never leave yours.  “Maybe a cave,” his tongue trails up the bare skin of your quivering thigh, “Under a desk,” licking his way up, “in a car?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer, not when the heat of his mouth presses directly onto your clothed clit, licking over the lace of your panties as you arch off the leather seats.

You’re already a dripping mess, writhing against the leather of the seats and the hard muscle of Zayne's shoulders, the sensation of his hot tongue pushing against your clit through the lace a painful sort of pleasure. Not enough. Not nearly enough.

Zayne pulls off and stares at the string of his spit and your arousal, warm and sticky, against the soaked patch of cotton between your legs connecting to his lips. Involuntarily, he bucks into the cold emptiness underneath you.

Fuck, he’s so hard he might come from this alone.

You hardly notice, not with the way every muscle and nerve quivers and begs for release, jaw falling slack as Zayne’s lips are quick to tease you again, this time pressing his tongue flat against the crotch of your panties and laving across the entire seam. The gorgeous arch of his nose presses up into your clit, and you moan, one hand flailing backways as it slides against the fogged-up window. 

"Zayne, fucking hell, just eat me out properly!" The curses tumble out of your mouth before you can think of the repercussions, but there was no way he could keep eating you out through the material, no matter how good it felt.

"So desperate." Zayne mumbles between open-mouthed kisses to your cunt, "So needy."

"Fuck- please," You draw one hand through his hair, pulling his face closer. "Please, please, please-"

"Poor thing. I suppose it would be against my oath to leave my patient in such pain." And he roughly presses his thumb up against the hood of your clit.

You sob, hands scrambling for something- anything- to hold on to as they slip down the window and dig into the leather of the seats. But Zayne was nothing if not observant from your last night together, and it doesn't take long for you to cum as soon as his mouth latches onto your poor neglected cunt through your panties. 

Still riding out each trembling wave of your orgasm, Zayne doesn’t fight the way your thighs clench around his head, kissing you through it until he readjusts your legs against his shoulders, forcing you higher onto your upper back. His fingers toy with the edge of the fabric, pleased with the way it sticks to your skin. 

All you can focus on is his breathing, heavy and fast, as he stares down at your cunt so intensely it makes you blush, helplessly exposed with your thighs pinned across his broad shoulders. Spread for him like every inch of the offering he intended on devouring you as. His goddess, his sacrificial lamb. Gods, he wants to know how every part of you tastes.

Zayne’s cock twitches again, and he shudders violently, a fat glob of precum falling onto the leather seats below, mixing with your slick that has already slid down his chin and your thighs.

If left alone, no doubt it’ll stain. 

“Look at the mess you made.” Zayne scolds, forcing your jaw to the side so you can see the puddle staining the seats. You whimper, and Zayne shakes his head.  “Well, we can’t just leave it. I suppose I’ll have to teach you to take responsibility for your actions.” 

Your hips jump. It's so hard to focus when he's talking like that, and the only coherent thought you can muster is that Zayne would be a fantastic writer if he ever decided to switch professions.

But he begins to shift you around, and your brows furrow as Zayne’s hand dips between the two of you, down to the leather, sweeping across the splattered mix of cum with two fingers before forcing your jaw towards him again. 

“Clean up your mess.” 

You think something is permanently fucked in your brain with the way your cunt flutters at that. 

Zayne’s unyielding face stares down at you, his dripping fingers pressed against your lips as you wrap around them and suck. It’s heady, the scent of sex overwhelming as Zayne practically fucks the digits into your mouth, sliding them against your tongue until you gag, thumb tracing loving circles against your bottom lip as though coaxing you to take them deeper. 

Only after gagging twice more does Zayne take mercy on you, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth. Instead, the pads of his fingers press against your tongue, and you take the hint, beginning to suck at them until the taste of you disappears. 

His fingers slip from your mouth, a trail of spit connecting his fingers and your mouth before Zayne breaks it. Your tongue flicks out to swipe at the excess drool, and he wipes your bottom lip. 

“Good girl, tasting just how desperate you are.” Every word of praise Zayne whispers goes straight to your cunt, nearly making you dizzy until he finally sits back. 

“And now…” he finally moves to push the ruined fabric to the side, “I get to taste, too.”

The feeling of his hot tongue directly on your slit nearly has you in tears, and your hand lurches into Zayne’s hair to force him closer. 

“No pulling. Behave,” Zayne warns. “This is still meant to be discipline for your earlier stunt on the road.”

Whimpering, you nod, parted lips swollen and shiny from the abuse Zayne put them under with his fingers. Satisfied, Zayne finally gives you what you need, kissing the swollen flesh of your clit directly before curling two fingers into your aching cunt. 

“Zayne-”

He’s addicted to the way you say his name. He’s addicted, and he’s going to come in his pants if you don’t stop. 

You begin begging again before Zayne covers your mouth with the palm of his hand, muffled cries still enough to drive him insane as he focuses on getting you past that high. 

Despite his threats, you can’t help but tug at Zayne’s hair, needing him against you as your hips began moving or their own accord, bucking and grinding senselessly against his face until you were practically riding his tongue. Chest heaving, you looked up to see him staring directly at you, silhouetted from the car window, green eyes nearly aglow with wretched desire.

Just like that, you’re coming, hard, thighs clenching down around Zayne’s head until he’s certain you’re trying to kill him. But gods, he never wants you to stop.

Addicted, Zayne presses open mouthed kisses to your cunt, swallowing everything you give him as his eyes roll back.

Desperate, you try to crawl away from him, but there’s nowhere to go. Your head hits the car door before Zayne drags you right back, forcing your hips up higher as your back is arched into the air, nearly perpendicular as you sob, legs kicking over his shoulders. 

But still, Zayne continues, and he knows. He feels it the moment your thighs lock up, the way your stomach goes tight and the way your senseless pleading still muffled by his palm reaches a higher pitch. And he takes advantage, not letting up as he curls his fingers until your cunt clenches down on his digits and tongue, squirting into his mouth.  

Almost in apology, Zayne finally withdraws his fingers as he opts to instead clean you directly with his tongue, nose accidentally overstimulating your swollen clit as you weakly fight to push his head away.

Zayne takes the hint this time, lowering your sore legs onto the seats below, finally set on a solid surface after being held in the air for so long. The slit of your dress is askew across your stomach instead of thigh, and Zayne gently tugs it back into place.

Leaning down, he picks up your forgotten heel before slipping it back into your foot, buckling it as you shiver every time his fingers brush your ankle. 

When Zayne finally faces you again, the lower half of his face is a complete mess, and you should be mortified never having squirted before let alone on your mentor’s face. 

But Zayne merely wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, smiling like the slick dripping down his chin was won in victory and not debauchery. “Well then, shall we?”

[lara-cairncross]

masterpost weewoo ✨✨

general art tag general ask tag

🧚hidden hollow au / rottmnt fairy au stuff:

au tag fanart/fanwriting tag "ask mikey" tag

original designs (this is kinda outdated now lmao)

brief intro comic

april -> leo size comparison

mini lore comic 1

info about mikey's talent

general idea for wings + shell anatomy

mini lore comic 2

info about leo's talent

mini lore comic 2.5??? (not important just funny to me personally)

shelldon exists. kinda.

thingy about their fangs (good color ref)

TURTLE TOTS

usagi intro!

raph shell ref

mini lore comic 3

ref for donnie's markings (kinda)

big lore comic 1

ao3 fanfics (from most recently updated to oldest)

link to my Ao3 page

are you lonely yet?

-> 6/? chapters, 11k words, english, Donnie- and- Mikey-centric.

notes: uhhhhh mikey gets hurt in a very damaging way. donnie blames himself big-time. they both think the other is mad at them. emotional angst woo hoo, but also kinda fluffy i think? also pretty heavy on disaster twins stuff

now it's red, now it's dead, now it's--

-> 1/2 chapters, 5k words, english, Mikey-centric.

notes: set in the Bad Future timeline! follows mikey's slow ascent into becoming something Other. lots of angst-- depression, disassociation, suicidal ideation, major character death, etc etc. probably my favorite fic that i've written? idk I love writing OP mikey!

the sun is a dying star

-> 3/? chapters, 10k words, english, mikey-centric but bounces between POVs

notes: started off as a one-shot but i got too ambitious for my own good. mikey is not having a good time. blah blah blah turtle-gets-kidnapped-by-scientists-or-something, but i wanted to focus more on like, psychological damage than physical damage. not sure when/if this one will get an update.

pizza bagels, communication, and other life-changing novelties

-> 1/3 chapters, 3.4k words, english, Miles- and- Mikey-centric.

notes: SHELLSHOCKED FIC WOOHOO !! THE ONE AND ONLY TIME I WILL WILLINGLY WRITE ROMANCE! uhhhh two teenagers pining for each other and doing dumb shit together and angsting about being children with the weight of the world on their shoulders. IT'S FLUFFY AND CUTE I PROMISE

it's golden hour somewhere

-> 1/1 chapters (completed), 7.4k words, english, Mikey- and- Karai-centric.

notes: one-shot. Karai POV, but focuses on turtle tot Mikey. basically the Hamato Sacrifice isn't the only curse that plagues the clan, and Mikey is the most recent Hamato to come under fire. predetermined fate and all that shit. fluff and angst. this one's kinda weird ngl I remember nothing about writing it or getting inspiration for it lmao

the icarus complex

-> 2/2 chapters (completed), 10k words, english, Raph-centric (and also kinda Leo-centric in second chapter).

notes: deals with Raph's PTSD following the Kraang invasion, and one possible coping mechanism he could fall back on. spoiler alert it's NOT a healthy one lmao. definitely one of the more interesting fics I've written in my opinion; I did a lot of research for this one to make it as realistic and respectful as I could. another personal fav :)

equivalent exchange (and other things that give Leo a headache)

-> 1/? chapters, 2.5k words, english, Future!Leo- and- Mikey-centric.

notes: another Bad Future timeline fic, this time with Present Mikey accidentally ending up with Future Leo. follows the two of them trying to figure out how to get Mikey back to his timeline. I still love this concept, but idk when I'll get around to updating it tho lmao

that's where the blood's supposed to be!

-> 2/2 chapters (completed), english, Mikey-centric.

notes: Mikey gets hit hard during a fight but brushes it off, and it comes back to bite him later. takes place after the show, but before the movie-- right when the whole Leo vs Raph kerfuffle is at its peak. questionable medical information but I did my best lmao. this one's kinda old and cringey atp but whatever

other stuff

fanart for 3 months au tag

fanart for golden future au tag

glass turtle keychains example

College Fund (aka my Ko-fi page :>)

[hannie-dul-set]

STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE [1].

SYNOPSIS. the saying “never meet your idols” exists for a reason. you just didn’t expect the reason to be because said idols would end up declaring that you’re their alleged lover from a past life (past lives, rather). now you have three big celebrities vying for your attention, and it’s not as dreamlike as you imagined it to be.

PAIRINGS. choi yeonjun, choi soobin, choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRES. reincarnation! au, celebrity! au (soloist! yeonjun, actor! soobin, rock band member! beomgyu), slight college! au, slight historical! au, rom-com, angst if you squint, reverse harem woohoo. WARNINGS. swearing, secondhand stress HHAHAHAH. WORD COUNT. 2.9k.

TAGLIST. @seokgyuu @spjhyn @bat-shark-repellant @writingmeraki @lotties-readings @jenodreamer @gyuspeach @lexawoah13 @dvalitaes @agustdiv1ne @enhacatalog @soobs-things @tocupid @wonsays @kgneptun @sarang-ae @peaceout97 @outrologist @prettypei @luv4cheol @captivq @kueey @matcha-binz @loveherrschxr @haechology @bitehee @laylasbunbunny

NOTE. and so it begins!! grabbed seventeen’s “second life” and gave it to beomgyu’s band, by the way. future chapters will be a lot longer bcs this one is sort of just an introduction. please lmk what u think so far!!

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 1 — the consequences of working with a choi.

One.

“I told you I won’t do any romance dramas!”

Choi Soobin isn’t usually one to throw tantrums. He’s gentleness itself, says the media. The loveliest, most humble and soft-spoken angel to have ever graced South Korea’s entertainment industry. Interviewees praise him for being so kind and warm. Award-winning actor Lee Minyuk decided to adopt him the day they first met while working on a drama just a year ago.

He’s so nice, so sweet, so lovely— a stark contrast to the roles he usually plays, but that doesn’t take away from the songs of praise that articles and Twitter posts usually string along with Choi Soobin’s name.

All of this is true of course. As long as you’re not contractually obligated to babysit his whiny, picky, six foot tall ass every single day.

“Soobin, why don’t you give it another—”

“This is ridiculous,” he huffs, crossed armed on the sofa with a tattered script sitting on the low coffee table before him. Manager Lee feels a headache kicking in. Why is this bastard acting up when the interns are in the office? Those two simply wanted to deliver the scripts for Soobin to pick from, but they are looking at his actor’s surprising behavior with wide eyes. Now, it’s going to be his job to make sure that they don’t run their mouths about the nation’s alleged first love actually being a spoiled brat.

“Soobin,” Manager Lee exhales for the nth time. This script is from Writer Kang. The Writer Kang! She wrote this script with you in mind as the lead. Can you at least maybe reconsider—”

“I’m not doing it.” Soobin won’t budge. He’s got a visibly troubled and offended look on his face and his manager wants to smack him upside in the head. How could he not understand that this is an opportunity of a lifetime? “Hyung, you know the reason why I even signed to this company in the first place. I’m not doing it. Absolutely not.”

He picks up the script like it’s a dirty rag— disgusted expression to match— only to reveal a page that suddenly prompts him to throw the entire thing across the room. The two interns flinch. Manager Lee feels his hair turning gray by the second.

“There’s a kissing sce— agh! Gosh! What will my soulmate think if she sees me kissing another woman?!”

“Soul...soulmate?” unfortunate intern number one voices out hesitantly.

“Is...Choi Soobin seeing someone right now?” asks number two, and Manager Lee wants to retire early. His actor is still ranting on and on about how there’s no way in hell he’s taking on this role. He doesn’t really wanna deal with that right now.

“No. He’s not seeing anybody. He’s never been in a relationship before.”

Manager Lee knows this because he’s been Soobin’s manager since the young star was still seventeen, when he was still as nice and well-behaved as the tabloids made him out to be. That same kid is now a grown adult and shuddering over a possible kissing scene in a screenplay. “Ahh. I can’t do this, I seriously can’t do this, hyung!” Fame does change people. Manager Lee wants seventeen year-old Soobin back.

“Then...then who is his soulmate…?”

It’s hard to imagine that an A-List star like Choi Soobin is suffering from unrequited love. “A woman from his past life,” answers Manager Lee. “Or so he says.” The interns look at him. Come—come again? their expressions seem to say. Manager Lee lets out an exasperated sigh. This one’s even harder to comprehend.

“Hyung,” Soobin finally calls out for him. Lee returns his attention to his artist, who’s now flipping through the other scripts on the table with an even more disgruntled expression. “Hyung, are these all the offers I have? They’re all romance! Don’t we have other options?!”

“The CEO wants you to expand your roles, Soobin,” Manager Lee flatly replies. “Your fans too. You can’t keep doing action-mystery-thrillers forever. It’s a waste of your visuals. They want to see you in lighter things too.” He walks over to pick up the first rejected script from the floor, dropping it in front of Soobin, who is currently a deflated balloon.

He’s changed. But sometimes it feels as though his artist hasn’t grown up ever since they first met.

“If you take Writer Kang’s drama, you’ll get even bigger, Soobin.”

“I’m not interested in fame,” Soobin mumbles, shoulders slacked and dejected. “I just want—”

“If you gain ever more fame, expand your reach, won’t that mean your soulmate can find you sooner as well?” Soobin takes the bait. He flinches upon hearing the word he’s been chasing after ever since, a glimpse of consideration flashing through his expression as he nips down his bottom lip. Manager Kim lands a hand on his shoulder. “Think about it, kid. You shouldn’t waste opportunities like this.”

Soobin lets out a breath. “I’ll...I’ll give it some thought.”

Dear god, finally. Manager Lee ushers out a sulky and troubled Soobin out into the hall with the script hugged against his chest and tells him to relax for the day. “Don’t overthink it. Just do what you want to do,” he says, after gaslighting him into positively considering the role. Still, Soobin needs this. He’s been stagnating since his last project, Study Group. He needs to switch up genres if he wants to improve.

“Wow,” intern number two exhales the moment Soobin leaves the premises. “You really are a veteran, sir. But does Choi Soobin’s soulmate really exist? Who is he looking for?”

Manager Lee shrugs and drops onto the sofa with a grunt. “Beats me. He doesn’t even know her name.”

*

Two.

“Yeonjun! Choi Yeonjun, look over here!”

“Choi Yeonjun, you look good today as well!”

“Please give a heart to the camera!”

“Fuck! Choi Yeonjun, you’re so fucking hot!”

That last one made Yeonjun’s mouth twitch into a smirk, and the screaming instantly became louder. Unintentional, but he relishes in the attention, anyway. He flips down his sunglasses to block the flashing lights from the cameras (causing another unintentional pandemonium), and his manager (Kim Noona, he likes to affectionately call when she’s about to yank out his hair roots for misbehaving) quickly ushers him into van before his rabid fans break through the bodyguards’ defenses and jump him.

“Good work today,” says Manager Kim as they start to drive away from the fansign venue. Yeonjun has his window rolled down and is blowing air kisses to the crowd. Ignorance is bliss, Manager Kim decides. “However, you don’t have time to run a catwalk on the way to the van tomorrow since you have another schedule immediately after the fansign. Try to strut for two minutes max tomorrow, please.”

“‘Kayyy,” Yeonjun hums, rolling the tinted windows back up and leaning back into the car seat with a satisfied groan. They’re on the way back to his apartment now. Time for him to start his routine. “Noona, do you have all the letters I got today?”

“Look to your left.” 

And there it is indeed— a stack of notes and envelopes and perfume-drenched messages of love and adoring affection. He flits through each one, skimming over every note and every letter like he’s looking for something. “Sleep early tonight,” Manager Kim tells him as he knits his brows, nearing the end of the stack. “You have a shoot in the morning, in case you forgot.” 

Yeonjun is back at the first letter he started with. Nothing, he lets out a sigh. Not one that he’s looking for.”

“Noona,” he calls out. “I’m going live right now.”

There’s a bump on the road.

“No, wait—”

[🔴 yawnzzn is live].

“Hehe. Yeonjunnie is here—!”

Manager Kim abruptly stops the car. Thank fucking god the road isn’t too crowded. She watches Yeonjun from the rearview mirror as he smiles at the outstretched camera and makes casual greetings and hello’s to the viewers, heart racing in fear. “Right now? I’m on the way back home. Can’t wait to get a nice shower once I get back.” Okay, she lets in a deep breath, starting the car once more. Yeonjun isn’t doing anything weird yet. Better to drop him off as soon as possible.

“Nooo, I haven’t had dinner yet, I’ll order once I get home. What do you guys recommend?”

He’s being normal. He’s acting fine. This is good.

“Ramen? That sounds good. Kimchi jjigae is also yummy.”

Maybe he just wanted to interact more with his fans, yes. He’s always been like that. Maybe he won’t say anything rash this time.

“Oh! The video with Mark Lee from NCT? Did you see us hugging? Hehe, Mark and I look good together?” They’re almost at his apartment building. They’re almost here. Once they arrive, Yeonjun will turn off the livestream and Manager Kim can finally fucking retire for the day. “That’s cute. But it’s too bad. I’m already interested in someone else.”

Screeeech!

The car stops. “Yeonjun.” But Yeonjun’s live stream is still ongoing. “Turn off the live.”

Yeonjun is smiling at his phone in painful ignorance. Manager Kim doesn’t miss the one second glance he spares at her. One second. One mere second before he starts inciting chaos even more. “Who? That’s a secretttt. I don’t want to tell you.”

Manager Kim’s phone starts buzzing. “Yeonjun, turn it off.” The buzzing won’t stop. Her personal phone starts going off as well

“Ah. Should I give you a hint?”

There’s an incoming call now.

“Choi Yeonjun, turn off the god damned—”

“Okay!” Yeonjun suddenly exclaims. He flashes a knowing smile to the camera, but his dearly stressed and overworked manager knows that it’s directed to her rather than the thousands of people witnessing the artist she’s in charge of stirring his third rumor of the week. Her phone won’t stop buzzing, it can be used as a fucking vibrator at this point. Choi Yeonjun is lucky he rakes in most of the agency’s profits— otherwise his contract would be terminated by now. “I have to go. My manager looks like she’s about to fire me, hehe. See you all tomorrow! Mwah!”

Just like that, the live stream ends, but Manager Kim’s phone is still incessantly ringing and beeping and giving the signal that Choi Yeonjun will once again go trending on Twitter— not in the way the company wants. Again. “Kim Noona?” Yeonjun calls out. “The light is green. The cars behind are honking at us.”

Manager Kim’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. “Yeonjun.” And they start moving again. “What are you gonna do once you get home?”

“Post a damage control photo. Got it.”

He knows. He knows yet he keeps pulling the same shit every week.

“Good...good— just,” his manager lets out a sigh, and they arrive at the front of his building. “No matter what I tell you, you won’t stop pulling these stunts, aren’t you?”

“Nope.” Yeonjun flashes her a grin, unbuckling his seatbelt, ready to slide the door open. “Thanks, noona! See you tomorrow!”

With that, Yeonjun leaves with a bounce in his step right after the mess he just made.

The problem is, Manager Kim can’t tell him to stop either after knowing exactly why he’s doing all of these scandal-bait, potentially career damaging things. It’s not something she can believe in, and it’s definitely not within the realm of reality. But after seeing the look on her artist’s eyes when he said— how many more headlines must he make until you can finally find your way back to him?

Well. All Manager Kim can do is work PR to their deaths for damage control.

*

Three.

“Why don’t we kick it off by listening to your latest single?”

Studio lights burn the set. Five seats are settled in place, four against one for an interview with one of the hottest K-Rock groups of the generation. Yeong-Il released a new single just earlier in the week, and it’s topped the charts ever since release. 

If I am given a second life I may live and breathe differently compared to now

Lee Heeseung looks happy to be here. So do Yang Jeongin and Lim Jimin. Choi Beomgyu, on the other hand, looks like he’d rather be anywhere else but here right now, complete with the faraway look on his face as he’s clearly not paying attention to the comments the host is making, instead drowning in melody and lyrics hummed by the speakers.

Among the streets we’ll walk past each other without knowing

“It’s quite different from our usual music, no?” Heeseung laughs.

I hope we remember each other

“Right!” Jeongin chimes in. “But I think we should hear from the man who produced and wrote this.”

Even in our next life Even at that time, I’ll go to you

“Choi Beomgyu!”

Even in our next life Even at that time, I’ll go to you

“Beomgyu, are you awake?”

Even if a second life That’s different from now comes to me The one thing I can say is That I’m going to be by your side

“Beomgyu!”

“Ah.” Beomgyu finally wakes up. He catches the concerned and nervous glances of his friends-slash-bandmates. Beomgyu takes the microphone from Jimin, tapping it once, before saying, “What do I do? It’s a little embarrassing to talk about this by myself.” Jeongin fails to hold back a snort at his lack of sincerity. Jimin sends him a nudge with his elbow. 

“Hey, this isn’t the first time you’ve written a song. Quit acting coy,” Heeseung manages to salvage the conversation, invisible sweat dripping down the side of his face. Beomgyu finally decides to stop stalling and answers the question.

“Well, anyhow, I think you can tell from the lyrics. Second Life is about a love that extends beyond lifetimes— promising that even after we’ve lived, died, and reborn as different people, there is still no one I’d love but you.” There’s some coughs from his bandmates. Beomgyu presses his lips into a smile. “That’s it.” And passes the microphone back to whoever reaches out for it first.

This kind of behavior from Yeong-il’s guitarist and vocalist isn’t new. 

The problem is, even though his team and fans are used to it, not everyone is, so the show’s host is taken aback by Beomgyu’s complete lack of care, unaffected and impenetrable. He stifles out a cough, flits through his cue cards. “O—oh, how romantic!” he exclaims. “I’ve noticed that a lot of your other songs that Choi Beomgyu-ssi has written seem to have a similar theme. Isn’t that right?”

“Yeah, it’s not really a secret, and it’s honestly pretty obvious,” Beomgyu answers, earning another nudge from Jimin. 

“He doesn’t seem like it, but Beomgyu is the biggest romanticist out of all of us,” Heeseung saves the day once more. Choi Beomgyu has been once dubbed as the biggest hurdle in every interviewer’s career. Nobody knows if he’s doing it on purpose, or if he really is just like that.

“We—well, can we ask what your inspiration is for writing this kind of music?”

It’s not a new question. It’s a question asked interview after interview to Choi Beomgyu whenever they release one of his songs riddled with his signatures of reincarnation, second lives, and first loves. But he’s always avoided answering them, sometimes going as far as outright telling the host that he doesn’t want to answer.

Though his bandmates are indeed both dreading and looking forward to the day Beomgyu would finally make a public answer to that million dollar question—

“Myself.”

—they certainly did not expect him to answer with the truth.

“What?”

“The tracks were inspired by myself,” he says, face flat, free from any sign of humor or jest. “I’m still waiting for my first love from my first life. There must be a reason why I still remember her and the life we shared. Doesn’t that mean we’re both destined to meet again?”

Silence washes over. Everyone on set is looking at Beomgyu, waiting for him to laugh or smile or crack a joke or some shit just to give an indication that he wasn’t at all serious with that statement. Their managers are frozen. They’re all looking at Heeseung to finally and neatly wrap things up before the mood gets worse.

Heeseung gets the signal. He quickly snatches the microphone from his friend and starts making bullshit up and praying to god that this part gets edited out. “Aha—ahaha, Beomgyu really likes to remain in character! That’s how much he takes his music seriously! Anyway—”

The rest of the interview turns up normally. No unexpected backstory reveals or trauma-dumps. No mentions of possible supernatural phenomena whatsoever and that’s mostly because Beomgyu decided to keep quiet for the rest of it.

He’s seriously a ticking time bomb, all but him share the same thought upon exiting the studio, until Heeseung finally confronts him about it when they reach the van.

“Dude, what the hell was that?”

“I know, I know. You don’t have to nag me,” Beomgyu groans. “We can ask them not to air that part, anyway. I’m just getting impatient.”

Impatience.

That’s a mutual feeling shared by all three of them. 

Twenty years. That’s how long they’ve been waiting. Centuries, if you count the period in between their previous lives and now. But when the person they’ve been waiting for finally shows up— patience will be a virtue that they’ll need to learn to strengthen. Patience. They’ll need to be a hell of a lot more patient if they want to take back what they lost.

STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[eli0004]

Any Levi headcanons you’d like to share with the audience 🥹

Whew😮‍💨 Anon, as a dedicated Levi stan of multiple years, you know i do!

Pairing: Levi x GN! Reader

Synopsis: Random relationship hcs!!! Woohoo!

Warnings: Levi struggling with emotions, gossiping, mentions of substance use, very slight nsfw implication

Levi isn’t really someone who cares too much about what music he listens to. He’ll listen to whatever you put on, even if it’s like…loud angry metal, he’ll sit there like 😬 Yes this is great i love it and i’m absolutely not horribly overstimulated right now. He just likes to see you happy.

This man is made of 100% husband material. He thrives living the quiet married life, and feeling appreciated and loved for doing the simplest, most menial household chores.

For the most part, if you were to ask him if he wants children i think he would say no, but then he watches you interact with children and it patches up this broken place inside of him, and suddenly he’s dreaming of little feet pattering around the house.

If he accidentally hurts your feelings with some dumb joke he made, he will feel intensely guilty. It will eat him alive, he can’t believe himself. But he also has no idea how to say that, so he’ll just make you tea and torture himself over it.

Even if you’re years into your relationship with him and living together, he still gets butterflies when he sees you again after a long day. You’re his solitude, his safe place, his home isn’t a home without you there in it.

He likes to listen to you gossip with your friends. Every once in a while he’ll pipe in and share his thoughts on something, and you’re like…? Since when did you start paying attention to this?

He has a high tolerance for alcohol, but half an edible has him absolutely faded. It’s actually ridiculous. And high Levi is so soft and sleepy, and he seems so genuinely relaxed, it’s a blessing to be able to witness him in that state.

Levi is hardly interested in status symbols, and values practicality over luxury. In a modern AU he probably drives a slightly beat up older classic car, but has no idea it’s a classic, so when car people compliment it he’s like ??? Tf

He’s a slightly picky eater, but if you make dinner one night and it doesn’t look appetizing to him, he’ll gather every ounce of courage in his body to take a bite and try it for you, since you went out of your way to make him something.

He has a keen sense of smell, and he loves fresh, fragrant aromas. He definitely stops in the candle aisle in the grocery store to smell all of them, and then gives himself a massive headache.

When you get out of the shower and smell all nice and clean, that shit gets him so bricked up.

I mentioned this before in another post, but if you ask him to pick something up from the store and it’s on a shelf he can’t reach, he will literally leave that store and go to a different one. He’s not going to ask the 16 year old cashier girl to help him reach it, and he’s definitely not climbing the shelves like a mad man. You’ll just have to wait a while longer.

Literally blushes from ear to ear when you call him pretty, or cute. If he gets compliments on his physical appearance, it’s usually said that he’s “sexy” or “handsome” which are still great things to hear, but it’s about the loving adoration in your eyes and the gentleness with which you touch his face. The genuine honesty behind your compliments, and the way it feels like you see something in him that nobody else does.

[goddessofroyalty]

Fandom: One Piece

Going through my One Piece scribbles to do a final clean up before FF7 takes over my life from probably tonight and found this one that was me playing around with trying to match the more silly tone One Piece can get.

Law is used entirely as a convenient outsider POV.

Pairing: Zoro/Sanji

Tags: omegaverse, mpreg, accidental pregnancy

-----------

“Are you kidding me!? Again!?”

Law makes a point of trying to ignore the Strawhats’ antics as he travels with them. Strawhat’s crew is as insane as their captain is and often loudly bicker amongst themselves seemingly just to give Law a headache.

The shrillness of Nami’s voice and way Blackleg practically prostrates himself at her side in pathetic submission has him tuning in.

“What happened?” The Strawhat’s sniper asks as the rest of the crew’s attention is drawn onto the situation as well.

“Sanji’s pregnant. Again,” Nami informs them as Blackleg lets out a pathetic whimper that would perhaps be more worrisome if it wasn’t the exact same candor as the one he gave when the strawberries he was using the previous night for desert weren’t large enough for him to carve into perfect flowers for the girl’s. Law doesn’t try and understand why a man who would happily kick anyone’s head in if they suggested he may be less for being an omega immediately breaks out the keens and whimpers associated with his designation at the first sign of any even slight offence to the women on his ship.

The navigator’s offence is deserved from Law’s perspective. While they had hidden them well the fact of him travelling on the ship with them had necessitated he be introduced to the two other children that had resulted from the unique relationship between swordsman and cook of the Strawhat crew.

“Woohoo! New crew member!” Strawhat himself crows, completely missing the gravity of travelling with a pregnant omega aboard.

Although considering they had already successfully done it at least once before Law supposes the confidence is somewhat justified.

Strawhat rattles off his list of demands following the exciting news. A feast the first, most detailed, and apparently most important, among them.

Not that much attention is being paid to him. Nami still standing with her hands on her hips looking at Blackleg expectantly.

“It’s not my fault my m- the only option I’m stuck with for my heats is a mossy brute!” Blackleg justifies. And Law is sure they all caught the slip in his words. And all know exactly what he was about to say.

Despite the two – soon to be three – children they share and the fact the world knows them as the Monster Mates of the Strawhat pirates, both Blackleg and Zoro’s necks stay bare of a mating bite.

“I didn’t do anything you didn’t ask for,” Zoro says from where he had been napping on the ship. He had had their youngest asleep with him but the boy had woken up with Strawhat’s excitement, running off to join the noise.

Blackleg glares at his not-mate and Zoro moves to quickly block the foot aimed at his gut for it.

“It’s your stupid knot that keeps breaking the condoms,” Sanji says, driving his heel into the sword Zoro has blocking him.

“It’s your fucked up fertility that keeps getting pregnant so easily,” Zoro snaps back, pushing against the food driving down onto him.

“Enough,” Nami says, before they can go into any details of how they managed to conceive three children together. Her hand coming up to massage her temple.

[m30wk1ttycat]

𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞

summary: it seems impossible to choose which one of the two siblings you like more. and somehow, it gets even harder when you did something not so smart. pairings: newt x reader, sonya x reader (both r platonic) warning, this is short. sort of.

newt got the cure. you escaped, got to the safe haven alive. woohoo!! you know you should be happy, but it's kind of hard. your feelings were all over the place. almost every night, when you'd hang out with sonya, her head in your lap, you couldn't help but feel a little weird. it was always cold outside in the night, but sonya managed to make you feel - even if just a tiny bit - warm. perhaps it was the way she'd smile at you. her smile barely visible in the dark still managed to confuse you in the best way possible. it was the same with newt. one second he's playing with your hair, complimenting you, looking at the sunset, and you suddenly feel lightheaded. "y/n, are you okay? your cheeks are all red!" they'd tell you, concerned. their concern was always adorable to you. only one day, it wasn't so fun seeing them worried. you got sick after you and gally decided it'd be a fun idea to do the ice bucket challenge. it was only a harmless dare, so why were they acting like you were on your death bed? on a royal death bed, apparently. newt would constantly check up on you, and scold you - though those times when he'd call you an idiot, he never truly meant it. he was just frustrated that you'd do such a thing, even though you knew that you got ill easily. but he'd bring you snacks, and whatever you asked him to. he was basically acting like you were suffering from a terminal illness, and he was just trying to make your last wishes come true. sonya? sonya felt bad for you - so did newt, but they both showed it differently. sure, you may have had a throbbing headache, but you couldn't take her seriously - not when she was pouting when you told her you're okay after the poor girl asked you if your head hurts. and at one point, when newt came to check up on you, a bowl of soup in one hand, painkillers in the other, you two ended up falling asleep. newt was on the chair, head leaned back, his two fingers on your wrist to feel your pulse (the artful dodger reference <33). he was worried, it showed. it really did. but perhaps he was being a bit dramatic. but it was sweet of him nonetheless. sonya in the doorway looked confused seeing her older brother hold your wrist after he told you that he's never allowing you to talk to gally if this is how you end up - unwell, exhausted, suffering a horrible headache and a concerning temperature. after giggling once or twice, she stepped into the room, and sat down on the floor, watching over the both of you. oh, how you loved them both.

[animatorweirdo]

How to kidnap yourself a dark lord husband? Part 2

Part 1

(Second part for the crack fic. I hope you enjoy this one)

Warnings: Reader being a headache to her family, Sauron just dealing with her antics, Melkor getting robbed of his lieutenant and Manwe not getting paid enough to deal with this.

----------------------------------

Nerdanel: *Sobbing* I can't believe our daughter would disappear again. What has Melkor's servant done to her mind to make her act like this?

Feanor: *Visibly angry* This is why the valars can't be trusted. They allowed something like this to occur to my only daughter. 

You: *Kicks the door open* Naneth! Atar! I'm home, and I have news for you! 

Nerdanel: *Startled* (Name)! Where have you been? And who is that beneath your arm?

You: *Carrying Sauron beneath your arm like a potato sack* My new husband! 

Your whole family: YOUR WHAT?!!!

Sauron: *Waving at them awkwardly* Uhm... hey. 

***

Feanor: (Name)! You can't just decide to marry someone you have only known for like a month! And he's one of the Ainur!

You: Don't worry. Mairon's a rogue, so he doesn't belong with the valar. 

Feanor: That's not what I meant! Why would you want to marry him anyway?!

You: One, he's less loud than all of you. Two, he's hot, and three, he gave me a dog— something you have refused to give me for centuries! 

Feanor: Seriously? 

You: *Holding Carna* Dead seriously!

Carna: Woof!

Feanor: (Name)!

Your brothers: *Glaring at Sauron* Hurt her, and you're dead. 

Sauron: *Deadpan* I'm literally the one that got kidnapped. 

***

Melkor: Well, well, well... now this is something I didn't expect to happen. 

Sauron: Hello, master. 

Melkor: So, what's your plan with Feanor's daughter? Did you seduce her? Did you brainwash her? Is your plan to have power over Feanor's house by marriage? 

Sauron: No. She just decided we should be married and forced me to come here. By the way, I've been meaning to talk to you about something. 

Melkor: Huh?

Sauron: *Slides in a resignation letter* 

Melkor: You want to quit? Why! Is it because you suddenly got a wife now?

Sauron: Master... it's literally been like 300 years since we even spoke. Everyone has literally gone in their own ways. 

Melkor: What? 

Sauron: Yeah. There's no one at Angband. We assumed you would never come back, so we didn't see a point to continue.

Melkor: Seriously? 

Sauron: No hard feelings. I might come back if you come up with something, but for now, I have different things to deal with. *Leaves*

You: *Grinning at Melkor* Haha! Fuck you, your lieutenant is mine now!

Melkor: *Silence*

Melkor: Oh dear– I got robbed of my lieutenant before I could rob her father’s silmarils. 

***

Your family: *Arguing with you in front of the valars*

You: *Arguing back* 

Manwe: *Having an headache*

Manwe: Alright! Settle down. I have a proposition that might help both of you in this matter! 

You & your family: *Look at him silently*

Manwe: (Name) Since your family wants you to stay, but you do not want to break your relationship with Sauron. How about this? During winter years, you shall spend your time with Sauron in Middle Earth, and during spring years, you will spend your time with your family in Valinor. 

You: *Thinks about it* Yeah, sounds good to me. 

Your family: Wait, it's the start of autumn. 

You: Woohoo! Which means half a year without you!

You: *Grap Sauron and began leaving* Bye! I see you in spring! 

Your family: *Sobs* (Name)!

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Could you do headcanons for how the sv + sve bachelorettes get when they're a bit tipsy

I actually wrote earlier (like a year ago) on a similar ask, only it was almost all vanilla residents without Expanded mod. But I don't mind repeating it, it'll just be a little different! Thanks for the question, dear anon 😊❤️

_________________________________________

Given that Penny hates all alcohol and has sworn never to drink anything strong, she became intoxicated by accident, drinking a cocktail that the young teacher mistook for fruit juice. And she doesn't like this state. She feels tired, sleepy, dizzy... Why is she staggering around? How can her mother drink beer and like this condition? Penny wants to go home, to sleep and finally get rid of the feeling of intoxication. Oh, she doesn't enjoy drinking, that's for sure.

The party for Abigail was just beginning, woohoo! After a couple of delicious cocktails based on hard liquor, the purple-haired girl felt a huge rush of energy and euphoria. She was ready to drag Sebastian to the dance floor, challenge Sam to a duel in an arcade machine, or something else crazy. But also when drinking alcohol, Abby could be a little aggressive. It even got to the point where she threatened a rude tourist with a sword (now there's a "No swords" sign in the Saloon. Sorry, Farmer).

Haley doesn't often go to the Saloon, preferring to drink liqueurs and martinis at home. In principle, two small glasses of sweet, strong alcohol are enough for a girl to tell herself to stop. In light intoxication, she becomes chatty, cheerful and flirtatious, sometimes a little capricious. But if she miscalculates and drinks too much, she gets sad and tearful (then nauseous and headachey. Ugh, hangovers suck).

Maru was very curious about what the strawberry wine she had been given for her birthday tasted like... Just a quarter of the bottle, and the young inventor left the rest for later, as she treats alcohol responsibly. With the alcohol in her blood, Maru became very talkative: a whole stream of words about her future inventions seemed to know no end. And she would talk even if no one was listening and until intoxication made her sleepy. So the most common condition is talkativeness and sleepiness.

Leah usually prefers to have a couple of glasses of wine at home, alone, after a finished sculpture or painting. Or in the company of a dinner of fresh salad or delicate goat cheese at the Saloon. Alcohol always makes her feel relaxed, and the ginger haired artist will gladly surrender to the hands of calm and serenity during a well-deserved break. Leah is pretty well tempered in terms of drinking, but always drinks in moderation as she's not too fond of losing her motor coordination.

A couple of speciality cocktails, the recipes of which were invented by Emily herself - and the blue haired girl will turn from an energetic and joyful person into a more energetic and joyful person. She can't sit still, she needs to move, she needs to have fun and she needs others to have fun too. No aggression, just a lot of movement. Most of the time Emily goes straight to the direction of the dance floor. Tolerates strong alcohol quite well, but she rarely drinks and doesn't allow herself to do so at work in the Saloon.

Sophia owns a Bluemoon vineyard, works there alone, and naturally also tastes the wine she makes before bottling it. Just a little bit, but enough to make her feel quite normal from a couple of three strong cocktails in the Saloon with friends. Sophia can get a little louder and more chatty, sometimes she might giggle loudly at some funny joke or wave her arms around, but overall alcohol doesn't change her too much.

As with Penny, Claire has no tolerance for alcohol and would rather have a cup of tea than wine or whiskey. And so it came to pass that Claire also accidentally took a sip of some strong drink, mistaking it for something else, and what she feared - a headache - began. A severe, unbearable headache from even the smallest amount of alcohol in the body. So when she drank alcohol, Claire's face would be creased with a dull ache, and she would be weak, sad, and slightly irritable.

No strong wine in the Ferngill Republic can make Olivia lose her ability to adequately assess her state of mind or darken her eloquence. She doesn't drink several bottles of dry red wine in one sitting, of course not, but the former Joja accountant has been visiting many wineries since she was 20 years old to try out different types of wine. Some people might think that Olivia gets a little impatient (even flirtatious for some) after the fourth glass, but no wine will make her say or do anything indecent.

[esotheria-sims]

Winona surveyed the room in front of her with a big grin. She was told the inn had a dedicated 'music room' with an in-house bard, but it was really looking more like a medieval nightclub. Not that she complained! She was itching to hit the dancefloor. Fortunately, it didn't take much convincing for Marcus to do the same.

Not long after, Adam entered the room, complete with lord Pollack in tow. Wynn noticed him come in but made no attempt to stop what she was doing. Dad had promised he'd let them have fun so long as it was safe and appropriate for their age, and her dancing with a friend broke none of those rules. She mentally dared him to try and challenge her, though her gut told her he wouldn't. Judging by the glass of wine in his hand, he had better things to do anyway.

And she was right. Adam had spotted his daughter dancing with the headache-inducing boy, but he's had a few glasses of wine already and Maxwell was telling him of some top-secret VIP room with the most devilish grin, so clearly that took priority. He made a mental note to corner the boy later as he followed Maxwell down a flight of rickety stairs. What he saw at their bottom made him forget all about the boy or his plans.

A VIP room? More like a WooHoo dungeon!

Maxwell grinned, glad that his surprise had worked. He pointed at the hexagonal table at the far end of the room.

Maxwell: "How about a little poker match? The loser has to give up his garments to the winner."

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

The Right Place in Time

Summary: What if Steve was in the woods with Chrissy and Eddie getting weed for his headaches?

@disrespectedgoatman @estrellami-1 @darkrose517 @panicatthediaz @mandriice

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Steve watched with Chrissy as Eddie picked the lock on the door of the Byers' old house. Eddie unlocked it with a flourish and a grin, bowing before them. Carrying pillows, blankets, curtains, and lanterns, they walked past Eddie. Once inside, they got to work, putting up the thick, dark curtains they took from Steve’s house. The three of them settled into the kitchen, turning on a lantern.

"What's with the collander?" Eddie asked. "Wayne isn't here with food yet."

"You'll see," Steve grinned. "Lay down."

Steve nodded towards the pillows and blankets they set up against the cabinets. He pulled out the smallest flashlight they had, turned it on, and set it upside down so the light was flaring up. He placed the collander on the light and turned off the lantern. He laid down next to Chrissy, with Eddie on her other side. Tiny lights twinkled on the ceiling like stars.

"Wow!" Eddie and Chrissy exclaimed.

"How did you know how to do this?" Eddie asked.

"My mom used to do this with me when I was little," Steve said.

"This is pretty damn romantic," Chrissy said.

"Yeah, are you planning on saving anything for our first date?" Eddie teased.

"Just you wait, princess," Steve said.

"You know, it's too bad that we don't have enough time to fool around," Chrissy said as she slid her fingers under Steve’s shirt.

"Oh, look at that, Chrissy's going for the boob grab," Eddie giggled.

"Go for it yourself, Munson," Chrissy said.

"Woohoo!"

Chrissy was wearing one of Steve’s button ups due to the fact that she had spilled food down the front of hers earlier in the day. Eddie quickly wormed his head under the shirt. Steve couldn't see what he was doing, but he guessed his hair must he tickling her. Suddenly, Eddie stilled and giggled.

"Honk!" Eddie exclaimed and Chrissy struggled not to laugh loudly.

"Eddie, you didn't," Steve laughed.

Suddenly, Eddie made a loud raspberry sound, and Chrissy couldn't help but burst into a fit of loud giggles.

"Chrissy, you're going to give away our position," Eddie scolded mockingly. "Steve. . . "

"On it," Steve replied.

Steve kissed her, smiling as she giggled against his mouth. They didn't fool around for long as Eddie had fallen asleep under Chrissy's shirt, and Chrissy had fallen asleep not long after. Steve stayed awake, making sure Chrissy's tape was still going and pressed firmly to her ears. He did the same with his. He made sure that the volume wasn't too loud. Steve smiled at Eddie and Chrissy sleeping beside them. His mom would love Chrissy, and Eddie would be an adjustment for the both of them, but they would eventually love him too. It had been an adjustment when he had come out to them, but they learned to accept him, and Steve had learned to be patient with them. It had been worth it when they finally did get comfortable with it. They weren't perfect parents, no one is, but they always learned from their mistakes, and the more time he spent with them, the better it got. The one thing he knew, without a doubt, was that they would accept anything that made him happy.

All you people keep yourself alive

Take all your time and money, honey

You will survive

Keep you satisfied

Steve sang softly as he stared at the fake stars that he created. As the song ended, he heard the secret knock they created, and he gently nudged Eddie awake. He grumpily pulled himself out of Chrissy's shirt, bleary-eyed with his hair in disarray. Chrissy blinked owlishly at him, her hair also messy, and her bottom lip was jutting out in a pout. Steve beamed at them.

"God, you guys are so cute when you wake up," he said fondly.

"Fuck you," Eddie said scowling at him.

"Fuck me," Chrissy said with a grin as she stretched, fixing her shirt.

She got up and went to answer the door. Steve shared a look with Eddie, who grinned at him. Eddie stretched before crawling over to Steve and curling up against his leg, nudging his head into his stomach. Steve laughed and wrapped his arm around his back, scratching it with his fingernails. Eddie sighed and closed his eyes as he rested his head on Steve’s other arm, practically lying in his lap. Nancy, Vickie, Robin, Max, Lucas, Gareth, and Dustin all spilled into the kitchen with Chrissy trailing behind them.

"Cool! You did the light trick," Dustin grinned. "By the way, Jeff and Frank went with Wayne to help him get food."

"Good, I'm glad someone did," Eddie yawned.

Nancy placed a stereo on the counter and turned it to the local news station, turning it down on low before joining everyone on the floor of the kitchen. She carefully placed a bag inside of one of the cabinets.

"What's that?" Eddie asked

"My guns," Nancy said. "We stopped by my house."

"Your guns? Plural?!" Eddie asked in surprise.

"A Smith and Wesson as well as a Makarov that I stole from the Russians," Nancy said.

"Ah, the Smith and Wesson that you almost took my head off with," Steve said grinning.

"You almost deserved it," Nancy teased.

"Wait. You stole a gun from the Russians?!" Eddie exclaimed. "Okay, not jealous at all. I understand completely why you were in love with her. I might be a little bit in love with her."

"Seconded it," Chrissy grinned.

"Do we have enough room in our relationship for another person?" Eddie asked.

"I could definitely make room for Nancy Wheeler," Chrissy grinned.

"Well, I am single now," Nancy said with a teasing smile, and Eddie hollered, clapping his hands. "I'm not serious, Eddie! I broke up with Jonathan to focus on school."

"Doesn't mean you can't take a break and have some fun every once in a while," Eddie grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at her, causing her to laugh.

"Oh! Can we please talk about something else?!" Dustin exclaimed, his cheeks red. "There are children in the room."

"Oh, you're just mad because you used to have a crush on Nancy," Max said.

"How do you know that?!" Dustin asked.

"Lucas told me," Max said.

"Why?!"

"Payback for not telling me about your crush on me!" Lucas exclaimed.

"Get a room," Max rolled her eyes.

"Okay, first of all, I'm with Suzie, and second of all, that's your ex-boyfriend," Dustin said.

"Not anymore," Max said.

"No, I'm definitely still with Suzie," Dustin replied.

"No, I mean, I got back together with Lucas," Max blushed, and Lucas grinned proudly.

"We're going to go to the movies," Lucas said.

"When did this happen?" Robin asked.

"When we were in the back of Nancy's car," Max said.

"Aw, and I missed it? What was I doing?" Robin asked.

"Making eyes at Vickie," Max smirked, and Vickie giggled.

"Ah. Can't really blame me now, can you?" Robin asked as she leaned her forehead against Vickie's.

Vickie smiled and kissed her. Robin giggled happily against her lips and wrapped her arms around her.

"It's all coming together. . .except for Nancy and Gareth," Dustin said.

"Hey, I'm happy being single, man," Gareth said. "All the guys are idiots right now anyway, or they're taken. For some, it's both."

Gareth stared pointedly at Eddie, who flipped him off.

"Me too! I mean, not the guys are idiots things. Well, you're not completely wrong about that. Girls are a little idiotic too," Nancy smiled. "I'm very happy being single."

"You like girls?" Max asked.

"Well, I'm open to the possibility to it," Nancy said. "I'm not going to tie one arm behind my back."

"Who said that?" Eddie asked.

"James Dean," Steve and Nancy said together.

Everyone looked at them in surprise.

"What? Did you think Steve and I talked about nothing while we were together?" Nancy asked.

"We also both like Tom Cruise," Steve said.

They continued talking until people started falling asleep. Steve and Nancy were the only ones awake, remaining fully on guard as they talked. The news was still playing softly in the background.

"Shouldn't they have been here by now?" Steve asked as he carded his fingers through Eddie and Chrissy's hair.

"Yeah," Nancy frowned.

"Do you think that they got lost?" Steve asked.

"They would have radioed us by now if they did," Nancy said. "I'm going to try to reach out."

She shoved Gareth's feet off her lap and grabbed the walkie that she had laid on the counter next to the stereo. When she got no response, she shared a worried look with Steve.

"We didn't think about them being out in public with Jason on the loose," Steve paled.

"Didn't worry about who?" Eddie asked, blinking sleepily and pouted. "You stopped rubbing my head. Is Uncle Wayne back?"

Nancy and Steve shared another worried look. Eddie snapped up, wide awake now.

"They're not back yet?" Eddie asked with wide eyes.

"What's happening?" Chrissy asked sleepily.

"Uncle Wayne and the guys aren't back yet," Eddie replied.

"Shit," Chrissy said, as she sat up.

Eddie jumped up and started pacing. He hurried to the front of the house. Everyone followed him into the living room and watched as he peered through the curtains.

"Eddie," Steve said softly. "We have those curtains up for a reason."

Eddie breathed heavily through his mouth and closed the curtain. He stepped back from the window and started pacing again.

"This is my fault. I shouldn't have told him anything. He shouldn't have followed me," Eddie said sniffling.

Steve stood in front of him, causing him to stop. He cupped Eddie's face.

"Wouldn't you have done the same thing if it was the other way around?" Steve asked.

"Yeah," Eddie said softly. "I just don't want anything to happen to him."

"I know, baby," Steve said softly.

He pulled Eddie into his arms and held him. Chrissy came up behind Eddie and hugged him. There came a knock on the door, and they all tensed up. A moment later came the secret knock. Dustin sighed and opened the door. Frank, Jeff, and Wayne walked into the living room with piles of groceries in their arms. Lucas and Dustin went to help unload them.

"Sorry, I forgot," Frank said.

Once the groceries were out of Wayne's arms, Eddie replaced them, hugging him tightly.

"You were gone for a while," Eddie said.

"I'm fine, son," Wayne said. "Someone alerted Jason when we were at the grocery store. We're fine, though."

"Yeah, we had to shake them. Made him think you were up at Lover's Lake at Rick's," Jeff grinned. "Your uncle is awesome."

"He's a little old for you, Jeff," Eddie grinned.

"Boy!" Wayne exclaimed.

Jeff shoved Eddie as he passed him, shaking his head.

"I'm glad you're okay, old man," Eddie grinned. "I'm going to have to keep an eye on you now. Don't want to keep on worrying about you getting into trouble."

"Kind of like how I've been doing all these years with you?" Wayne asked dryly. "Boy, how on earth did you get two people to like you at the same time?"

"You're asking me? I still have no idea," Eddie shrugged and leaned forward to whisper loudly. "I think there might be something wrong with them."

Wayne had bought mostly non perishables, but he also bought a couple of frozen pizzas and waffles. Steve laughed about it with Dustin, Lucas, Max, Nancy, and Robin. Everyone else was confused.

"It's waffles," Eddie said slowly.

They heated up the pizza in the oven and ate it on paper plates while sitting on the floor and sipping warm sodas. An hour later, they were relaxing comfortably against each other. Suddenly, the radio crackled, and the breaking news sound came through. Nancy turned it up.

"We're getting an anonymous call from someone at Lover's Lake," the reporter said. "A body of a young high schooler has been dragged out of the lake. No word on whether foul play was involved."

Everyone stared at each other in stunned silence.

"Patrick," Lucas muttered sadly.

The radio crackled, and a song startled to play loudly. The lights flickered.

We'll meet again

Don't know where

Don't know when

But I know we'll meet again

some sunny day

Chapter Eleven

[writingtraumaforever]

Uncontrolled Chaos: Chapter 5

Notes: Woohoo! New chapter!! Forgive my very poor explanation of parallel universes and all things science. I have a small brain but a big heart.

Summary: Sonic, Tails and Shadow discuss who Shadow is, how he got there, and what to do about it.

Chapter Select: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 6

Support me on my Ao3!

Start:

“So you’re seriously suggesting this Shadow isn’t our Shadow??“

Sonic doesn’t seem very happy about this. He’s now looking at Shadow skeptically as well as with an enormous amount of concern.

“Impossible,” Shadow says simply, “There’s only one Ultimate Lifeform.”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s definitely concrete proof right there,” Tails says sarcastically, his arms crossed as he looks at Shadow, “Plus, by my understanding, there’s two Ultimate Lifeforms. You and Sonic.

“Oh, we are soo not getting into that right now,” Sonic groans before Shadow can comment, rubbing his temples with his fingers as he shuts his eyes and tilts his head down, “I’m getting a headache..”

“Join the club,” Shadow mutters, his arms crossed now as he leans back on the couch.

“So let’s say this Shadow isn’t our Shadow..,” Sonic says, lifting his eyes once more to Tails, “How the heck does that even work?? Where did he come from??? And where did my Shadow go??”

My Shadow.

Not our.

My.

That stands out to the ebony hedgehog, but he doesn’t comment.

”I have some theories..,” Tails ponders, rubbing his chin with his fingers, “None are a sure thing, but they are possible.”

“Well, I’m all ears,” Sonic says with a frown, panic evident in his wide eyes and how he’s fidgeting with his his fingers.

Why’s he so distressed???

“For starters, we do know that scientifically speaking, if one existence occurs in an alternate timeline, it must be replaced with another of the same kind,” Tails says simply, looking at Shadow and Sonic who just blink at him silently.

Tails sighs and dumbs it down, “If new Shadow is here, old Shadow is there.”

“You don’t live in some dangerous, apocalyptic universe, do you???” Sonic asks worriedly to Shadow, Shadow rolling his eyes with a shake of his head.

“No.”

“Oh thank Gaia..,” Sonic breathes.

“That was a few years ago..”

“WHAT?!”

“Don’t get so jumpy, Hedgehog,” Shadow huffs, narrowing his eyes at the blue blur who looks like he could be ill, “Any version of myself is more than capable of facing any obstacle he may stumble upon.”

Sonic just pouts a bit at this, his ears folding back as he thinks on Shadow’s words and tries to believe in them.

Shadow can see that’s not going to stop his stress anytime soon, though.

“Okay. So we know my Shadow is okay somewhere then.”

“Most likely,” Shadow agrees with a nod.

“HE IS,” Sonic assists with a glare before breathing a sigh and, “..So how do we switch them back??”

“That’s gonna be the tricky part..,” Tails rubs the back of his neck, his face scrunched in thought, “If I had to make an estimated guess on how this all came to be, I’d say it was due to both Shadow’s forcing artificial Chaos Control at the same time in their separate worlds. The fact it wasn’t organic probably caused a disturbance in the balance of the multiverse— which this is all just phenomenal proof it exists, by the way—!”

“Tails. Focus. Nerd out later.”

“Right. Anyway. They likely created a rift in the place between universes. A massive amount of self-made energy that created a tear between time and space from both sides.. The theory of the multiverse is there’s infinite universes that exist alongside each other. Our universes must just be parallel to one another, touching but not interacting— well.. until now.”

“Okay..,” Sonic nods, trying to take this in and understand it as he looks at the ground in thought, “Okay, so-.. so if there’s a tear, then can’t we just—“

He motions to Shadow and then moves his arms as if to push him through something.

Tails snorts, “Well, it’s not quite that simple.”

“Never is..,” Shadow mutters to himself, staying quiet for the most part so he himself can process his current situation.

“Why not??” Sonic’s brows knit, looking to his brother now.

“Well that energy itself was Chaos Energy. Which means—“

“The laws of time and space don’t matter to it,” Shadow finishes, now understanding a bit better.

Tails nods, “Exactly. It happened in less than an instant— not even an instant! Chaos Control is when time stops completely, and the user is briefly able to manipulate it before it returns right back to normal.”

“So the tear is closed?” Sonic frowns, ears lowering as his body slouches.

“Tear is closed..,” Tails confirms with an apologetic nod. He then offers a little smile, “But! We know it’s possible, now. Which means it’s possible to make it happen again.”

“How do we do that if the energy has to come from both sides of the multiverse??” Shadow questions, now much more collected since he knows why everything and everyone is acting so weird. As long as he has a reason, he can be reasonable in response.

“Well.. that’s what’ll take time,” Tails says with a scratch behind his ear, “I’ll have to work on that. Do some research. But if I had to guess, I’d say our best bet is to try and connect with our parallel universe and find a way to contact our Shadow.”

Sonic nods a bit hopefully at that, seeming eager at the idea of contacting this universe’s Ultimate Lifeform.

“And are you the most suitable for such a feat as this??” Shadow questions, his brow quirking at the fox.

Tails furrows his brows at Shadow, tightening his fists at his sides with a determined expression on his face, “I can do it.”

Shadow hums, seeming satisfied with this.

“It’ll take time. But I’ll have to be on this twenty-four, seven. Who knows what this sort of anomaly could cause! Defects in gravity, collisions of realities— heck, our whole world could be swallowed up if the multiverse tries to fix itself before we can!”

Both Shadow and Sonic’s eyes widen, their arms and jaws dropping at this information.

“…Great! Swell. Well, you get on that then, buddy,” Sonic beams with that obnoxious go-getter attitude of his, approaching Tails with a pat on the back before squeezing his shoulder with a little shake, “Because the world collapsing could really put a damper on my plans to live the way past coolest life ever.”

“Right..,” Tails chuckles a bit nervously, the weight of this task seeming to settle itself on his shoulders.

‘Good,’ Shadow thinks, ‘This needs to be taken seriously by someone.’

“Hey,” Sonic says, crouching down to get Tails’ attention. The fox’s eyes raise to his older brother’s again, nervousness and fear now replacing the determination he had previously shown.

“You got this,” Sonic assures with a smile, “If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

Tails offers a small smile at that, the confidence of his guardian seeming to be enough to make that spark return, “Thanks, Sonic..”

“Besides,” Sonic adds with a grin, “I know that the Tails in the other universe will be working his butt off to fix this too.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure..,” Shadow says with a frown, now pondering a whole other problem with this entire situation.

Sonic frowns, looking to Shadow with a tilt of his head, “How come?”

“The Miles Prower in my universe isn’t exactly..,” he pauses, choosing his words on how to put this, “On the best of terms with me.”

[acroagoraphobe]

I NEED MOAAAAR HC'S OF JOSHUA PRE-BURNS PLEASE AND THANK YOU

WOOHOO GLADLY!!

Only cooked his own food so it would fit his very specific requirements (He can't trust food given to him by other people) [Now he just doesn't care because he's not as much of a prissy bitch.]

Couldve been pretty good at sewing, but he didn't have the patience.

Constant headaches because the legion is a bunch of stupid children.

Never heard him yell but when you did, Whole world goes silent. When everything goes silent randomly, you know Joshua was PISSED. (Still applies)

Constantly readjusting his clothes making sure he always looked like he was about to go to church.

Would 100% wipe his boots off on the corpses of people he considered lesser.

Just generally worse, like he used to be "Im better and smarter than everyone here, theyre all scumbags."

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

Summary: Din opens up to Ann a bit more

A/N: Hello lovelies,

I hope everyone is doing well. I throughly enjoyed my day off, with cleaning, baking, and doing my taxes. Woohoo. Talk about living the dream!

I hope everyone has a lovely weekend. Also heads up there are only two chapters left for this part.

Love oo

Due to the past history of the OC there will be discussions alluding to past domestic abuse, please note that as it could be a trigger for some.

Warnings: Awkward conversations and question, discussions about flirting, chewing with your mouth open, seeing dead people. If I miss any warnings, please let me know.

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THE CRESTWORLD

CHAPTER TWELVE

The wind brushed against my face as we drove back to the ranch, silence had filled the truck since we left the diner. I wasn’t sure if Din was irritated with me or Cobb, but either way I wasn’t going to be the first to break the silence between us and cause Din a bigger headache. 

He felt a tension in the truck as he drove, he hated how quiet she got when it was just the two of them at times, he let out a huff, “Um … ahem! I didn’t realize you and Cobb had gotten that close” he muttered, hating that was the only thing that popped into his head.

“Close?” I turned to look at him a little confused, “What close, that’s called being friendly.”

“Seemed more like flirting to me.”

Why did he care if she was flirting with Cobb, that was her business. She was simply an employee, it had nothing to do with him.

I leaned against the door as I turned to look at him, a smirk appearing on my lips, as I took in his demeanour.

“Let me get this straight. You, Mister ‘I only speak when I absolutely have to’, believe that my casual conversation, chewing with my mouth open, and let’s not forget to mention telling him off was flirting to you?”

He glanced over to her, realizing how absurd his statement had been. He kept his eyes focused on the road ahead of him, why had it appeared more than what it was when they were in the diner? He matched her smirk, giving a slight nod, “Okay, point taken.”

“I mean I could be wrong,” I held up my hands in surrender, “maybe you find seeing someone eating their food with their mouths open, really attractive.”

Din let out a chuckle, shaking his head, “No. No, that’s not attractive, at all.”

I tilted my head as I looked at him, a thought in the back of my head that wouldn’t drop, “Can I ask you a question, if I’m crossing a line just say so?”

The small smirk on his lips fell away as his hand clenched around the steering wheel, focusing his eyes on the road ahead. 

“I feel that if you have to ask if you’re crossing the line, you’ve probably already crossed the line and should know better.”

I bit my bottom lip nodding, “Yeah, you’re probably right. Never mind. Forget it.”

Din glanced back over to her, letting out a long sigh, as he noticed she focused her attention out the window. 

Camilla always said that he had to learn to not be so guarded, not everyone was trying to hurt him, not everyone was someone who couldn’t be trusted. He promised her all those years ago when the doctor told them they needed to prepare for the worst and hope for the best, before they rolled her into the surgery to deliver Grogu. He promised he’d do better, not just for Grogu’s sake but for his own. He could still feel the ghost of her touch on his cheek, as if she was still there reminding him to let people in, he took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

He shifted in his seat, cursing himself for being a stubborn old fool. He cleared his throat, glancing over to Ann wondering if she’d ask the question regardless. Yet, only silence greeted him, and her focus on the outside was intense. He really had to learn to stop putting his foot in his mouth, he could see she wasn’t going to say anything. He had to make the effort to continue the conversation once again. 

“Okay, now, you got me curious, just ask away.”

I looked back over to the man sitting beside me. His body was stiff, his hand clenching against the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were going white. Even his brows furrowed as if it took all his effort to simply concentrate on his driving. 

I had wanted to ask if he ever thought about going on a date with Omera, but seeing how uneasy he was, I just couldn’t bring myself to ask. I couldn’t do that to him, not when it clearly was causing him such distress. But now I couldn’t exactly not ask anything, especially since he asked and was waiting for me to ask my question.

“Okay, um …” I shifted in my seat, turning to look at him fully, trying to think of some sort of question that might be somewhat interesting. I cleared my throat, “am I your first female farmhand?”

Din couldn’t help laughing out loud, “That’s what got you so nervous? All you wanted to know was if you were my first female farmhand?” 

He glanced over to Ann again, as her smile stretched wider as a chuckle escaped her lips, he noticed how her hands tightened against her knees. Her nails were practically digging into her jeans.

Realization hit him, the question she asked wasn’t the one she intended to ask, initially. He wondered if maybe she saw his discomfort or if maybe she had a change of mind and thought better than to ask the question she initially thought of. He ran his hand through his hair, wondering, how bad could her question have been that she avoided asking it? 

He noticed they passed Peli’s garage, they weren’t far from their destination and the stop they needed to make before going back to the ranch. Well they weren’t in any great rush, so there was no need to speed up or avoid answering or talking to her, his hand trailed over his moustache and beard.  

“… You are my first live-in farmhand, regardless of gender. All the other previous farmhands that worked on the ranch or helped out with the house lived in town. Not to mention, most didn’t last long because of Grogu.”

“Hmm, I can see that. I was wondering, and I hope I can ask. Does he have a nervous disorder or is it that he’s really shy?”

“He’s just a shy kid, at first anyway. The doctor said that’s normal, that there are some children that are naturally shy, timid, introverted and prefer keeping to themselves. Grogu is shy at first but I think he’s just trying to see if he can trust someone before he opens up to them. Plus, he …” Din couldn’t help smiling as he thought of his son, “he inherited his mom’s ability to see people.”

“See people? Like … he sees dead people?” I glanced over to Din, who looked as though I had grown an extra head, I shrugged my shoulders, “What?”

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