#apparently this was to roll out a new candy bar

[morganoperandi]

I had a dream last night that the candy bar, Almond Joy, had a new mascot who was explicitly a trans woman.

There was a commercial where the mascot is sitting in an airplane and their friend sees them and says: “Joy! Oh my gosh, you look so good!”

Joy responds “Thanks! I had my nuts removed.” Big smile. Wink at the camera.

[magicandpizza]

19 👀👀 I feel like it can go any direction and I am excited to see which direction you take it in

Hello! There was only one possible direction for me :D

19. “You’re pretty.” “You’re drunk.”

A rare night off finds Jesper and Wylan making the trip from the Geldstraat to the Crow Club to enjoy a few drinks with some of the other Dregs. 

Inej is in town again, and Jesper quickly loses his merchling to her and Nina, the three of them huddled together on their own little table, sharing a pitcher of something an alarming shade of pink.

“Fold,” Jesper says, chucking his cards onto the table in front of him. He’s not gambling, not with money anyway. Kaz would never let him for a start, and the Dregs know better than to tempt him. Instead they’re playing with expensive honey candies that Anika acquired. 

The game ends and Jesper collects his winnings, heading to the bar in search of another drink. He finds Kaz there, ostensibly keeping an eye on everything, but mostly just staring at Inej. 

“Happy she’s back?” Jesper asks and receives a scowl in response. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

“Your boyfriend is hammered,” Kaz says, eyes flitting over to Wylan as he woozily stands up from the table along with Nina, the pair of them heading towards the bar. 

“So? He’s having a nice time.”

“If he throws up on my floor, you’re cleaning it.”

Jesper rolls his eyes, looping an arm around Wylan’s waist once he gets close enough and tugging him in against his side. His cheeks are flushed almost the same colour as the mysterious cocktail he’d been drinking, and Nina isn’t faring much better. Nevertheless, he hears her order another pitcher of their drink.

“Hello, darling. Are you having fun?” Jesper asks, pressing a kiss to Wylan’s rosy and warm cheeks.

Leaning heavily on Jesper’s arm, Wylan tips his head back to gaze up at him, expression adoring. “You’re pretty,” he says, a sappy smile plastered on his face.

Jesper laughs, fond. “You’re so drunk, Wy. What have you been drinking?” 

Shrugging, Wylan says, “I don’t know, but it tastes good.” He leans in closer, a little unsteady on his feet, and presses his face into the hollow of Jesper’s throat. His next words come out a little mumbled. “You wanna know a secret? I’m gonna marry you one day.”

Heart fluttering, Jesper can only say, “Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” Wylan hums, apparently unaware of the life-altering news he’s just dropped. “Not just yet though, gotta wait for the right time.”  

“Right,” Jesper murmurs, brain stuck on a loop of Wylan wants to marry me.

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

Love your writing and requesting a fic that is literally Gray and Lyra shopping for limes. And Lyra making Gray go speechless (bonus points if Gigi tags along)

ofc!! (im so sorry this took so long I’ve had 0 motivation lately im sorry 😢😢)

Grocery Store Confessions - a grayson x lyra fic

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Lyra picked up the bar of dark chocolate before placing it down in her cart as she followed Grayson and Gigi towards the snack section. Gigi had her car privileges taken away after she rammed it into a tree, and was now getting driving lessons from Grayson. Since she doesn’t have a car, as it’s in the shop, she asked if Grayson would drive her to the store. And as her older brother, Grayson had obliged. And of course Lyra was tagging along, because that was her new job as Grayson’s girlfriend. Gigi bounced towards the candy section of the aisle, before grabbing 5 bags of gummy’s and treats.

“I don’t know how you eat that much candy. It’s too sweet.” Grayson said, giving all the candy in her arms a look. Gigi just rolled her eyes before turning to Lyra with a grin.

“Lyra, do you want some candy? It will pair extremely well with your…” She trailed off as she glanced at the dark chocolate bar in the cart with a sour look. “Bitter chocolate.” Now its was Lyra’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Dark chocolate is supposed to be bitter. That’s why it tastes so good.” Lyra said with a half shrug. Gigi just stuck her tongue out, before speeding towards whatever other aisle had caught her attention.

Lyra turned before grabbing a bag of chips off the shelves, bending over to pick it up, and just as she did, she heard whispers from not too far away. Just outside of the aisle, she saw a group of teenagers boys close to her age whispering and stealing glances at her behind. As soon as their gazes met Lyra’s glare though, they started hollering and laughing before taking off. Lyra just scoffed before harshly grabbing the chips and straightening up again. Just as she did, she felt a hand on her waist. As soon as she looked down she recognized it. Grayson’s. His arm wrapped around her waist and he pulled her closer to him. Lyra smiled before looking up at him, and seeing a dark look on his face as he watched the boys jackrabbit towards the exit. Her smile only grew. Possessive, much.

“Maybe those boys were working up the courage to ask me for my number and you scared them off.” She said, her brow raising at him. His eyes met hers and a flash of surprise crossed his features. Alright, it’s clear that those weird boys were just looking for a girl to catcall, but teasing Grayson was hilarious.

“And what would you say?” He asked her, matching her brow raise with his own. Lyra took his hand off her waist and held both of them in hers as she took a step back, thinking.

“Oh, this guy?” Lyra said in a girly voice, angling her head to Grayson. “He’s just my lawyer. I’d be happy to take your number, hehe.” She twirled her hair dramatically, and a smile that only Lyra got to see touched his lips as he pulled her by her waist closer to him.

“Sure, sweetheart.” He said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her neck. Lyra glowed from the touch, and just as she was about to say something else, Gigi popped out from another aisle.

“Guys!!” She said, hollering for no apparent reason. The two turned to her with a confused look on their faces. “I forgot we need to actually get grocery’s. Mom gave me a list.” Gigi pulled out a sheet of paper from her pocket. Grayson sighed, but Lyra just smiled before speaking.

“Alright, Gigi.”

The three of them were almost done the short grocery list Acacia had given them, but there was just one thing left: limes. Gigi went to pick up a bunch, before turning to Grayson with a grin.

“Remember these?” She said, her voice teasing. Grayson tensed suddenly, and Lyra got the feeling that he was hiding something.

“No.” He said. But just a bit too quickly, Lyra thought with an internal smirk. Lyra was wearing an innocent smile as she turned to Grayson.

“Why would you remember them?” She asked, her tone completely innocent as she gazed up at him. He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear before speaking.

“I don’t, and I have no reason to.” He told her softly. Then his expression changed into a glare as his gaze averted to Gigi. “Gigi’s just making things up for entertainment.” Gigi shrugged before speaking, a sly smile on her face.

“Sure I aaammmm.” She sang, stretching out the words as she grabbed the cart and limes from Grayson and took off towards the cash register. Lyra raised her brow at him, but Grayson just took her hand and walked after Gigi, grumbling “I said I was paying” as he did.

Once they were all in the car, with Grayson driving, Lyra in the passenger seat, and Gigi in the back, Gigi spoke up.

“Lyra, do you want to know the story behind the limes?” She asked with a mischievous grin.

“No, she doesn’t.” He said, his tone meant to end the conversation. Gigi, however, didn’t get the hint or just didn’t care.

“It was 3 years ago, before the first Grandest Game was created, and before I knew we were siblings. Him and I were at the store and-“

“Enough, Juliet.” Grayson said, cutting her off. Lyra turned to him, and was surprised to see the slightest blush on her face. Lyra had made him blush once before, but seeing it now still made her jaw want to drop. It was an unusual look for him.

“No, Gigi,” Lyra said, her tone teasing. Grayson glanced at her, surprise clear on his face. “Keep going.” Gigi obliged.

“So we were at the store, and I was confused on why he had a sudden interest with what happened to my father. And me, being the only one who didn’t know Grayson was our brother, decided to come to the horrifying conclusion that he and Savannah were-“ She stopped suddenly, but Lyra still shuddered as she realized what Gigi was getting at. “Snorking.” Gigi finished lamely. Lyra raised a brow at that, as nobody before had ever referred to two people dating as “snorking”, but Gigi was already moving on.

“Anyway. To prove that they didn’t, in fact, date in the past, he went on this whole tangent…” Gigi paused dramatically, grinning as she leaned forward in her seat to peer at Grayson. “About his girlfriend.” The blush on his cheeks grew a tiny bit redder, but Grayson kept his eyes on the road.

“So what?” He gritted out. Lyra was confused why he was embarrassed, and also confused on why he never told her about this girlfriend. Maybe it was an ex talking stage, or maybe he still had something going on with Eve, or maybe…

When Lyra realized what Gigi was getting at, she couldn’t hold a snort back as she bursted out laughing.

“You had to make up a fake girlfriend so Gigi didn’t think you were dating your sister?! Oh my god!” Lyra teased Grayson often, but this was beyond teasing. Right now, she was doubled over laughing, twisting around in her seat so she can breathe.

“Lyra!” He exclaims. Lyra wiped her tears, a smile still on her face, as she glanced at Grayson’s betrayed expression. That only made her laugh more.

“Okay, okay!” Lyra choked out, finally done laughing, “What was this fake girlfriend like?” Gigi grinned.

“Unexpected, smart,” Gigi stated, clearly trying to imitate Grayson’s deep voice. “Not perfect, and when I’m with her, I don’t have to be either. More stuff, but I honestly forget.” Lyra turned to Grayson.

“How poetic.” She says, biting her lip to keep her laugh in. Grayson just hums in response as he glances at her, his eyes softening as he takes in her happy expression, even if it came at his expense.

“I can be.” He says. Then, he glanced at her again, before imitating a hurt face. “But not anymore, because you made fun of me.” Lyra faked a pout, before leaning over the best she could with a seat belt, taking his face in her hands, and kissing his lips. It was a quick peck, but Lyra still felt electricity run through her body all the same.

“You’ll be fine.” Lyra says with a smile as she sits back in her seat.

“Ugh, I am never going in a car with you guys again!” Gigi exclaimed from the backseat, while making gagging noises. Lyra just rolled her eyes in response, meeting Grayson’s eyes and seeing a look in them that made her heart skip.

Love.

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why do i feel like gigi + jameson bitch and moan when lyra and grayson kiss?? like i feel like they’d make such a big deal about it as a joke LMFAOOO

also i hope u like it!! :))

[booppooo]

Could I request a fem!reader x Ellie in modern au where ellie and reader see each other at a club and end up dancing with sexual tension till they take it further, feeling needy for each other? Your works are literally breathtaking

Who's That Chick?

Ellie Williams x Fem! Reader One-Shot

AN: thank you!!! This request was breathtaking teehee. *sniff sniff* is that a series I'm smelling?

Warnings: where do I even start.... strangers to lovers, smoking (cigarettes and weed), drinking, bar/club setting, oral sex (reader receiving), thigh riding, swearing

-

21.

You were a fully legal adult. You could buy cigarettes, and drink, and walk into bars, and even rent a hotel room!

Twenty-one was so young yet so mature. Tonight, you were going to take advantage of being young. This was going to be your night to experiment with all your new legalities.

So first you stopped at a gas station and bought a pack of cigarettes. Not that you had ever tried any before, but it had always piqued your interest. You unwrapped the plastic, took out five, and handed the rest to the homeless person huddled up outside who screamed at you for almost throwing them in the garbage can.

In your car you grabbed your lighter and held the flame to the end of the cancer stick. The smoke rolled down the back of your throat and into you lungs, burning in an oddly satisfying way. You coughed, took some sips of water, and went in for another drag. Next up was the bar.

For safety reasons you sent your friends your location and took the bus to the nearest gay friendly bar. If you were going to spend your first night shitfaced, it would be better around lesbians than icky drunk men. For the hell of it you smoked another one of your cigarettes, popped in a mint, and confidently sauntered in.

As you expected the music was loud. A layer of smoke hovered near the lights and the bar was littered with the lonely hearts club.

"Can I get a gin and tonic?" You ordered, taking a seat. Before you moseyed onto the dance floor you wanted to get some drinks in you - that and feel out the place.

The bartender started a tab and placed your drink in front of you, winking and smacking her gum. She pointed at another attendee and asked, "What can I get ya tonight hon?"

"Hey Stella, I'll have what she's having and a shot of tequila."

Stella smiled, "Comin' right up El."

The space between you and the person in the next seat over was occupied by a limber, freckled red-head, apparently named El. You got a general idea of what she looked light through the flashing lights. She was eye candy to say the least.

The heels of her hands rested on the edge of the bar, an elaborate tattoo peaking beyond her rolled up flannel sleeve and her auburn strands loosely pulled back into a low bun, one lock falling by her cheek. When she faced you, you noted the scar through her eyebrow and the shit-eating grin on her face.

The gin and tonic and El's smug smirk made your stomach warm with laughter.

"What?" her smirk grew, "I haven't even told the punchline yet?"

Her charisma made your cheeks flush, "Oh do tell."

"Alright so, two blondes walk into a bar, you think one of 'em would see it."

This had you chewing your lip and scratching your head in thought. You repeated her words slowly back to her, studying her emerald tinted eyes.

"Don't think about it too hard." She chuckled and thanked Stella for her drinks, immediately throwing back her shot.

"You think one of them would see it....oh!" Again you laughed, then rolled your eyes at how stupid the joke was. Or maybe at how stupid the joke made you feel.

"Should've I started with a pick up line?" The glass met her lips and she let the liquor sit in her mouth for a second before nodding in approval.

You pondered her question sarcastically, "I don't know El, you got a better pick up line?"

"Ellie- and I might, only if you want to hear of course."

She pulled a small compact out of her pocket with an old flip top lighter, pulling out a finely rolled joint and pinching it between her lips. The lighter was rolled against her leg in alternating directions, as if she had done it a thousand times, and held the flame to the edge of the joint.

"Now I'm curious, what could be better than two blondes walking into a bar?"

Her rough, lithe fingers reached for the nearest ash tray and tapped the excess from the joint into the already overflowing dish. She handed the joint to you. Tonight was filled with lots of firsts.

"I've got a few actually. But uh, do you know how lesbians have sex? It's kinda complicated, I'd have to show you."

You didn't know if it was from the joint or how off guard Ellie had caught you, either way you choked up. This time she was laughing at you, taking the joint back and taking a long drag, "C'mon it wasn't that bad."

To coat your throat some you took a sip of your drink, "It wasn't bad at all, just not what I was expecting." You watched her expertly let the smoke slither from her lips into her nose, "It's a good thing I'm a hands on learner." Quickly you bit your lip to hide your smile, scared to dip your toes any further into flirting.

Ellie swirled her drink around and then quickly tossed back what was left, "Speaking of hands on, wanna dance?" Her eyes were a light shade of red around her tipsy pupils and mossy irises, her smile was a little more tame, yet she was just as lively.

With a tad more enthusiasm than you would've liked, you took her hand and moved to the dance floor, stomach toasty and most definitely tipsy. If the music wasn't loud before, it definitely was now. The bass from the speakers vibrated your feet and bones.

Ellie began to bop her head, silently urging you to dance along with her. She creeped her way closer to you, eventually landing a hand on your hip and zapping all your nerves with excitement. You swayed your hips and sang the words you knew, holding her vision, unable to contain your smile.

Soon her waist was against yours, moving in sync with your maneuvering hips. She was so close and yet so far, everywhere and no where. Her tongue darted out to wet her full lips, before her teeth pinched her bottom lip and her eyes fell to watch your pelvis's dance as one. Both of her hands had a grip on your waist, and guided you along with her. You didn't know if you were sweating because of dancing, or because of her. She reached the shell of your ear, "Fuck you make me so hot."

As she pulled away her lips lightly dusted your neck, but not enough to kiss you, teasing you to see if you'd take her bait (as if you hadn't at her dumb joke).

It was time for you to get handsy. One set of fingers was resting in the crook of her neck, the other gently holding her jaw, meanwhile you both lightly bounced to the beat. Your heart was hammering against your chest so intensely it made your ribs ache, and your stomach begin to do summersaults. Somehow you felt all of this through the gin and tonic numbing most of your logic and muscles. That somehow was Ellie. She made you feel alive.

That shit eating grin reappeared on her pretty lips again, and you surveyed them for a beat before reconnecting your gaze. She was clever and quickly noticed what you were hinting at, letting her own eyes flicker from your lips and back, then arching a brow. When she noticed you slowly leaning in, she followed suit.

The thick, tense, smokey air between your lips was bridged, and in that same instant your spine shivered as goosebumps littered your skin. As you expected you tasted alcohol, weed faintly in the background. She found a sweet balance between firm and gentle, wet and dry, soft and chapped. You never wanted to leave this moment.

But alas, you had to pull away at some point, immediately noticing the expansion in her pupils and the giddy smile on her cheeks. She leaned near your ear again, "Let's get out of here."

You didn't need telling twice.

With a quick pit stop at the bar, Ellie kindly paid for both your drinks and then you were outside into the bitter night air. To keep yourself warm you lit one of your final cigarettes. Again, Ellie found her way next to you, snaking her arm across the small of your back and onto your hip, keeping you close to her as you walked to the bus stop.

There had to be some sort of morbid curiosity to smoking a cigarette, especially in the cold, watching as the smoke doubled against the chilled wind and holding yourself close. You wouldn't dare buy another pack, but for the ambiance (and truthfully to impress Ellie some) you enjoyed it while you could. 

Speaking of the freckled girl, you began to learn how sneaky she was, swooping in while your cigarette was still between your lips and plucking it from you before you finished your drag. You kissed your teeth at her and snipped a small, 'hey!' but she didn't mind you too much. The end of the cancer stick burned a bright red as she took a long, deep hit, then she flicked it away. Her hand guided your expression to her's, then pressed her tender lips to yours once again, before blowing her smoke into your mouth.

"Those'll kill ya." she whispered.

"You're a little hypocrite, you know that?"

"If you say so, pretty girl."

The bus pulled up just as you arrived at the bus stop.

-

Ellie's apartment was closer, and to make up for her kindness at the bar you paid your bus wages. At her apartment she apologized for the mess and offered you some water or tea.

"Tea? That sounds pretty good, what kind do you have?" You rested your folded arms on her kitchen counter, overlooking the sink to watch her putter around near the fridge.

"None actually, people don't ask me for tea. I hope water is okay," she searched around her fridge, "I have two beers left if you want one of those."

"It would feel weird if we didn't share your last two beers."

"Good point."

The remaining amber bottles were taken from their chilled home and placed upon the counter. Ellie popped the lids by catching them on the edge (some chips already evident where she had opened bottles before). You toasted to the two of you and took a quick swig.

Now, she joined you on the opposite end of the sink, leaning against the counter and watching your eyes and lips as you two got to know each other better.

"I'm surprised you didn't try to open these with your teeth," you commented. A smile was stuck on your expression as if you had locked eyes with medusa - that medusa being Ellie who also couldn't stop biting her lip and smiling.

"I didn't know you could do that..." she panned down to her shoes for a moment and chuckled, "but, my mouth can do a few other things."

When a dainty pink tickled her cheeks you grew stunned. All evening she had been shamelessly flirting and joking with you, being sexy to say the least. But this was what made her bashful? Every passing second with her was like unlocking a new chapter to her personality.

You stepped closer, eyeing her from bottom to top, noticing her toned thighs and her faint abs just barely imprinting through her shirt, "Why don't you show me then?"

Both of your bottles were left to grow warm on the counter, your bodies crawling closer to one another as a lustful heat settled over your figures. Her lips were right there, ready for you to swoop in and envelope them in a zestful kiss...until-

"Wait here."

She lightly jogged around the counter again and dug around in her fridge, leaving you high and dry. For the first time that evening you felt a zing of irritation itch at your chest. Growing tired, you rested your head on your palm and waited as she instructed.

The light from the fridge disappeared as the door closed, and Ellie stood in front of it with a cherry between her fingers. She ate the cherry, spat out the pit, and then rested the stem on her tongue. Within a few seconds, she had a knotted cherry stem presented to you, and plucked it from her mouth for you to inspect. Once more you found yourself at a loss for words and just giggling uncontrollably.

"You do this with all the girls you bring home?" You teased, secretly tucking the stem away in your pocket as a keepsake.

Sensually, Ellie found herself near you again, her palm comfortably resting on your hip and sneaking toward your ass, "No actually, just you."

You playfully agreed with her and made an effort to resume where the direction of the night was heading, hooking your arms around her neck.

Ellie got the hint, "Anyway...let me show you what my mouth can really do."

In that same second her lips were latched to yours. Your core grew hot and slick embarrassingly fast, your knees like pudding and your brain melting like butter in a hot pan. She kissed you like this was the last time she would ever kiss anyone, like all her hook ups and steamy make out sessions before we're prepping her for your lips. For this night.

Suddenly she pulled away, a feeble string of saliva attached to both your lips. Her hands had wandered to your ass, one on your thigh tapping lightly, "Jump."

Rightfully so, you shot her a look of distrust, but she held your eyes confidently. If she didn't catch you, you'd just blame it on being drunk.

But she did.

And she had your legs wrapped around her torso, holding you tightly and kissing you that much more deeply as she took to her bedroom.

In one impressing swift motion she had you against the pillows and hovered over you. Both your legs were still propped by her waist and your hands explored beneath her shirt, quickly finding out she wore no bra. While your hands adventured across her strong stature, her tongue adventured in your mouth. Soon her fingers were unbuttoning your pants.

Briefly she pulled away, "Let me know if you want me to stop, and I will."

You whined, "God, please don't."

Pleased, she ran her tongue across her teeth, sending another ripple of arousal toward your thighs. She shimmied closer toward your pelvis, and kindly helped you out of your pants, then your panties.

Despite a shimmer of sweat coating your skin, the air whisking around her apartment still made you mewl when it crossed your center.

"Everything alright?" Her eyes watched you attentively.

"Y-yeah, just cold."

Those bright, grassy eyes shifted, becoming dark and nearly consumed by her pupil at the sight between your legs, "You don't need to worry about that babe."

Next she dipped down, running her tongue along your thigh and smiling sinisterly when you shuddered. Then her tongue dipped into your folds, making a searing, slippery path to your needy clit. Instinctively you hissed and tried to snap your legs shut, but her strength (which she had proudly displayed earlier) kept them exactly where she wanted them.

She met your gaze through the valleys and hills of your body, eyes still a tint of red, but now blown out like an apex predator who spotted their dinner, "Don't hold back, I wanna hear everything."

Your fists had a mighty grip on the sheets and your face was already on fire, but you nodded and grew more comfortable against her pillows.

Before you knew it she was back between your thighs. Her tongue was like a blistering knife cutting through ice cream, only incredibly wet. She swirled her tongue so expertly it had you panting and scratching at the fabric below you. You didn't see how it was possible you were growing more aroused, but your naval was burning at outstanding temperatures and left you nearly blissed out.

"Ah, oh fuck Ellie! Right there - yes."

Thighs already trembling, fingers pulling her strands from her bun, and jaw slack - you were so close to being fucked out, and it felt like you had just begun. She hadn't even used her fingers yet, and it didn't seem like she intended to either, which frazzled your body even more.

Ellie noticed your thighs twitching and knew they were weak. Holding them apart would take a lot more work than pushing them against your chest, so she shoved your limbs against your torso, digging her nails into your plush flesh.

"Oh god..." you gasped, eyes falling back into your head.

Her plump, glossed lips secured around your throbbing clit, sending you to another level of pleasure you didn't think you'd reach. Your orgasm was pooling in your groin, close to a boil and sweet like the finest syrup.

And your naval grew warmer and warmer and hotter and hotter and wetter and wetter until your climax shattered through you.

"I'm cumming- fuck don't stop Ellie!"

You felt limp and electrified at the same time, back peeling from the sheets and head getting lost further into the pillows. The moans working past your lips were unapologetic and unstoppable, like your hips jutting against Ellie's face.

When your orgasm had subsided, you felt like a sticky, sweaty, sensitive mess. Every time Ellie's tongue worked around your cunt to clean up the mess she made, your body jolted, and she soothed you by gently rubbing your thighs.

Finally, she rested your legs against the bed and crawled back over you. Her hair was as messy as yours, cheeks just as pink and smile just as loopy, the only difference was the coat of slick on her lips and chin.

"C'mere gorgeous, taste yourself."

Sloppily you exchanged a kiss, letting your tongues slide past one another and feeling along each other's sweaty physiques. You both pulled away and sucked in a deep breath.

Giggling, you hummed, "Goddamn...I don't know if I can match that."

Tucking some sticky strands behind her ear, she replied, "Let me ride your thigh and we'll call it even."

"Deal."

A new wave of energy took over your bodies and had you leaping at one another. Another hot kiss was shared as you aided her out of her jeans and planted her on your slightly propped knee.

"Take your shirt off hot stuff, I wanna play with your tits." Ellie instructed, tugging at the garment until you discarded it, "Fuck, you're so hot."

You reciprocated her words and let your hands fall to her hips, urging her to guide her core along your muscle, and when you did you groaned along with her.

Feeling her heat against your warm skin was something you didn't think you'd experience, but you were already addicted - completely and totally under the influence of Ellie.

"Yeah, that's it. How's that feel sugar?" You cooed, massaging her hips and waist.

She hummed and reached out for your chest, taking your breasts into her large palms, "So fucking good - hgnn!"

Now her slick was starting to leave a thick, silky layer on your thigh which helped her grind down easier along your limb. With each push and pull of her hips she whimpered a little louder, her freckled skin grew a little pinker, and her lids grew a tad heavier.

You could tell she was getting tired, "C'mon baby, you can do it."

To help, you pressed your leg up against her as she rode down against it, hoping to amplify her pleasure. Her hands that had consistently groped and toyed with your nipples trailed down to your torso to steady herself. She swiveled her hips up and down your leg faster and harder, no longer whimpering but panting.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck-!" She chanted, thick brows pulling into the center and pressing her lips into a fine line.

Then her groin began to stutter, her rolling hips were now sloppy, desperate strokes. When her breath got caught in her throat and she dropped her head you knew she was reaching her climax. To aid her you tried to press your leg against her, which made her shiver and yelp when she grew too sensitive.

"Holy shit..." she sighed, definitely exhausted.

You pulled her into your chest and held her for a moment, sharing a quick kiss before both taking up respective room on her bed.

Unable to keep your eyes off her, you lolled your head to the side to watch her. She seemingly had the same idea, because her eyes were already studying you.

"Share my last cigarette with me?"

Ellie laughed, "Why the hell not?"

You searched around in your pockets for the smoke, your lighter, and snagged her bedside ashtray before sinking back into the sheets. Compared to your first cigarette, the burn wasn't as intense, in fact it was almost welcomed. Still, you'd never smoke another one again.

Ellie had sat up and began to undress her upper body, "Why do you have single cigarettes and not a pack?"

"Why are you getting naked?"

She shrugged, "Didn't want you to feel left out, and I'm sweating."

You nodded, handing her the smoke, answering her question:

"I can legally buy cigarettes now, so I did. I took a couple and gave the rest away."

Her eyes widened at you, "Its your birthday?!" You hummed, "Well then...happy birthday. I hope it was a good one."

The cigarette fell back to your lips, "Definitely."

[braveclementine]

Chapter 13

Warnings: None. (Will however be a 18+ reader book)

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own a few OCs like Elizabeth, Katherine, Stacy, and Jessie. I do not condone any copying of this.

Shuri was the one to wake you up early the next day. Grumbling, you rolled off the bed, stumbling over the door and yanking it open.

"It's so early." You complained as Shuri walked into your room wearing a white T-shirt and a blue short skirt. Your sister was still fast asleep in the bed, completely oblivious to the royal princess standing in your room.

"But we have so much exploring that needs to be done!" Shuri squealed. "Come on, you can't tell me that you don't want to see the entire island, do you?"

You sighed, trudging over to sit on the couch. "Alright, alright, just let me wake up."

Shuri practically squealed, jerking your sister awake.

"What the fuck?" Y/S/N groaned, sitting up in bed, wiping her eyes, "Oh, hello Shuri."

"Hello Y/S/N." Shuri said, grabbing one of your suitcases to rifle through your clothes. She threw something at you, which you ignored as it landed beside you on the couch. "Come on! Get excited! Get dressed! I want breakfast."

You sighed, looking over at the two-piece bathing suit she wanted you to wear underneath a light blue sundress.

You moved to the bathroom, tossing on the clothes, before stepping out. You put on a pair of sneakers that went with the skimpy dress, before you and Shuri left- your sister lucky enough to go back to sleep.

Shuri was bouncing with ridiculous energy as you headed through the grand hotel, and you could feel yourself waking up as energy started to fill you too. You rarely traveled, so being in someplace new and exotic was certainly enticing.

Shuri and you went to one of the buffets that were inside of the hotel. There was such a large variety of food, you had to explore- though not taste- everything.

There were normal breakfast foods like waffles, pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, and several different breakfast pastries. There were also several different cereals- whatever you could think of, they had.

There was a order station where you could ask one of the cooks to make you a fresh omelet. There were also what you would consider 'lunch' food, like pizza. And they had several different pizzas, including a candy pizza which- no. That just looked disgusting.

There were also large baskets of fruit and also bars with chunks of fresh fruit. And of course, a dispenser with several types of juices and sodas. There was also three different types of milk and four different types of coffee.

You found that Shuri and you weren't the only ones down here for breakfast. Okoye quickly joined your side, both being Shuri's guard for the day, and her soulmate. Tony, Fury, Maria, Stephen, Steve, Bucky, and Sam were also up and Shuri, Okoye, and you joined them at the table.

"What are you girls up to today?" Steve asked.

"Swimming!" Shuri said joyfully. "There's an amazing slide that we're going to go on, right Y/N?"

"Uh, yeah." You said, having no idea what you were talking about. Some water slide?

"Nothing to dangerous." Steve commanded you.

You smirked. "So no petting the wild cats?"

"There's wild cats?" Bucky asked, eyes lighting up.

"Oh yeah!" Shuri said excitedly, almost bouncing up and down in her seat with excitement, "When it gets dark on the island, a bunch of cats will come out. Oh, and we could go swim with the wild pigs too. Or maybe the flamingos? Or the dolphins?"

"How about all of them?" You said with a laugh.

"Oh yes, great idea." Shuri said.

"What's a great idea?" T'Challa's tired voice sounded from behind us. Nakia was with him at the moment, but no guards.

"Apparently they're going to swim with pigs, flamingos, and dolphins." Sam said, shaking his head as he ate his bacon.

"You cannot swim with flamingos." T'Challa said with a bit of a smile.

"But we could take pictures among them!" Shuri said.

You felt exhausted already and the day hadn't even started. "What are your guy's plans?"

"Surfing." Bucky and Sam said at the same time.

You nodded, "Sounds like fun."

"Do you mind if I come with you and my little sister?" T'Challa asked.

"Not at all." Shuri said. "We can tease you relentlessly now."

You giggled, "Sure, you can come."

"That's what she said." Tony muttered under his voice. Stephen pinched his ear sharply. "Ow!" Tony shouted in surprise.

"Knock it off Tones." Stephen muttered.

You just ignored him, though the corner of your mouth was just rebelling, trying to smile.

"Hill, Coulson, and I were also going to look at the island pigs." Fury said, rolling his one good eye, "Not sure why, but I guess so."

"Because they're cute!" Maria protested on the other side of him.

Sam lifted a piece of bacon up to the light, "And delicious."

Maria glared at him while you laughed. Fury chuckled too.

Shuri finished off her plate much faster than Okoye or you. She bounced up and down impatiently, waiting for you to finish your plates so that you guys could leave. Once you put your fork down, you barely got a breather before she was grabbing your hand, trying to pull you out of your seat.

"Oi! Woman!" You muttered. "You're breaking my circulation."

Shuri grinned. "Come on you guys! We can't just eat all day!"

"You've been here for less than an hour." Tony pointed out.

"Exactly, much to long." Shuri said.

T'Challa laughed, getting out of his chair with the grace and dignity of, well, a King. He took my other hand, "Alright, Shuri, let's go."

Okoye also stood and the four of us made our way out of the buffet to go and figure out what to do first.

Turns out the water slide that Shuri had mentioned was the one that was most famous in the Bahamas. The one that is shaped like a pyramid. The one where you can either go down on your ass or in a tube. The one that you went through and the sharks were all around you.

"Um, we're going to kill ourselves on that thing." You said as Shuri took off her shirt and skirt, leaving her in an orange two-piece bathing suit. She folded up her clothes, putting them in one of the beach bags that she had over her shoulder. You reluctantly followed suit, putting your shoes and sundress in the bag as well.

Shuri rolled her eyes, dragging you up the stairs. "We only have to ride it twice."

"Twice." You repeated. "You're crazy."

"Come on, going down without a tube is easier anyways. We're getting the hard part out of the way!"

T'Challa was no help, looking amused at the interaction between his sister and you. Okoye, of course, was up for just about anything that Shuri wanted, as long as it wasn't dangerous and T'Challa didn't disapprove.

You were screwed.

You waited anxiously, shifting from foot to foot as you quickly ascended the stairs towards your doom. Your heart was pounding in the chest, every person going down the slide screaming their heads off, faces screwed up in anxiety.

"Do you have a fear of heights?" T'Challa asked as you looked over the edge again, shivering.

"Um-" Did you?

"Don't worry, you'll be perfectly fine." T'Challa said, putting an arm over your shoulder. God he looked so hot in just a pair of black swim trunks. His dark chest was deeply defined and he was being absolutely idolized by half of the female population around us.

The top just coming sooner and sooner before Okoye went first. She made not a sound as she disappeared down the slide.

Shuri, bouncing for excitement, wriggled in anticipation, waiting for the lifeguard to tell her that she could go.

As she went down the slide, you heard her whoop in excitement.

You swallowed as it was your turn now. You stepped onto the slide, feeling the cool water pool around your feet. Hmm, maybe you should've gone for a swim first, before heading directly for a water slide.

"Keep your arms crossed over your chest and your legs crossed at the ankle." The lifeguard instructed you as you laid down, waiting for his single. Your heart was pumping, trying to jump out of your chest as you followed his instructions, "Remember to stay on your back."

It was nearly a vertical fall. If you leaned forward, you'd probably just fall into midair.

Okay- not really- but still.

"Alright, you can go." He said.

Without thinking, you used your heels to push yourself forward, and then you were flying down the slide. You screwed your eyes shut, screaming as you went down. There was a whoosh of exhilaration through you, your stomach dropping. You opened your eyes as you went through the tunnel, but you were going to fast to even see the sharks.

You climbed up to your feet as you shot out of the end of the slide, stumbling over to where Shuri and Okoye were standing.

"Okay, wasn't to bad." You admitted, now that you were standing on solid ground.

"Right! That was so fun!" Shuri squealed.

T'Challa shot out the other side of the slide, almost doing a back flip, his legs sticking straight up in the air as he tumbled out.

You giggled.

"You were very graceful brother." Shuri said with a grin as he climbed out to join us. He simply grinned back, shaking water off his head.

Shuri and you went back up the slide to use the tubes. This time as you bottomed out on the slide, you were in a long glass tunnel, the water calmly pushing you through so that you could see through the glass and observe the sharks.

It was hard to see, as the glass was very thick and the water was dark, but you could still see the sharks if you concentrated hard enough. It was so nerve wracking to think that if the glass just magically broke, you would suddenly be in a pit of water with sharks.

Sure, they were probably well fed, but still, wouldn't you take a bite of dessert even if you were full from your meal?

The thought made goosebumps pop up on your arms, and you were glad when the ride was done.

The four of you spent a majority of the morning and the afternoon exploring different pools and slides. You would occasionally see someone that you knew, and you'd stop to chat, maybe even do something with them, and then inevitably, you'd part ways.

Rhodey and Clint joined you guys for lunch at one of the outdoor places. You ordered a chicken finger and french fry basket, continuously slapping Clint's hands away as he tried to steal your fries.

Clint and Rhodey joined you guys as you continued on. Eventually though, Shuri and Okoye were both getting tired walking around so they went back to the hotel while you stayed with three of your boys.

"What do you guys want to do now?" Clint asked as you tossed your lunch baskets.

"Can we go down to the ocean?" You asked. "We've been spending time at the pools, but we haven't been to the ocean yet."

"Sure sweet mama." Clint grinned. He gave you a piggy back ride down to the ocean, which was just absolutely beautiful.

He put you down once you touched the sand. You gingerly walked around the seaweed that was scattered on the beach. There were several tourists down here, laying down on towels or plastic chairs. Lots of kids were out, playing in the surf. Some ski jets were speeding around past the buoys. Seeing that one of the men had a metal arm, you grinned and nudged Clint.

"Well damn, the old men are driving those?" Clint teased.

You giggled.

Clint pulled his purple T-shirt off, putting it where the rest of our stuff was sitting in the sun.

You, Clint, Rhodey, and T'Challa played in the ocean before you all laid down on the beach. You fell asleep between Clint and Rhodey.

A few hours, you woke up with a towel over your back, your face pressed into Rhodey's chest as he held you there. You smiled a little, loving how caring everyone was.

"Well don't you guys look tuckered out." Sam's teasing voice sounded from somewhere behind you.

You rolled over, seeing that Steve, Bucky, and Sam were standing there, all of them soaking wet, and looking rather pumped up.

"Did you have fun on your ski jets?" You asked as you sat up. Bucky moved to sit behind you, running his cold hand down your back. Steve and Sam both sat down in front of you, not bothering to keep their voices low.

"Yeah, it was very fun doll, I'll take you on the back of mine tomorrow." Bucky said. You leaned back into his chest, his arms wrapping around your body.

"How are you feeling?" Steve asked, scrutinizing you with his eyes. "You've been drinking plenty of water today, right? You don't want to get dizzy or faint, especially with all of the time that you're spending in the sun."

Sam chuckled, "Don't be such a dad, daddy."

Steve blushed, glaring at Sam out of the corner of his eye. "I'm just making sure our girl is alright."

"I'm alright Steve, thanks for worrying about me." You said sweetly. "T'Challa and Rhodey have been making sure I've been drinking plenty of water all day."

"Good." Steve said, looking like he was resisting sticking his tongue out at Sam.

Bucky just laughed quietly, his mouth on your neck sending vibrations through your entire body.

When the other three did wake up, you guys headed back up to the hotel. You went back to your hotel room, finding it empty, and went ahead, taking a shower, washing salt and chlorine off your body and out of your hair. Sand seemed to have found it's way into every crevice that your body had and it was a pain to get it all out. But you wouldn't have changed anything about your afternoon for anything.

You got dressed in a nice F/C dress, because you knew Tony wanted to take you guys to a fancy restaurant.

Thor was there to pick you up at the door, looking rather handsome in his Navy blue suit with a white dress shirt and matching blue tie.

Loki joined you, wearing a black suit with a white dress shirt. You ended up walking into the restaurant on either God's arms, receiving stares from basically anyone who kept up with current events and knew who Thor and Loki were.

"The blush on your cheeks makes you look stunning pet." Loki grinned as you were flushed with embarrassment.

The new nickname made your stomach turn.

The three of you were the last to join the other nine waiting members of your soulmate bond. It was custom for the five days leading up to the wedding, you were supposed to have one meal with only your soulmates and no one else.

Loki pulled out the chair for you at the circular table before you sat down, moving it in for you. You felt like a princess of sorts, and wondered how long this treatment would last. You liked it, for sure, but you hoped that you would also be able to scoot your own chair in eventually. But soulmates were usually even more attentive to their soulmates before a bonding ceremony, so that was probably what this all was.

The conversations flowed easily, starting with what you guys had done with your day, to what you guys hoped to do before the wedding, after the wedding and bonding ritual, souvenirs you were looking for, all the way to missions and politics.

As dessert came around, you were starting to feel the full affects of the active day. You pushed you plate away gently, waiting for the night to end so that you could go back upstairs and get some sleep.

Fury was the one that caught on that you were exhausted and said, "Well, we have quite a few busy days ahead of us. We should probably head off to bed now."

Everyone promptly agreed, chairs scraping back against the tiled floor as we up. Tony and Stephen accompanied me up to my room and I watched a little enviously as the two of them walked back to their hotel room, hand in hand. They'd probably have a really fun night tonight.

You sighed as you headed into your own room. You hadn't even seen your father yet. Maybe you'd go and see him tomorrow. After all, the wedding was in four days and you still hadn't chosen who would walk you down the aisle.

You took care of all the necessities before climbing into the empty bed. Y/S/N was probably with Ben at the moment, she might even stay over with him.

However, you did take comfort than in less than a week, you would be married to the people you had been waiting for most in your life, and you would never spend another night alone ever again.

⬅️➡️

[opalimagines]

Bad Influence

After your first week at school, a teacher warns you about your friendship with Rick, and you realize just how the people of Blue Valley see him. Takes place early season three.

Rick Tyler/gn!reader

Warnings: tiny reference to sickness/vomiting

Notes: There was a request for Rick keeping snacks on hand for a speedster so I've been working that into a few parts of the series :)

"(Y/N), if you could stay for a moment..."

Surprised to hear your name, you stopped in the doorway and looked back at Mr. McFarlane, who was standing near his desk. You turned to Rick and smiled. "See you later."

"Yeah, sure," he said, readjusting his bag where it hung from his shoulder. Rick gave you a nod and continued down the hall to his next class. Usually, you would walk with him since your class was on the way, but apparently Mr. McFarlane had different plans.

You moved further into the room again, playing with the loose end of your backpack strap. After sitting at a desk for 45 minutes, you were itching to at least walk a bit before having to do it again. "So, am I not doing as well in class as I thought?"

"No, no. Your work so far has been excellent." Mr. McFarlane sat on the edge of his desk with a sigh. "Myself and a few other teachers are...concerned about your friendship with Rick Harris."

"It's Tyler, not Harris." Rick had mentioned how he used to go by a different last name before he found out who his dad really was. Some of the teachers hadn't gotten with the program yet, which made you feel bad for him. You were going through something similar—having to go by Swift in public instead of Garrick—but at least you had the name of someone who loved you. While Harris was also Rick's mom's name, his uncle had soured it. "Why is there concern?"

"I know you're new to Blue Valley, but Mr. H–Tyler is not. He has a certain reputation for behavioral issues, and I would hate to see a bright student like yourself get involved with someone who could be a bad influence."

"I–"

"Excuse me?" Since school began, you'd been nothing but respectful to your teachers, just like your father taught you. At that moment, you weren't really feeling it anymore. "You obviously don't know Rick very well at all. He's a good person and a good friend, and I'm not going to stop being friends with him just because the teachers here want to be judgemental towards certain students."

"I need to go or else I'll be late to my next class. We wouldn't want Mrs. Thomas to think I'm being corrupted by a bad influence."

Without waiting for him to say anything else or dismiss you, you simply walked out, bumping right into Cameron Mahkent as he approached the door. You stared at him a moment before giving him a nervous smile. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," he said before entering the classroom.

You couldn't help the shiver up your spine knowing that he was Icicle's son. But that didn't do much to stop your annoyance at Mr. McFarlane as you quickly headed down the hallway towards your next class.

"Ugh, I think I'm out of snacks."

You continued to dig through the front pocket of your bag just in case, but you were pretty sure you'd eaten your last package of crackers when you first met Rick at The Pit Stop that evening.

"Here..." Rick opened up his backpack and took out a candy bar, handing it over to you.

"You don't have to give me your food. I can go run and find something."

"It's fine," he said, turning back to his homework. It wasn't like he actually ate that type of candy bar anyway—he was more of a nutty buddy guy—but you didn't need to know that he kept his own stash for you. After all, he'd feel pretty bad if you crashed while hanging out with him.

You smiled at him and opened the wrapper. "Thanks." As you took a bite, you flipped through the assignments in your binder to find the next unfinished one, and you rolled your eyes when you saw the subject at the top. "Mr. McFarlane. What a jerk," you mumbled.

Rick glanced at you as you pulled the packet out and started writing on it. "You never told me what he wanted to talk to you about." You were acting strange the next time he saw you afterward, but you'd avoided saying anything.

"Because it was stupid." And because you thought it would hurt him, but you suspected that it wouldn't be much of a surprise. "Apparently, you have a bad reputation and 'behavioral issues', and our teachers think you'll be a negative influence on me."

Rick put his pen down. He'd seen this coming. Beth and Courtney had both gotten the same talk. A tiny part of him hoped that things could get better with the new school year, but obviously not. "What do you think?" he asked quietly.

"I think it's complete bullshit." Rick had never heard you curse quite like that before, and he realized you must have been even more upset by this than he thought. You turned around in your seat to face him, your knees pressing into his outer thigh.

"You're one of the sweetest people I know. And you're so smart. I mean, you taught yourself chemistry so you could decode your dad's journal! That's not even mentioning how you went to fight Eclipso without your hourglass because you knew your friends needed you. You're a great friend, Rick, and I don't care what anyone else says. You're not a bad influence. The JSA is lucky to have you."

Rick smiled, willing the warmth that rushed to his cheeks to go away. "I think you're the only person that's ever called me sweet, but...thanks."

"Don't get me wrong, Beth is still the number one sweetest." You didn't turn around again, instead leaning back against the arm of the couch. "But you're very close."

He laughed softly as he went back to his work, but you didn't find yourself as motivated anymore. "You know what...." You closed your binder and shoved it into your backpack. "Do you want to take a break and grab something from Richie's? I can run us over there. Then maybe we can do some work on the hourglass."

You had taken him on runs a few times—because all of your teammates really needed to get desensitized to it—so he was mostly used to traveling at high speeds by then. The first couple of tries hadn't been so pleasant.

"Sure," he said, placing his notebook on top of his bag so he could stand.

In a blink of his eye, the two of you were at the corner where the coffee shop mural was, just out of the way enough to not be accidentally seen by anyone. And he was only a bit queasy as a result.

"Feeling okay?" you asked as you let go of him.

He took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Alright, let's go," you urged, crossing the empty street. "I would kill for a banana split right now."

Rick followed you with a little smile and a shake of his head.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Hi Wendy!! I had a birthday recently and I was wondering if I could request bday sex with Suguru Geto?

absolutely!

Happy belated birthday!

At Midnight: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.1k

tw: smut, mentions of weed

masterlist

11:57 pm.

It's 11:57 pm, and your doorbell is ringing.

Fear isn't the first thing on your mind as you drag yourself from your bed to the foyer of your home, staring at the wooden panel before you with a twinge of resentment.

"Coming, coming," you yawn when the doorbell rings once more. "I heard you the first time." The porch light flicks on and illuminates the cast of bugs now awakened by their personal sun. You want to stop and stare at the moths dancing around and celebrating the return of their beloved light, but you have to silence the doorbell ringer first.

One sleepy eye peeks out at the figure standing alone on the porch, and then - upon realizing who's there - you unlock and open the door. "Suguru," you mumble. "What're you doing here so late at night?"

Suguru - standing in your doorway with a sly smile and wearing only a t-shirt and joggers - opens his mouth to answer but then opts to step inside first. You let him in instinctively, but something about his demeanor is off. He's never come around late in the evenings just to hang out - your college days are long over, and he'd stopped the late-night rendezvous with Satoru years ago.

"I wanted to be the first to wish you a happy birthday," Geto offers, shrugging. "You know, you're turning twenty-six... and all that."

You frown as you close the door behind him. "That's it?" Your inquiry leaves Geto slightly shocked, but you brush past the black-haired man without much thought. "It's almost midnight," you grumble. "You should be in bed."

"But it's midnight on a Friday," he retorts, pulling something out from his back pocket. "And I've got two Take 5 bars I want to share with you."

"You should've just called." You stand in the kitchen, a few paces away from the jovial man, as the clock turns to 11:59 pm.

"Where's the fun in that?" You pause, sobering up finally.

"What'd you really come here for, Su?" The man lowers his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek before placing the candy bars on the breakfast bar. "I know you didn't practically ring my doorbell to death just for shits and giggles." Suguru fumbles around in his pants pocket and produces the final offering. Without words, you eye it carefully, measuring the length before sighing.

"Share it with me?" Suguru wonders, and you sigh before nodding.

"No funny business, though."

"God as my witness," he murmurs, hands in the air and the joint pinched between his forefinger and thumb. "I won't pull anything silly."

"This is something silly," you're humming against his mouth thirty minutes later. "This is funny business."

"Nah," Suguru replies, his fingers rolling his shirt over his abs and then his head. "I don't find anything funny right now."

"The last time we hooked up, it was just like this." Your head is swimming with lust, just like the last time.

"Yeah, just kiss me." The groan Geto emits is ungodly, you think as you roll over his hips. He smells like a fresh shower, some type of musk you can't place, and the faint aroma of saltwater. You can't stop kissing him, not when he smells and looks and feels this good.

Suguru allows you a few seconds of air as he pulls back, undoing the tie of his joggers and pushing them down his hips. He's apparently gone commando - no underwear in sight - and his girthy cock angles up against his stomach.

You know his curves and dips and the ridges around his skin by heart; every scar, every chewed fingernail, every hair is stored away in your memory. You're sure it's the same for your hookup, but the thought slips from your mind as he fiddles with the robe around your body and shoves a hand down your underwear.

"Shaven," he notes, raising his brows. "That's new. Seeing anyone special?"

"No," you admit a little too freely. "No one."

"That's what I thought." Suguru angles his chin at you while slipping a finger past your folds and discovering the ocean that awaits his touch. "And you're telling the truth, I see."

You pretend to squirm away, but Geto flips you around so your back is on the couch cushions, and he's above you, taking your wrists in one of his hands before trailing his thick fingers down your skin. "I'm going to give you your birthday dick tonight. Then, I'll leave. And should things remain the same," he continues. "I'll be here regularly to give you a little tune-up."

"I don't need to be maintained," you bite out.

"Your cunt says otherwise," Geto teases, slipping two fingers into you. You clench up and moan, shivering violently. "And your mouth says so, too."

"I hate you."

"You just hate that you love me." Geto's fingers disappear but are replaced with his cock. He slips into you easily, his cockhead breaching your walls for the first time in years. Suguru can't seem to fathom that he hadn't fucked you in so long, calling it "a major lapse of judgment" to let you go without "regular dick appointments."

"I don't need servicing," you retort once more as he rocks into you. But the look on his face tells you he doesn't believe you. As you're getting dicked-down on the couch, your head is fogged up like a windowpane in winter with the memories of all the amazing orgasms you'd had with Suguru.

Now...

"You're going to make me cum fast if you keep squeezing my dick like that; you know it's been years since I've had you."

"Who's fault is that?" you utter, holding your legs back for him as he drills deeper into you.

"Not mine," Suguru deflects, sinking balls-deep. You both moan simultaneously, feeling every inch of your body relax under the spell of weed and lust. "Fuck it. I'm definitely going to cum inside you."

"I've got an IUD; you're fine." Suguru grunts, "good girl," without stopping, gripping your ankles for leverage. He continues to plow into you as the minutes tick past midnight, seeping right into your birthday and reinforcing the idea that you'd be on your back for the rest of the year.

"On your back and taking my cum," Suguru mutters in your ear, the sound making your insides tremble with excitement. "New year, new you, huh?"

"New year, new us," you proclaim, much to Suguru's pleasure.

"Yeah," he whimpers, thumbing your clit and mentally drifting off into his own world of endless pleasure while he fucks you. "New year, new me, too."

[thewebcomicsreview]

Happy 10/25, the third most important religious holiday in the Homestuck Calender, and we got a new HS2 to celebrate, focusing on one of the new kids. The new kids were one of the parts of Homestuck 2 I actually liked, so let's see how the new writers handle them! With a Jailbreak reference, apparently.

Wait, hold on, deep lore: thespiansGlamor is Harry, glutinousGymnast is Tavros. RecidicivousGainsayer and gavageCunctation are names we haven't seen before. GC fits into the AGTC DNA theme of all the screen names we've seen so far (it's Terezi's acronym), and RG doesn't. They might be random NPCs, but they might also be foreshadowing. Also, neither Rose nor Kanaya appear to be on their daughter's friendlist, unless they're under the scroll bar, but maybe that's not weird.

What, uh, what did she draw the key with, HS2? That's her blood color, but she's not bleeding.

Also, who's narrating this? This has been a question in HS2 all along, but the narration here calls attention to itself more. It's much more "Homestucky" than HS2's had been.

We even have narration describing conversation, which is something HS2 has never done and HS1 restricted to carapacians.

You suggest to Vriska that you should go the other direction. Vriska says nah this is definitely where we wanna be. She says between the two of you, you've probably got enough luck to take this whole place off the map if you really wanted. You ask her what the fuck she means by that. She says you know like with your Thief of Light powers. You tell her you don't have anything like that. She says huh, weird!

Oh FFS now I have to go look up if post-Retcon Vriska met Aranea, her own dancestor who was not a Thief of Light. That's such a weird thing for Vriska to assume, that Vrissy not only has Vriska's powers but has mastered them. Also, I wonder if this narration style, besides being a Jailbreak reference, is because the new writers aren't confident writing the HS2 characters yet? Or maybe they just don't want Vriska/Vrissy dialogues because they're kind of hard to read.

I like these expressions. I also like this continuation of Candy Lore, that all the HS1 characters see Candyland as a "fake" universe and that's part of why they fucked around so much and got so fucking weird, whereas we see here that the actual Candy Natives do not see their planet as "bootleg". The fact that the HS parents don't think of their own children as entirely "real" is actually super fucked up, but I guess Yiffy's got the main right of complaint there.

I like that Vriska, who can fly, still makes Vrissy give her a boost. What a jerk!

Vriska says now THAT sounds like some shit a REAL Vriska would say! You roll your eyes and start to leave when Vriska calls out to ask if you're going without wishing her good luck. As you start to wish her luck she cuts you off and tells you to keep it, as she already has aaaaaaaall the luck she needs. You say okay dude.

I don't know if the original HS2 writers intended for the resolution of the "Vrissy kind of idolizes Vriska" subplot to end with "Vriska's so fucking Vriska that Vrissy is disillusioned within literally minutes", but it's honestly kind of funny and I like it.

JANE: From the conversation recovered from Egbert's phone, we've learned that Roxy has been... conspiring alongside the rebels for months now. Operating a lab deep within the ruins of the Troll Memorial Meteor, she and her coconspirator Calliope are preparing some kind of super weapon they've dubbed "The Plot Point". JANE: Heretofore referred to as The Point.

This feels a little like shade.

JANE: Let’s get to The Point!!

A lot like shade.

It's a little convenient to the new team that they took over right when HS2 was starting to actually go somewhere, but regardless, that was a neat page. I got a soft laugh out of it, the plot is starting to move, and there was some decent worldbuilding.

[lou-struck]

Sweet Toothed and Sorry

Beelzebub x reader

~After one too many sweets, Beel has come down with a cavity and has to be muzzled.

WC: 1.4k

a/n: One of my goals for the new year is to start using more of the prompts on my google doc. this is one of them.

Your feet crunch down on the heaps of silver and blue candy wrappers that seem to carpet the floor of the twin's room. Suddenly, the roll of garbage bags in your hand seems to not be enough for the job in front of them.

After Beelzebub had led his Fangol team to victory in the conference championship, the Avatar of Gluttony was gifted a lifetime supply of candy from one of his team's sponsors. 

But looking at the mess of wrappers scattered about the room, you have a feeling that this ‘lifetime supply’ will only last Beel a few more hours. 

You see the demon in question sat crisscrossed on his bed fiddling with the wrapper of yet another bar. When his violet gaze glances over to you, he gives you a boy smile and holds out the bar candy he had just opened.

“Mc, Would you like some candy? They are so Yummy.” the demon says as you approach.

“Sure, I’ll take one.” You say tearing into the partially opened wrapper and taking a bite of the sweet. Its fruity flavor coats your tongue and fizzles like a pop rock. The sensation makes you giggle as he looks at you adoringly.

“It’s good huh, have some more, I got loads.” He says tossing you another.

You catch it and put it in your back pocket with a grin. “Thank you, Beel, I’ll eat later.” Are you say holding up the role of the garbage bags you brought in with you?

“And I bought you these, Belphie texted me saying he needed a little extra.”

He looks around sheepishly at the mess he made before answering. “Thank you, I guess it is a bit messy in here. I’m glad he thinks of these things.” He laughs before popping another sweet into his mouth.

“Wait where is Belphie anyways?” you ask looking around for the dark-haired twin.

“I’m under here,” a muffled voice calls from underneath a large pile of wrappers. Carefully you make your way across the room to pull a few off of the demon. After a few digs, you manage to free him from his aluminum prison. “Thank you for that.”

“How did this even happen? you got buried alive.” You ask, removing a little piece of foil from his hair.

“I dunno,” he shrugs, dusting himself off “I took a nap, and the next thing I knew I was covered in candy wrappers. I didn’t want to worry you, So I just messaged you for a few bags.”

“M’sorry Belphie,” Beel says to his brother, “I didn’t realize I was covering you up.”

“It’s okay Beel, It was like an extra blanket so I didn't mind too much,” he says comfortingly. “But we should clean this up a bit so it doesn't happen again.

He looks around again at the seas of wrappers on the floor and furniture, “Yeah, that seems like a good idea.”

“I’ll help too,” you chirp ripping a trash bag off of the roll of yourself. And tossing the others to Beel.

The orange-haired demon grins from ear to ear “That’s wonderful, thank you MC. And when we are done we can eat more of the candy!”

“Beel, don’t you want to eat something else? I’m worried that all that sugar is gonna give you a cavity,” you say tossing a few more wrappers into a trash bag. 

But he only laughs, “I have never gotten a cavity before, I’m sure it’s only a human thing Mc.”

YOu bite your lip and think back at all the early videos you watched as a kid on proper dental hygiene with a shudder. 

Belphie’s gaze softens as he looks at you “Don’t worry Mc, Beel will be fine, who ever heard of a demon getting a cavity?”

~

Apparently, you were right to worry. 

Just because demons don’t usually get cavities doesn't mean they are immune to them. The copious amount of sugar Beel had eaten that day led him to develop quite a nasty one on his back molars. 

If he were a human, he could have this little problem dealt with in a matter of hours, but since he is in the Devildom, he wasn't able to get an appointment with a dentist capable of filling the hole until tomorrow morning. 

In order to prevent his brother from causing any more damage to his tooth, Lucifer had to take drastic measures to make sure that his brother doesn’t eat anything until his appointment. And Beelzebub; the Avatar of gluttony found himself hungry and wearing an enchanted muzzle that won’t break no matter how much force he uses on it.

The first couple of hours were rough, you swear your legs are still shaking from the tremors of Beel’s growling stomach. 

You know not getting to eat for a day is killing the poor demon. But you haven’t been able to visit him yet.

You have been waiting in your room for a message from Lucifer telling you that it is safe for you to go see him.

Anticipation is too much to bear, and by the time your DDD buzzes you are halfway to Beel’s room, hoping you can comfort the Hangry demon until he is able to get his tooth fixed.

The usually wide open door to the twin’s room is now sealed shut and glowing with the familiar dark hue of Lucifer's magic to keep Beezelbub inside. Since the magic is directed towards Beel, you have no problem slipping past the barrier and giving the wood a little knock.

“You can come in,” you hear a quiet voice mumble through the wood. 

Carefully you step inside scanning the room for Beel, the demon in question is seated on the side of his bed. His broad shoulder slumped and his eyes stare down at the carpet beneath him. 

The muzzle he has been forced to wear is secured tightly around his mouth and jaw looking way too tight to be comfortable.

He looks up at you with a pained look of hungry despair on his usually sunny features.

His gaze rests on you, and he tries his best to smile, but he can’t bring himself to give you his typical sweet grin. “You came to see me?” he asks sitting up a bit straighter on the bed.

“I did,” you smile coming to sit down next to him “How are you feeling Beel?”

He frowns and his stomach lets out a pathetic little growl, ”I’m hungry, I haven't eaten for this long in centuries.”

“I’m sorry Beel,” you murmur soothingly, “I know this is hard for you.”

“It’s my own fault,” he sulks, “You told me not to eat just the candy, next time I’ll make sure to eat some other things too.”

The comment has you holding back a smile as you look at the muzzle against his skin. “Does it hurt?” you ask gently reaching out and touching the cold material. 

He hangs his head low and shakes his head, “Not really, I think when I get it taken off I’ll feel a bit sore though.”

“I’m sorry, is there anything I can do? Besides sneak you food?” You say giving him a little smile.

He fidgets with his fingers and thinks for a moment trying to figure out what could help him feel better“Not eating makes me feel tired, would you sit with me and let me put my head in your lap like how Belphie does?”

Your cheeks feel flushed at his request, but when he gives you that puppy dog luck, you find it impossible to say no to him. “S-sure”

“Thank you,” he says tiredly, letting himself lay down on the mattress and letting out a shaky exhale. “This feels nice mc, you make a good pillow,” he says tiredly laying his head in your lap. “Can I stay like this for a while?” 

“Mmmhmm, you can stay like this for as long as you’d like.” you humm gently running your fingers through his orange locks.

“It’s funny,” he murmurs his full weight relaxing under your gentle touch. “When I’m with you like this I don’t feel hungry at all.”

“Really?” you giggle “You, not feeling hungry?”

He lets out a little chuckle and gazes up at you “Well, maybe a little. But I am really starting to hate this thing.”

“Why now?” you tease

“Because, I can't kiss you when I’m wearing this,” he says taking your hand. “But I promise, the first thing I do when I get this thing off is to make it up to you. Then after that, we will go and get some food.”

[scarlet-witchery]

Keeping Warm Against the Cold

Two newlyweds, a snowy day, a pile of Gallaghers, and lots of memories. for the wonderful @callivich! This is kind of a sequel to my fic, New Traditions, but you don't have to have read that to read this one. post-s10. Warning for some slight homophobic language between queer characters, but it's meant to be in good humor. (on ao3)

Mickey knocked the snow from his boots as he made his way up the front steps of the house. He exhaled deeply, his breath hanging visible in the air from the cold. Snow fell silently all around in the slow sunset, an almost eerie feeling with the streets so uncharacteristically silent. The lights from inside the house looked warm and inviting, though, and Mickey hurried through the front door.

A blast of warm air hit him in the face—thank fuck, too, since it meant someone managed to get the electric bill paid on time—and he kicked his boots off in the entryway. The lights from the tree twinkled brightly as Mickey entered the living room, and he could see the presents under the tree were all wrapped a little haphazardly. Debbie and Sandy were lying on the couch on top of one another as Mickey shrugged off his coat, and Franny played with her toys on the floor close by.

“Can’t you lesbos take it somewhere else?” Mickey said without any heat to his voice. “There’s fuckin’ kids here.” Debbie raised an eyebrow at him, but he just grinned back. She rolled her eyes, and then made a big show of leaning down and planting a huge smack of a kiss on Sandy’s lips, while his cousin grabbed at Debbie’s ass over her jeans.

“Sorry, Mick, it’s dyke central in here,” Sandy told him. “Better luck next time.”

“Plus, you and Ian still haven’t apologized for fucking on the couch last month,” said Debbie. “The brand new couch. You have a room, you know. My eyes still can’t unsee it.”

Mickey shrugged. It wasn’t his fault they’d gotten a little frisky while having the house to themselves for once. How were they supposed to know Debbie would get home from work early that day?

“Sorry, little red. Guess the shine ain’t worn off just yet.” He held up his left hand, waggling his ring finger to show off the silver wedding band.

“Gross,” she said, but the look she gave him was equal parts exasperated and fond. “Ian’s upstairs with Carl and Lip trying to rearrange the furniture, by the way.”

“They’re still not done with that shit?” The Gallagher brothers were moving Carl’s things into Liam’s room for the winter, since the RV had proven to be far too cold to keep a baby in. So Lip, Tami, and Fred would take the brothers’ old room until the weather warmed up. Mickey wasn’t thrilled about more people in the house—shit was crowded enough, especially since Sandy had apparently moved her crap into Debbie’s room and made herself at home—but at least he could always retreat to his and Ian’s room.

“Yeah, apparently little miss middle class wanted to get the vacuum out. I didn’t even know there was one here,” Sandy said, snorting with laughter. Mickey, who had never used a vacuum in his life, just shook his head and called out to Franny as he tossed her a candy bar he’d grabbed on the way out of the store.

“Thanks, uncle Mickey!” she exclaimed.

Debbie glanced over at the bag Mickey held in his hand, eyebrows shooting up and a knowing grin crossing her face. “Is that Ian’s present? The one we talked about?”

Suddenly self-conscious, Mickey gripped the plastic handles of the bag and held it close to his side. “Well, I mean—yeah. It was the only fuckin’ thing I could find at the last minute, so it’s better than nothin’, ya know?”

The look on his sister-in-law’s face told him that for all his blustering, she could see right through him. Debbie had always been good at that, after all. “Well, I think he’s gonna love it, so don’t worry too much. But you’d better go get it wrapped, get it under the tree. Christmas is just a few days away.” Mickey had gotten one or two other—private—gifts for Ian, but this one was what he could actually open on Christmas morning with the family. Even though he knew it wasn’t a big deal—they were married, for fuck’s sake, he could get his husband something sentimental for Christmas if he fuckin’ wanted to—he still felt his face heat up with a little awkwardness as Debbie gave him an excited grin. “Go on, get moving, before those idiots get done moving furniture.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fuckin’ going,” he muttered, but it only served to make Debbie and Sandy laugh. As he headed up the stairs he could hear Franny offering a piece of her chocolate to the two of them, all polite and good mannered and shit. Kid was a cute one—Debbie had managed to raise her right.

Soon enough, Mickey could hear the familiar voices of his husband and brothers-in-law, although he wasn’t able to make out exactly what they were saying. He went into his and Ian’s room, looking around for a good place to hide Ian’s gift where the sneaky asshole wouldn’t find it. Underwear drawer was out; so was under the bed. Even though they never cleaned there, it would be just like Ian to do so when Mickey specifically did not want him to look in that exact spot. He briefly considered hiding it in Debbie’s room, but he didn’t want to be held responsible for Franny breaking it. Not that he thought the little girl would do anything on purpose—she was good as gold, for all the chaos she’d been through in her short five years—but kids were clumsy and he didn’t wanna risk it.

The closet was cluttered, things thrown about haphazardly under the clothes they’d managed to hang up on the rack. His gaze fell on the gun safe he kept shoved in the back corner; it was just the right size to keep Ian’s gift hidden. Mickey went to get the key out of the sock drawer (he still wasn’t used to some of the ways his husband organized things, but if it made Ian happy, Mickey figured he could get used to it), then shoved a bunch of shit out of the way in the closet so he could pull the gun safe out. He didn’t have any wrapping paper, so he’d have to wait until the next day to make it all nice and shit. Ian was going with Carl to do some last minute shopping anyway, as long as the weather held up, so he’d have some time. The gift fit inside the box, although just barely, so Mickey locked it back up and put it back in the closet just as he heard Ian’s voice coming closer to their room. He shoved the closet door closed and scrambled onto the bed, trying to look casual, when his husband walked in and grinned at him.

“Hey, Mick,” Ian said brightly. “When’d you get back home?”

“Eh, not long. Maybe ten, fifteen minutes.” Mickey moved over to make room for Ian, who seemed all too happy to sit down next to him on the bed. He leaned over and put a hand on Mickey’s cheek so he could pull him in for a long, lingering kiss. Honestly, Mickey didn’t think he’d ever get used to it, especially the feeling of the matching silver wedding band on Ian’s ring finger against his skin. They’d only been married for two months now, but like he’d told Debbie, the shine still hadn’t worn off yet. Mickey pulled Ian in closer, a hand on his shoulder, and grinned against his lips at the feeling of warmth that radiated off his husband. Ian was like a space heater, which was great when the weather was like this, all freezing cold and snowing like nobody’s business.

“Missed you,” Ian said against Mickey’s lips, sending a thrill up Mickey’s spine. Two little words that threatened to make him melt like the biggest sap in existence. Then again, the gift in the closet was plenty enough evidence that he was nothing but whipped for Ian fuckin’ Gallagher, and he didn’t give a shit who knew it, either. So what if Lip was gonna give Mickey shit for it on Christmas morning? Ian would love it—Debbie had assured Mickey of that, which was nice of her, but he knew the moment they’d seen it in the shop that it’d been perfect—and that was all that mattered, really.

“Yeah, yeah, missed you too, Gallagher.” Mickey patted Ian’s cheek and smiled softly. “You guys finally get everything fixed up to Blondie’s liking?”

Ian rolled his eyes, but chuckled at Mickey’s nickname for Tami. “Yeah—took a while, but we made it work. Liam’s being a good sport about sharing with Carl, at least. I’m just glad Fred won’t be out in the cold.” After having lived out of a car with his family when he was younger, Mickey knew that the whole situation definitely hit a sore spot for Ian. Personally, Mickey didn’t give a fuck about Lip, but he did agree with Ian that the kid didn’t deserve to freeze. “Thought you said your errands were gonna take longer. Not that I’m complaining about you being back early.”

With a snort of laughter, Mickey snuggled back against Ian, pulling his husband’s arms around him for the warmth. “Roads are shit right now,” he explained. “Smart people are stayin’ home, keepin’ warm, that kinda thing.”

“What, are you saying you’re not smart?” Ian teased, pressing a kiss to Mickey’s jaw. Mickey decided not to dignify that with a response. Instead, he reached around and pinched Ian’s side, right in the spot he knew his husband was most ticklish. It got exactly the reaction he was hoping for—Ian jumped, not having seen it coming, but then he got back at Mickey and shoved him against the mattress with a laugh as he decided to tickle him back.

“Fuck you, Gallagher!” Mickey managed to get out, kneeing him in the stomach to try and get the upper hand. It worked well enough—Ian was caught off-guard long enough for Mickey to get him on his back and pin his hands over his head. It didn’t stop Ian from grinning like a madman, though, and he leaned up to kiss him hard; when he pushed Mickey backwards against the pillows, Mickey didn’t protest or fight, for once. He liked the way it felt when Ian pressed him into the mattress, the weight of his husband on top of him making Mickey feel safe and secure. Warmth radiated off of him in waves as Ian pulled Mickey into a spooning cuddle, nuzzling the back of his neck and pressing a light kiss there just below his hairline.

“Gotcha,” Ian murmured against Mickey’s ear.

Mickey bit his lip and tried not to grin. “Uh huh,” he said. “Ever think of the fact that I got ya right where I want ya?”

Ian shook his head, arms tightening around Mickey for a moment in a hug. “Nah,” he said. “I’ve got you , Mr. Gallagher.”

“Well, Mr. Milkovich, I guess we’re both getting what we want, then.” Mickey’s cheeks were burning with heat, and not just from Ian’s embrace. Even after all these years, Ian could still make him blush like a fucking teenager with a stupid crush. It wasn’t his fault his husband was a sappy bitch, though, and he could enjoy that now. Sometimes he had to remind himself about that, about the fact that he got to wake up next to Ian and go to sleep next to him and kiss him every day for the rest of his life. After they’d spent so long with their lives and relationships in turmoil, through breakups and mental illness and prison sentences and all the rest of it, they’d made it to this point.

Sometimes Mickey wondered how he’d gotten so lucky. Then he would shake his head and decide not to question it, before the universe decided he was too happy and figured it needed to fix that for him.

Mickey turned in Ian’s arms, albeit with some difficulty, then put his own arms over his husband’s shoulders. “Seem pretty feisty today, Red,” he mentioned casually. “Holidays really get you excited, huh?”

With a bashful glance to the side, Ian shrugged, unable to fight the smile that crossed his face. “I’m just happy,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to Mickey’s lips. “You know, technically I think this is our first Christmas together.”

“Nah,” Mickey said, frowning slightly. “We had the one—right after you had your, uh…your first crash.” He didn’t like saying depressive episode , because it always felt too clinical. “Remember? The kid’s first one—you and Svet made us watch Home Alone three times in a row, and then the stupid Muppet one.” He’d never admit it, but Mickey really did love the Muppet Christmas Carol. Svetlana hadn’t stopped singing the opening number from that one for at least a week every time Mickey walked in a room, even getting Ian and Mandy in on it. That had been the first time Mickey saw Ian smile after weeks of him being stuck in bed, and whatever else he felt about it, Mickey had been grateful to Svetlana for helping pull Ian out of the fog. Whatever else had happened, no matter how it all fell apart, it had been the first good Christmas Mickey could remember.

“...I kinda remember it,” Ian said, sounding a little lost in thought. “Mandy got Yev that Santa onesie, and then she made me help her with Christmas cookies.”

Mickey snorted. “Yeah, and you guys got more cookie batter all over the fuckin’ kitchen than you got in the bowl for the actual cookies.” They hadn’t been great—neither Mandy nor Ian were the best at baking—but the thought and effort mattered more than anything. It had taken all of them to pull Ian out of the darkness in his own mind. They hadn’t had much of a tree, just something that had fallen off the back of a truck, and half the Christmas lights they’d strung up were dead bulbs, but seeing Ian smile again after so long had been worth it. He hadn’t been a ghost for much longer after that.

“...maybe we should call Mandy for Christmas,” Ian suggested quietly. “I got a text from her a few months back, with her new number. She heard about the trial, wanted to see how I was doing.”

Mickey felt a pang in his chest at the thought of his sister. They hadn’t spoken in years, not since she’d run off to Indiana with that fucking bastard of a boyfriend who’d beaten her black and blue, but Ian had seen her a few times in the years since. Told Mickey that she’d been doing better, been living on the West Side last he heard, and had not-so-subtly hinted at maybe getting back in touch. It was a strange thought—they’d been close when they were younger, but he didn’t know how she’d feel about hearing from Mickey after all this time. “...you really think she’d wanna hear from me?”

Ian nodded. “Yeah, Mick, I do.” He’d brought up the idea of reaching out to Svetlana and the kid as well, although that was a bit more of a complicated situation itself. Mickey still had mixed feelings about Yevgeny, but part of him did miss the cobbled together family that they’d created, all those years ago in the Milkovich house. When they were happy together, all of them; when he could look at Yevgeny and Svetlana without bile rising in his throat. Things were more complicated than he’d realized at the time—he knew that now—and it probably hadn’t been much different for her, either. Last he heard she’d married some old geezer and was living it up on the North Side. He could admit it now that he’d been a piece of shit back then. Maybe now that he and Ian had fixed things between them, they could fix some other things as well.

“Yeah, well…lemme think about it.” He felt Ian press a kiss against his hair in acknowledgement, but thankfully his husband didn’t push the issue further than that. Mickey wasn’t ready for it, not just now, but he thought he might get there soon enough.

The two of them settled into a quiet, cozy silence, Ian resting his chin on top of Mickey’s head. Mickey closed his eyes and leaned back against Ian’s broad chest, enjoying the way his husband’s arms enveloped him and made him feel safe and warm. When he cracked open one eyelid he could see the snow still falling out the window, steady and unlikely to stop any time soon. Perfect weather to stay in bed, curled up with the love of his life to keep them both warm and comfortable.

The two of them eventually slid down the bed until they were lying with their heads on the same pillow, Ian snuggling his face against the back of Mickey’s neck. He couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be right now, especially with how warm and comfortable his husband was against him. Let it fuckin’ snow for all he cared. This was the best place, the best feeling in the world.

--

As he’d suspected, the next morning found the snow piled up at least six inches, much to Franny’s delight. Debbie had had to cancel her jobs for the day, and both Lip and Tami had gotten calls that their workplaces were closed from the weather as well. Chicago was used to plenty of snow, and they’d already put snow chains on their tires in anticipation, but this time it had come with a half an inch of ice according to the weatherman on TV. Better to stay home than chance ruining one of the few vehicles the family could use.

After breakfast, Liam and Franny had run upstairs to get their winter things on, since Franny had insisted that they go play together. Tami sat at the table feeding Fred while Carl was on the phone to let his boss know he’d be in late. “You and half the city,” Lip told him. “Who’s gonna commit a crime during a fuckin’ blizzard, anyway?”

“You never know what people are gonna do,” Carl said, shrugging his shoulders. Mickey silently agreed with that—he and Iggy and Colin would ride the L to the North Side in the aftermath of a bad storm sometimes, see if they could break into homes that rich fucks had left empty while they spent the winters in Florida or some bullshit. Not that he was gonna admit it to a fuckin’ cop, even one that happened to be his brother-in-law. 

“Uncle Ian! Come with me!” Franny called as she jumped down the steps two at a time, the laces of her boots coming untied. With a laugh, Debbie motioned her little girl over so she could re-tie them for Franny. Sandy scooped a big spoonful of cereal into her mouth, glancing over at the mother and daughter pair next to her. His cousin liked to talk a big game, but Mickey could tell she already had a soft spot for Franny. Her and Debbie’s relationship had been like a whirlwind, with her even moving her stuff in a week after his and Ian’s wedding, and this tended to be when Sandy started feeling trapped. Mickey knew the feeling, and he knew his cousin—he should probably talk to her at some point so she didn’t try to bolt the way she always did. Maybe in the past he’d never bothered interfering in her relationships, but he didn’t want to see Debbie hurt. And maybe he thought it’d be good for Sandy not to sabotage what seemed to be a pretty good thing, either.

“All right, Franny, I’ll come with you,” Ian agreed, tugging gently on her pigtails and making the little girl giggle. “Sandy? Debbie? You guys gonna come?”

Sandy shrugged, chewing another spoonful of cereal as she thought it over. “Sure, why not?”

“I’ll get my coat,” Ian said, then glanced over at Mickey, who was sitting in the corner and drinking his coffee. “Mick? You coming?”

Mickey shook his head. “Gotta help Debbie get some more of that Christmas shit outta the attic,” he said. Technically it wasn’t a lie—the wrapping paper was in the attic—and thank fuck Debbie backed him up.

“There’s some old Christmas dresses up there in a box, I wanna see if any of them will fit Franny. And we might have some Christmas stuff for Fred, too!” she added, looking over at Tami. “Sheila made a really cute Christmas sweater for Liam one year, I think we still have it in storage. It’d look really cute on Fred.”

Tami didn’t look entirely thrilled, but Lip nodded with a slight smile. “Yeah, I remember that one���with the fucked up looking reindeer on it, right?”

“You want to put our son in a Christmas sweater with fucked up reindeer on it?”

Lip shrugged. “His first ugly Christmas sweater. Rich people are all about that shit, aren’t they?”

As the two of them went back and forth on the subject, Mickey finished his coffee and took his mug over to the sink just as Ian passed him while pulling on his coat. He reached out and brushed his hand across Mickey’s shoulders. It was just a small touch, but it meant everything that they could have this now, openly showing affection in front of Ian’s family without anyone batting an eyelid. A far cry from the way things were when Mickey lived here the first time. When he and Ian were still an open secret, when Mickey was still terrified that anyone might find him out. But now all that happened was a sly grin from Sandy across the room, more a reminder of their conversation from the day before than anything.

Ian held his arms out and Franny came running to him; he lifted her up into the biggest bear hug he could manage and she shrieked with laughter. “Let’s go! Let’s go!” she chanted as Liam came down the stairs bundled up in a hat, coat, scarf, gloves, and boots. The three of them headed out the back door, a burst of freezing winter air making them all shiver through their sweaters in spite of the heater running full tilt.

“Okay, little red, we doing this or what?” Mickey said, and Debbie got up from the table to follow him up the steps. Once upstairs, they worked together to pull down the attic stairs, and they climbed up one at a time, Debbie turning on the light as she got to the top first.

“Wrapping paper is…right here!” she said, shoving a box towards him. He picked out a roll of green paper with a pattern of gold stars. Ian did love green, Mickey knew, so it’d be a good choice. He’d be a pretty piss-poor husband if he didn’t know Ian’s favorite color, and it wasn’t something dumb like the Santas or elves or shit he saw in the box next to the one he’d picked out. Debbie, for her part, was digging through another box until she pulled out a red sweater that looked a little big for the six-month-old Fred, but was indeed covered in fucked-up looking reindeer. “Ha! I knew we still had it,” she crowed triumphantly. “Fiona never threw away any baby clothes. I’m just glad we still had this one.”

“...those really are some fucked up deer,” Mickey said, furrowing his brow a little. “You really think Tamietti is gonna let Lip put that on her kid?”

“C’mon, Mickey, it’s Christmas,” she said with a grin. “And it’ll be hilarious to see the look on Tami’s face when Lip tells her that they’ve gotta do it. You know he will.” And yeah, Mickey knew Lip well enough by this point to agree with her on that.

“I’m gonna go get this thing wrapped before your kid gets tired and Ian’s back inside,” he said. “You done up here?”

She shook her head. “You go ahead. I’m still trying to find the Christmas dresses for Franny.”

Mickey headed back down the stairs with the wrapping paper tucked under his arm, and headed back to his and Ian’s room. As he dropped it on the floor and found the key to the gun safe, he felt a pang in his heart at the thought of Ian’s face lighting up when he saw the gift Mickey had gotten for him. It wasn’t anything special, but Debbie had assured him that Ian would love it when they’d gone looking last week and found it sitting in a back corner of the store. As he opened the gun safe, Mickey pulled out the wooden trinket, not too big but still enough that the words on it could be read.

It was shaped like a wreath—not some dumbass Christmas thing, but with the natural wood colors still showing through unpainted—and had the names and birthdays of each Gallagher sibling. He’d debated about whether to include Frank and Monica on it, but figured in the end that Ian would appreciate the inclusion of his mother, even if she was on the same level as their father for the other siblings. It was Ian’s gift, after all, so fuck what they thought. Monica was the only one with a date of death added, but her and Frank’s wedding dates—all three of them—were added beneath their names, which sat side-by-side at the top of the wreath. Under Lip’s name was Fred, and Debbie had Franny’s beneath her own. And next to Ian’s name was Mickey, his full name and date of birth burned into the wood, along with the date of their wedding underneath.

Ian’s family was the most important thing to him—Mickey knew that. He also knew that, even though it came off as a joke, Ian calling him “Mr. Gallagher” every now and again was his way of letting Mickey know that he was now, officially, part of that family as well. They’d gotten called ghetto married since Ian was seventeen and Mickey was nineteen, when Mickey was technically married to Svetlana and raising a child with her and Ian.

But now it was official, their names forever linked together both on their marriage license and in the records of the city of Chicago. Anyone could look it up and see—see that Ian and Mickey had stood up and proclaimed their love for each other, had said the words and signed the papers that told the world that they belonged together forever. And sure, maybe Ian had gotten their license framed (although it was still sitting in the back of the closet), but this would show Ian that Mickey accepted his place in Ian’s family, too. Their names burned into the wood together, with room…room for others, maybe, one day. And even if those names never came along, it’d still be all right. They had each other, and they had their family. And Mickey knew, as he clumsily wrapped the wooden wreath in the green and gold paper, that things would be all right.

[alphasunpup]

Feedist Kinktober Day 20- Bloodsucker

I sighed walking down the street, looking out for new prey. They just didn't make em like they used to before. Everyone was so focused on fitness, and diets, and fucking wheatgrass. Why did mortals love wheatgrass so much?!

Where was the decadence? The opulence? The grandiose of hedonism that only the luxury of true nobility could experience?

No, all of that was gone. No longer was the plushness and fatness of hedonism celebrated, exalted, even. It was shamed. And that was truly the greatest failure of humanity.

Now, here I was stalking the streets. Hoping some gym bunny who was a little heftier would come by so I didn't feel like I was starving.

Instead you passed. You with your brown skin glistening with sweat. You with curly hair tied up with a bandana. You were huffing and puffing walking out of the gym. I narrowed my eyes and could see you snacking on some chocolate bar. Ah, you were a first timer. First time gym member were so delectable. So easy to have slip into those old habits again.

I decide to descend from the rooftop, gently floating down. I come up from behind you. Your blood throbs in your veins, loud enough for my hearing to pick up on. I have to stop myself from licking my fangs. Apparently humans didn't do that either.

I enchant you with both words and appearance. I invite you to dinner, using a little hypnotism to convince you. I let you go back to your place to get ready and then escort you back to my place.

You are enchanted with the castle I live in. It's a bit gothic in design but very modern on the inside. I escort you to a dining hall that a few centuries would've been considered a feast hall. I have you sit at the head of the table gazing at the feast before you.

There's glazed ham, stuffed turkey, fried fish, fruits delicately coated in sugar. Puffed pastries, cakes, even modern day candy. Whatever could've been imagined on the long dining table was there.

You obliviously say you can't eat all of this. It would be too rude to eat this sumptuous feast. I wave you off and encourage you to eat. You get a whiff and by then the magic has slipped in and seeped into your bones.

You feel compelled almost to eat now. A slice of glazed honey ham, melts down your throat. Tender and juicy meat as a bit dribbles down your lip. My eyes roll back again, getting simply a scent of how delectable your blood would be after this feast. It was just a matter of patience. All good things happened to those who wait.

It was a tantalizing two hours of you eating, talking. Surprisingly out of my victims you were the one who interested me the most. The one most fit to become my little blood bank for a while. You sat in your seat, tears ruining your makeup a bit. You had gorged yourself on the meal like a proper sovereign.

Your belly pushed against your dress, pushing into the table now. Your breast sat upon your belly like books placed on a proper shelf. A belch rippled from your mouth and you moaned. You shuddered and whined a little. Your eyes hazy and glazed over from the amount of food you filled yourself up with. Sitting there so pretty and fat, like a fattened up doe.

And just like a doe you had no clue when the predator had descended onto you. I finally sunk my fangs in, tasting your blood. I could get snippets of the flavors of the feast. A heady moan fell out of my mouth as the flavors danced on my lip. A small gasp and whine come from you. I ignore them as I take my fill.

Once I feel my own belly filled, I pull away. I ask my servants to take you to the princess suite of my castle. I held a hand to my own bloated stomach, pressing against my button-up and vest. I let out a small burp and shudder.

Oh you would do, you would do nicely. You were going to be my princess of gluttony, glutting yourself on my feast cooked up by my servants. Oh you were going to get fat, obese even, and I was going to get fat off you, my princess.

[aka-indulgence]

H…. HI I MADE A BOB VELSEB DRABBLE HAHA IM WEAK (laughs nervously)

(Also click here for ao3 link)

I…. I threw my hat in the ring…… your honor i think he’s neat,,,,

This is jus. Meet-cute. In the idea that you get close to him before the fact that he’s a cannibalistic serial killer is known to the wider public.

Special thanks to @goodgollymissmeli for the meat facts /w\

(also another written work in a week? it’s a new year miracle ✨ ✨)

((CW: blood and murder, but only a little at the end. It’s not the focus of the story. Also for those of you don’t know he’s also a cannibal <u<;;;))

—-

Brr, that sure is the autumn chill.

You find yourself strolling down the quiet streets of Everytown, a bit late into the night. You’ve moved here less than a month ago, currently looking for some way of life. Other than the fact that you’re looking for a job… right now you’re hungry, and looking for some place to get an easy snack (you haven’t gotten into the swing of buying groceries. Fast food for you!).

You remember a burger joint a couple blocks down and decided to check it out.

So far you found the town quite charming, despite the rumours floating about, that it was a weird town. Lots of conspiracies, urban legends, paranormal reports. You don’t really know about all that. Maybe it can even add a lil’ spice to your life. Plus… halloween was coming up soon, and this town was famous for it! You felt like a kid again, excited for it to roll around.

Not sure about jobs yet, but you’re not too pressed about it. On account of it being a small town with weird rumors around it, there was a lot of job openings everywhere- it was apparent this town needed more workforce than it had.

(You went to the candy club a couple days back- they had some kind of halloween promo item when you visited, candy hairclips. You bought all the available colors. The guy at the counter also seemed nice- if a bit stressed. He seemed excited when you said you were looking for a job. You were seriously considering. You hoped they’d give out free candy…)

You stop your pondering when you arrive. Standing in front of the place, you smiled. ‘Boys ‘n Grills’ was a really cute name.

A bell chimed quietly when you entered, and you’re hit with the pleasant scent of fried patties. There isn’t a lot of people sitting in, maybe about… oh, three people. Only one person seemed to work here- the cook. No waiters? You thought to yourself. Everyone here seemed to be busy being… uh, tired. Of course, it was pretty late at night (your little gremlin self didn’t realize what time it was when you finally thought to grab dinner… whoops!). You’re suddenly acutely aware of how much you haven’t fit in to the crowd, awkwardly sitting down at the bar. Um.. so the cook didn’t have to bring your plate too far?

As soon as you sit, the cook turns around.

He’s a large man, hair long at the back, with stubble on his chin. His eyes were wide and looked at you with intensity that caught you off guard. When he faces you, you see a large outstretched grin on his face, like he was forcing himself to smile but went too far.

You find yourself intimidated- like you just intruded on him, even though… you’re a customer. You almost stammer and hop off your chair when he speaks.

“Well hello there. What can I do you fer, lil’ thing?”

O…. oh!

His face suddenly didn’t look quite as chilling when he spoke. He had a warm baritone, a southern drawl? And his expression looked bright instead of… foreboding. Hah- you don’t know what you’re even thinking. You’re just tired and paranoid.

“Oh hi! Yeah,” you respond too quickly, nerves getting to you. “Do you have a menu?”

The cook blinks at you for a bit, then crouches down under the bar to grab a menu. You flip through it, while he watches passively in front of you. Maybe he’s just… super attentive.

Damn… all of these look good.

“Do you have a recommendation?”

“.... Classic.” He answers, slowly. “Can’t go wrong with that.”

“Alright, then I’ll have that!”

He nods, turning around to the grill. He looks at the pre-made patties he made, looking at it for a while, then turning back to you. Then he grabs a patty and starts cooking it.

The sound, that ‘shhhh’ of patty in butter… the smell! Now you really notice how hungry you are.

“Man… that smells really good,” you mumble. “You must be an amazing cook!”

He half turns to you, smiling proudly.

“Thank you, very kind of ya to say.” He expressed, “I’m not just the cook, I’m the owner of this establishment.”

You practically make an “:o” face at him. “Oh wow, you’re running this whole thing by yourself?? Hah, I’m glad you’re also cooking because by the smell of it, it’d be a shame if others didn’t get to taste your cooking,”

He chuckles, “Now yer just flat out flatterin’ me.”

“I guess I’ll just have to see when I eat it myself!”

The meat sizzles pleasantly. You know it’s a given because he’s a cook… but you like the way how swift he moves, how he twirls his spatula before flipping the patty.

“I don’t reckon you’re from around here are you?” He asks, “Not a lot of new faces ‘round here, an’ not a lotta people ask for the menu.”

“Is it that obvious?” You giggle nervously, “Yeah, I’m new in town… sorry.”

“No no, ‘s a pleasure to meet ya.”

Soon after, he places the plate in front of you. Big, juicy burger and a side of fries.

“Excuse me,” you say awkwardly, taking a bite out of it.

Oh man… it’s good. You’re definitely coming back here.

“Name’s Bob. Bob Velseb,” he gives you his hand. You couldn’t help but notice the.. claw-like? Appearance to them. Nonetheless you shake it.

“(Y/n)!” You introduce yourself.

“So, how ya doing in this town?”

You tell him the summary. The move, cramming yourself in the truck, looking for a job. Some of the… weird characters you’ve met in town.

“A guy that… likes to imply he steals children?”

“Oh, Frank.”

“Uh. D…. does he steal children?”

“... Probably.”

“Huh?! Why hasn’t anyone stopped him???”

“Did you know… there are only two police officers in this town?”

You make a face. “Uh… huh.” Well that wasn’t very reassuring.

He smiles for a bit (still wide, less scary the longer you look at it), looking at your hair.

“Love yer hairclip.”

That surprises a shy little smile from you.

“Ah… thanks, it’s new! I got it when I arrived, actually,”

Girl… Why were you so giggly and nervous all of a sudden?!

He grins, more low-key and soft-looking. “It’s cute.”

… Ahem. You try not to hide your face and let it bounce of you. He’s talking about the hairclip, not you anyway. Nothing to get antsy about.

You talk to him a bit more, about how he runs this place all on his own (“Practically,” he adds. “From getting quality meat to getting food to the customer. Not a lot of people I can trust with the process.”

He starts drooling visibly, looking down at it and wipes it with a cloth from his pocket.

“Sorry. I get… hungry. ” He apologizes… somewhat insincerely, smile widening. He says it like it’s some sort of inside joke.

You aren’t sure why he said it like that.)

In the midst of your conversation, neither of you noticed the bell chiming or the customer that sat at the edge of the diner, in a booth, near the wall. Apparently he got annoyed enough that he shouts, startling the other customers, some of which were napping.

“Hey! When are you going to serve me, huh? You’re here to work, not chat. There’s barely anyone in this diner so don’t pretend you were busy- some of us are planning to sleep this night!”

You cringe, the automatic thought of Who told you to come so late anyway? bubbled to the surface. You say nothing, however- seeing the expression on Bob’s face.

He goes from his normal pleasant smile to frowning in an instant. His eyes go wide and a look of shocked hatred is on his face, gritting his teeth. He slowly, slooowly turns his head towards the rude customer, so slowly that you think you could hear a ‘creak’ in his neck. His mouth slowly stretches, wider than you’d seen it earlier, and a sick feeling settles in the pit of your stomach.

“Excuse me?”

Bob’s knuckles turn white from how hard he’s fisting his hand, and you see another hand reach for his kitchen utensils…

Sensing something’s boutta happen, you stand up and splutter “No no! Sorry. I was holding him up, had too much fun talking,”

You smile at them apologetically. Bob turns to you, surprised look on his face.

The customer huffs dismissively. “Then you should learn how to shut up and people do their job,”

Your look sours and your face clouds up. What a prick! Bob closes his mouth (huh, you just noticed he rarely hides his teeth), clearly still incensed, but put under better wraps. When he smiles it’s obvious to you that it isn’t like the friendly one he gave you, and his eyes are still wide. After Bob takes his order, he comes back and leans to you.

“You didn’t need ta cover for me…” He looks apologetic. “I woulda thrown him out the door… he stepped the line this time. Sorry about that,”

“Aw… that’s alright. There’s bad customers everywhere, and they take it out on people who least deserve it. At least I could shift the blame away from you. Plus… this way you’re still getting some good cash from him, right?” You rub your fingers together, showing off imaginary money.

“Plus, I’d rather not start an argument with stones.”

“...?” He tilts his head at you. “S… stones…?”

“... Cause. They’re rock-headed?” You shrug non committedly.

He stares at you, blinking like you just said the most ridiculous thing. Then he throws his head back and laughs, deep and full, his belly shaking with the force his laughter.

… :D

You didn’t come here with a plan to have a new crush! Stop it!! You think to yourself, rather helplessly.

“Hey… you’re pretty good at this,” He says, as soon as his laughs die down, rubbing a small tear off his eye. He waves his hands around vaguely, pointing to the rude customer. “Dealing with… people. And a funny lil’ thing, too.”

… ://D

“You said yer looking for a job right? Why don’t you come work as my waitress? Lord knows I need one sooner or later.”

Your eyes practically sparkle at him and his offer.

“R… really??”

“Sure, yer a charm to have around,” he closes his eyes, waving his hand in a circle, oblivious to your innocent look of admiration on your face, pink on your cheeks (Hey don’t blame you, this is one of the first really nice interaction you’ve had in this town, and you really weak to flattery!).

“Maybe there’d be,” he squints, glaring at the customer sitting behind him, “less crabby customers if there’s someone else helping me wait them out. If yer up for it.”

You’re beaming, practically a mini sun in that diner. “Yep, yes! I’d love to, thanks so much!”

————————————————

About 2 hours later.

You’re already home in your apartment, sleeping your worries away. You stayed around for a bit while Bob explained to you when to come, and how there won’t be much of a ‘training’, but that he’d personally tell you about the tasks you’d be doing.

“I don’t suppose you have an apron?”

“Um… no, but I can get one, if you need?”

Something to look forward in the near future, and he wasn’t even thinking about ‘hunting season’.

… Asshole from earlier fell asleep and had to be kicked out. By the time Bob was done closing up (and setting up), he was in front of his house. Didn’t take long to catch up.

Slow steps echo over the street. He can work with this.

The guy turns around at the sound, raising a brow. When he sees the devil smiling at him, he startles, stumbling back against the door.

“W-what, who-?”

“Did you know… ground up, human meat doesn’t taste that different to pork?”

The devil stalks closer, knife glinting as he takes it out of his belt.

“No… no wait!” The man pleads, one hand shuffling for keys in his pocket, the other rattling the doorknob.

Drool drips out the devil’s mouth, squinting at him.

The hunger.

“... Maybe you should learn to shut up and let people do their damn job.” He growls.

His screams are quickly silenced as the knife plunges into flesh and blood splatters.

[corrodedbisexual]

Peeling fruits is a love language

Steddie (+ bg Ronance) | G | fluff | ~1200w

AO3 link

A little sketch inspired by this tumblr post, because it screamed Steve Harrington to me.

🍊🍊🍊🍊🍊🍊🍊🍊🍊🍊🍊🍊🍊🍊🍊🍊🍊

Since the kids are hanging out at his place at least once a week, Steve starts buying more healthy snacks, so that they don't just stuff themselves on chips, peanuts and candy bars they bring with them all the time. He makes sure a large bowl in his living room is always filled with some fruits. Unfortunately, with things like oranges or grapefruits, turns out it results in sticky stains all over the carpet as the kids tend to rip into the skin like animals, squirting the juice everywhere (one time, Dustin even got some in Mike's eye, starting a screaming match that made Steve's ears ring).

So from now on, Steve just peels the fruits himself before passing them around. (He even keeps a small knife next to the bowl to peel the apples for El, simply because she doesn't like biting through the skin.)

Pretty soon, he starts doing the same thing for Robin when she's around, because she claims her nails are too fragile and she doesn't want to break one. Steve rolls his eyes and doesn't comment on the fact that her nails were just fine opening that soda can five minutes ago; he's rewarded with a grin as he peels a large grapefruit for her. And by proxy, for Nancy, because Robin hands one half over to her, which she accepts with a shy smile. It's something Robin does every time, Steve soon learns. Sometimes, he wonders what's going on between them, but decides not to pry. Robin will tell him when she's ready.

A week later, everyone's gathered in his living room again. The boys and Erica have their D&D game with Eddie while the rest just hang out, Nancy and Robin painting each other's nails and discussing colleges, Max and El bent over a stack of comic books and skateboarding magazines. Steve, as usual, is on fruit peeling duty, between listening to and occasionally joining various conversations around the room. At this point, he doesn't bother pretending like it annoys him. In truth, he likes keeping his hands busy. And this little ritual has become just another part of him taking care of his strange found family, even in small ways when there is no major apocalypse to deal with these days.

Or, almost everyone. He can't help but notice that Eddie's the only one who didn't ask Steve to pass him any fruits. He wonders, but there could be lots of reasons. Maybe Eddie didn't want to get his notes stained. Or he's allergic to oranges. Or he just doesn't like fruits. Come to think of it, Steve has hardly ever seen Eddie eat anything other than cup noodles or pizza.

But also, Eddie can be really strange around Steve. Sometimes, he's his usual, loud, obnoxious self, making flirty jokes and poking fun at Steve. Other times, he's almost cautious, keeping his distance, barely meeting Steve's eyes.

During a bathroom break in the middle of their game, Eddie approaches him with a teasing grin. "So what, that's a new item on the list of babysitter duties, Stevie? Peeling oranges for everyone?"

Robin grins at him from the other end of the couch. "Oh, not everyone. We're just special. Peeling fruits is Steve's new love language, apparently."

Her tone is teasing, and Steve rolls his eyes, but what she says isn't far from the truth.

And just like that, Eddie goes into distant mode. Nods, mumbles something about needing another soda and heads for the kitchen. And part of Steve wonders if maybe, Eddie doesn't know that this is something he could ask for.

He knows that he loves Eddie. He's still not sure what kind of love it is, it's certainly different from his love for Robin, or Nancy these days, or the kids. But he knows he does. Because of something the man told him himself once, actually, about what a sign of true love is; and Steve knows that if needed, he'd walk into the Upside Down and bite through a thousand more bats for any of the people in this room without a moment's hesitation. Any of them. But the gates are all closed, and grand gestures like that are no longer necessary, so he just makes sure everyone he loves is safe, and fed, and happy, occasional mother hen jokes be damned. And it doesn't sit right with him that Eddie isn't aware that includes him.

So he decides to fix it. Later that night, when everyone's gathering their stuff to head home, arguing loudly over who's going to get a lift from Nancy instead of taking their bikes, Steve asks Eddie to stay another while, have a few beers, watch a movie. And Eddie agrees, as easily as always, even if that strange, distant look is not yet completely gone from his eyes. As he puts on some horror flick, Steve tries not to dwell on the fact that he doesn't actually remember Eddie ever saying "no" to him.

Ten minutes or so into the movie (that looks terrible so far, but of course Eddie insists it's an absolute masterpiece), Steve reaches for the fruit bowl, grabs the final orange from it. Looks over at Eddie, who averts his eyes immediately towards the TV. Aiming for a casual tone, Steve holds it up to him.

"Hey, Eddie. You want one?"

Eddie's eyes are back on him, watching him with an unreadable expression for a moment. "Uh. Yeah, sure." Eddie reaches out, but Steve doesn't let him take the fruit, instead bringing it into his lap and quickly working on removing the skin. He doesn't know why his heart suddenly beats faster.

When he finally looks up, handing the now peeled fruit to Eddie, he's met with the most brilliant smile. Slowly, Eddie takes it, spins it around in his hands a few times, biting his lip, as if lost in thought. And then, he splits the orange in half and wordlessly holds one half of it out for Steve.

Suddenly, with that bizzarre silent exchange, everything clicks for Steve. Like puzzle pieces all coming together. There's the puzzle of Robin and Nancy he's pretty sure he's figured out now. But more importantly, the puzzle that's him and Eddie. His own uneven heartbeat and Eddie's sudden mood swings. His eyes always getting drawn to Eddie like a magnet, following him around the room. Eddie's smiles for him, always soft even when he's teasing. His 'Stevie', like warm rays of spring sunshine against Steve's skin.

Steve only waits long enough for both of them to finish eating their orange halves before taking a leap of faith, shuffling closer and reaching for Eddie's hand. Eddie stares at their joined hands with a look of disbelief, then chuckles quietly and looks up, his smile almost blinding up close.

Their first kiss tastes like oranges, their lips a little sticky, and so are probably their hands buried in each other's hair, but it's not like either of them cares.

(Days later, the first time they move on from couch makeouts to his bedroom, the first time Steve takes the shirt off of a slightly trembling Eddie, he can't help himself. "You know, if peeling fruits is a love language, you're totally my new favorite fruit." It's stupid and corny, but it makes them both laugh so hard neither of them is nervous anymore after that.)

[zukkaoru]

i am. love you. tehe.

oda & naomi + "you look very manly in this photo"

sigma & margaret + "that's it. i'm leaving"

fyodor & chuuya + "Because you’re not to step within a thousand feet of a Cinnabon, [name]"

lucy & gin + "i'm gonna kick your... HEAD"

kyouka & jun'ichirou + "umm, we just exploded a bus!"

ranpo & elise + "sit down, shut up, and i'll buy you a candy bar"

ango & chief taneda + "professor you are bald as hell"

hiiii beloved <333 umm okay obviously the oda & naomi one is beast au. and the fyodor and chuuya one is a no abilities au?? no other context though. also the gin & lucy one kind changed to gin/lucy bc uhhhh i'm a lesbian. thank u

“You look very manly in this photo,” Naomi muses. Oda looks up to find her holding a photograph of Kunikida, taken from a security camera during his most recent mission. Kunikida, of course, ignores her. “Let me see,” Oda says. Naomi hands him the picture and he looks it over before nodding in agreement, just to see if he can draw out a better reaction. “I agree, Naomi-chan. It’s a good photo—very manly. Only thing I’d change is the glasses. He could go for something sexier.” Naomi snorts. Kunikida’s brow furrows. “My glasses are perfectly fine. I would appreciate it if you would stop gossiping about me while I am right here, trying to work.” Naomi rolls her eyes, and Oda bites back a snicker as he passes the picture back over.

-

“That’s it.” Margaret slams her hands on the table, standing up. “I’m leaving!”

As she goes, Sigma eyes the spread of cards warily. There’s no way this wasn’t stacked, though they’d assured Lucy wasn’t the one dealing, since she likes showing off her new illegal skills whenever possible. Apparently she isn’t the only (former) Guild member who can stack a deck of cards.

Sigma sighs. They stand too, heading to find Margaret. They tune out the background noise of Lucy yelling at Mark and John while Louisa tries to calm her down.

When they find Margaret, she’s standing with her back against the wall, arms folded over her chest. She huffs. “I know they’re cheating so I’ll lose.”

Sigma purses their lips. “You’re probably right. …But they aren’t the only ones who know how to cheat at card games. …I could help you get a little revenge?”

Slowly, a smile spreads across Margaret’s face.

-

Chuuya grabs Fyodor by the back of his jacket, preventing him from taking even one more step.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Chuuya sighs. “You are not to step within one thousand feet of a Cinnabon. Your partners were very specific. If I have to babysit you, I don’t want you getting high off cinnamon or whatever the hell you did to make them give me that warning.” They begin walking in the opposite direction of the mall, dragging Fyodor behind them. They don’t know how they let Dazai talk them into agreeing to this.

“I have done no such thing.”

“Full offense, but I don’t believe you. Now pick up your feet or we’re going to be late. Sigma is waiting for us and she deals with enough shit just having to be friends with you.”

-

“I’m gonna kick your…HEAD!” Lucy exclaims.

Gin raises their eyebrows, clearly calling into question Lucy’s ability to follow through with her threat. Which only serves to fan the flame of anger burning bright in Lucy’s chest. Stupid Gin and their stupid piercing gaze and perfect looks and nimble fingers and Lucy hates that they probably could kick her head, if they tried. It’s infuriating. Gin is infuriating.

“I could do it!” Lucy argues. “You’re not that tall! I could get my leg all the way up there! Just watch!”

Lucy kicks, and while she does come close, Gin easily evades her foot. They dodge effortlessly, and in one swift movement, they’ve got Lucy pinned against the wall with one arm against her throat. Their eyes seem to stare into Lucy’s soul, grey like swirling storm clouds.

Lucy swallows thickly, her gaze dropping to where Gin’s mouth is covered by their mask.

Shit.

-

“Um…” Jun’ichirou swallows nervously. “We just exploded a bus.”

“Yes,” Kyouka agrees. Her tone is far too calm for their current situation. The remains of said bus are still smoldering before them, and they’re lucky everyone else managed to escape in time.

“After being attacked by demon triplet ability users.”

“Yes,” Kyouka repeats. She sheaths her knife.

Jun’ichirou stares hopelessly at the smoke wafting into the sky. He’s already imagining the damage report he’s going to have to complete once this case is wrapped up, and they’ve barely even started it. The ability users got away, and Jun’ichirou has no idea which direction they even escaped in, and when he and Kyouka were assigned this case, they weren’t even aware there were ability users involved!

He sighs. It’s going to be a long day.

-

“Sit down and shut up!” Ranpo snaps. They are at the end of their rope, and if Elise doesn’t chill out in the next two seconds, he’s going to attempt murder. “If you do, I’ll buy you a candy bar.”

Elise stops her singing and dancing immediately. “Really?”

“Yes! Just— Stop being so annoying!”

Elise sits down obediently. “Okay. I want my candy bar now.”

“I can’t go buy it while I’m babysitting.”

She glares at him for a moment, and then starts singing again, even louder than last time. It hurts Ranpo’s ears and his head and God why is she like this?! If Mori can make her behave however he wants, why is she literally the worst person on earth?!

“FINE!” Ranpo shouts. He marches over to where his stash of snacks is, grabs the first candy bar he sees, and throws it at Elise. “Now be quiet!”

Elise grins smugly as she begins unwrapping the candy.

-

“Professor,” Ango says, the word slurring with sleep as it falls from his lips. Taneda looks over at him, unsurprised to see he’s nearly started dozing at his desk. What does surprise him, however, is that Ango meets his gaze and finishes his sentence with, “You are…bald as hell.”

“What?”

But Ango just hums absentmindedly before returning to his work. As if he’s said nothing out of the ordinary.

Taneda lifts a hand to his head, unsure if the comment should make him self-conscious or just concerned for Ango’s well-being. It’s certainly not something he would have said if he were in a sound state of mind, but a sleep-deprived Ango is often one who is unable to control his brain-to-mouth filter.

So, Taneda simply sighs and prepares himself for the battle that is convincing Ango to go home and rest.

[milksnake-tea]

✩ CHAPTER SUMMARY : Firefly and Silver Wolf return from Penacony, bringing souvenirs of all kinds alongside them.

✩ SERIES SYNOPSIS : Following the catastrophe of the Charmony Festival, rather than in one of Penacony's hospitals or prisons, Sunday awakens right in the base of one of the most notorious criminals in the galaxies. With nowhere else to go, he's left to follow you, the Stellaron Hunters' medic, in his attempts to become accustomed to his new life.

✩ WORD COUNT : 6.3k

✩ TAGLIST : @vynicity , @vxnuslogy, @https-mika, @greyrain23, @red-ninja15, @arienic , @immahuman , @sund4ykisser , @mysteriaqueen , @kiopanxp , @isa-l0v3r , @hesper-houkai-kat , @gamekillera , @nayukiyukihira , @randomidk-123 , @universetrash , @forevernyeong , @thedepartedcryptid , @heyhazelnut101 , @1000-leaves , @lowkeyren , @zhayur , @jellofishuu , @kascar-chronicle , @azaleaflowerr , @neigee , @fallintothechasm , @veritusratio , @astolary , @xphantasmagoriax , @semi-orangeapple , @ezra1yn , @xynthevoid , @apinu , @crysangria , @shenwi , @louchive , @mave-in , @mutiachan , @meerpea , @tetrxctys , @emiken-070907 ( send me an ask off anon if you want to be added !! remember to specify that it is for this series )

✩ ADDITIONAL NOTES : mentions of alcoholism in this chapter !! also check out the tags, i've added something that needs to be looked at but tldr the reader will be dealing with themes of alcoholism, addiction, escapism, and survivor's guilt. it'll be tackled in later chapters, but just putting that as a warning now! sunday's pfp art is by @/thotep

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Weeks have passed since Sunday had first arrived at the Delphi.

With Silver Wolf and Firefly busy with their mission on Penacony, life is relatively mundane. If you don’t have a script to fulfill, then Elio lets you run free to do whatever your heart desires - ironic, considering the nature of your work.

Every Hunter has their own way of passing the time between scripts. Kafka often goes shopping for fancy dresses or yet another velvet coat to add to her increasing collection of them. Silver Wolf, on the other hand, shrinks away from the real world and into the comfort of her room to game - you know this because her room’s right next to yours, so you can hear whether or not she wins or loses.

Firefly never spends too long on the Delphi; rather, she takes up her suit and flies off to visit nearby planets, eager to experience their wonders as any normal tourist would. As for Blade, he sulks off into the training rooms, either sharpening his sword or perfecting his technique.

But what about you? What do you do in these torturously boring times? What is your way of keeping yourself entertained?

Drinking. It’s drinking.

Because apparently making candy-flavored drugs isn’t bad enough.

Simple piano played in the background of the Delphi’s bar, where it came from you’ve long given up on trying to figure out. Golden lights hanging from the ceiling clash against chestnut wood, filling the bar with a hazy, warm color.

You’re alone in the bar, sitting laxly in one of the many stools that line the countertop. Lazily, you spin a jigger in your hands, absentmindedly adding and shaking and tossing until you’re left with a clear, peach-tinted cocktail topped with creamy white foam and mint leaves.

The drink is known as a White Sand, a cocktail you discovered when visiting a tropical planet known for its tourism. You’re still new to mixology, preferring to just drink wine straight from the bottle, but you can’t deny that trying out different combinations of recipes, some delicious and others diabolical, is a surprisingly great way of passing the time.

Just as you’re about to take a sip of your drink, your phone dings. You’re tempted to ignore it, but after the second, third, and consequential pings, you begrudgingly take it out with a sigh.

You roll your eyes a bit despite the smile on your face. Drinking your cocktail with a little more spite this time, you type out a response.

Spinning around on the stool, you uncross your legs and, taking your drink with you, make your way to the training room. Thankfully, the walk isn’t too long - just an elevator ride down and after a few minutes of walking through the facilities, you’ve arrived.

You take a deep breath as you come to the doors of the training rooms, mentally preparing yourself for what was to come. Just to be safe, you summon your sword in your dominant hand and hold your cocktail in the other.

Your sword isn’t anything impressive when compared to the others’ - it isn’t as flashy as Silver Wolf’s or Firefly’s, nor is it as intimidating as Blade’s. It supports a simple yet elegant design, and it’s thin, tapering to a sharp point. 

But what makes it unique are the bright veins that run through it, filled with a deadly poison that you’ve personally curated through testing and researching natural poisons found across the stellar seas. Just one graze or prick of your blade, and your victim becomes paralyzed within seconds, dead with a few more.

Normally, you wouldn’t bring it out - you prefer your rifle and bayonet over your sword - but what lay behind these doors required a little more agility than what could be accomplished with one hand and a rifle.

With a sigh, you step through the doors and brace for impact.

“[Name]-?” Sunday looks behind him as you enter, only to curse and bring up his rapier as Blade lunges at him once more. It’s a fatal mistake, being distracted in the middle of a fight, and Sunday learns this the hard way when he’s caught off balance (rapiers are NOT good at blocking, especially if you’re a beginner) and Blade mercilessly drives a kick into his stomach.

You narrowly jump out of the way as Sunday flies past you and into the wall with a crash.

“Don’t let your focus wander.” Blade barely finishes speaking before he lunges at Sunday again with a swing of his broken blade.

See, you’re technically supposed to break up the fight and tell them of Firefly’s message. Technically.

But you kind of want to see where this goes.

And so you lean back against the wall, swirling your drink idly and watch the show without lifting a finger to help Sunday.

Sunday manages to dodge Blade’s attack, which is better than when you saw him a few weeks ago. Last you saw him, he was getting beat left and right both physically and mentally (Blade does not know what sugarcoating is). 

See, as of late, Blade’s taken up a new hobby to entertain himself - that being training the newbie in the ways of combat. While it’s arguably true that Blade is the best suited for this (Kafka is Kafka, Silver Wolf can’t be bothered, Firefly doesn’t know what’s within a normal person’s capabilities, and you would treat it like a chore), his methods are… less than ideal.

Basically, he teaches you the basics for the first two weeks, and then makes you fight to the death against him until you get better not because you want to, but because you have to if you want to live.

You know this, because you went through this too. So did Silver Wolf. Firefly didn’t have to because one, she was already a capable warrior and two, she’s Blade’s senior, as weird as it sounds.

For the most part, Sunday seems to be doing relatively well, being able to parry, dodge, and attack the best he can. Obviously, he’s unable to land a hit on Blade (it would be impressive if he did), but being able to hold his own is more than enough.

The rapier he wields is a gift from his master. Although Blade can no longer craft weapons as he used to, his eye is still as sharp as ever. The rapier itself is an elegant thing, sporting a silver handle with a sapphire embedded near the handguard. It still holds considerable weight, but is light enough so that Sunday can wield it despite not having any prior training.

Every so often, the Halovian’s halo glows, indicating a mental attack of some kind. But the glow is faint, meaning that it isn’t anything that could seriously debilitate Blade, who is especially sensitive to attacks regarding the mind.

You smile to yourself. Always thinking of others, wasn’t he?

The mental attack creates only a momentary stagger in Blade’s movements, a brief falter, but Sunday seizes the chance. His wings, which have gotten stronger with every visit to your office, flare out in a cape of night. He still can’t fly, but they’re strong enough to propel him out of Blade’s range.

His wings tuck, and he strikes his rapier again, but this time it isn’t with the intent of piercing Blade with his sword. Instead, his halo glows stronger, and small staffs of music shoot like miniature missiles at Blade.

Of course, Blade slashes through each music note easily. Even as Sunday conducts his personal choir with his rapier as his baton, there’s still a slight tremble in his hand, still not fully used to the weight of the rapier.

Not only that, you notice, the staffs aren’t exactly strong either. They waver, and they’re thin, as if one pull of your finger could break them into ribbons.

Your phone dings again, reminding you of why you were here in the first place.

Right. You’re supposed to stop them. How many minutes has it been? At least two.

You gulp down the rest of your cocktail (there wasn’t much left), relishing the taste for just a moment before you lunge and intercept Blade’s attack. Your sword meets Blade’s in a flurry of sparks. You grunt, planting your feet on the ground and push off, throwing Blade off of you and forcing him to skid back.

Blade is less than pleased by your interruption despite expecting it. You can see that he’s half a mind to turn the training onto you. Before he can try anything, you point your sword at him, stopping him with a warning look.

“Sorry, but class is going to have to end early today.” You twirl your sword mindlessly in your hand before summoning it back into your inventory. “The girls are coming back from Penacony, and Firefly wants us in the living room in ten. And before you ask, if I have to go, so do you.”

The last part is directed at Blade, who grumbles in response.

“Fine.”

His sword disappears from his hands as he straightens. You almost don’t catch Sunday sighing in relief behind you. A laugh bubbles in your chest as you turn to him, crossing your arms.

“Old man’s been hard on you, hasn’t he?” 

Sunday sighs, rolling back his shoulders as his rapier dissolves into nothing. 

“I should be used to it by now,” he admits, “but Blade’s teaching style is more erratic than what I’m used to.”

“You’re getting better, though. At least you can actually hold the rapier now.”

Sunday chuckles. “That’s true. It doesn’t feel as heavy anymore; I suppose I’ve gotten stronger.”

“You sure have.” You look him up and down.

He’s wearing a long-sleeve compression shirt and simple joggers so as not to ruin his other clothes with the sweat and tear that comes with Blade’s training sessions. His body is still relatively slender like it was when he first came to the base, but you can see hints of his labor beginning to bear its fruits. His arms are definitely more toned, and while he still predominantly wears gloves, you spy a callus on one of his right hand’s forefingers.

Ever since he’d first stretched his wings, it was as if a light had returned to his eyes. He is still reserved, still quiet to a degree, but his presence has become brighter, in a sense. You see it in the tiniest changes - the lift of his eyes, the genuine crinkle in his smile, the gradual relaxation of his shoulders.

In your opinion, he’s never looked better.

Then again, your only visuals of him prior to now were when he was at his lowest, so maybe it wasn’t a good comparison.

You realize you’ve been staring for longer than what’s socially acceptable. Meeting Sunday’s confused smile, you playfully stick your tongue out before waving him off.

“Don’t just stand there. Go wash up and change, you smell.”

Sunday blinks. “I do?”

The genuine worry in his voice almost makes you feel bad. In an effort to make him feel better, you pat his head in two heavy movements, earning a high-pitched squeak with each pat.

“I’m just messing with you,” you tease, ruffling his feather-like hair before finally releasing him. Sunday huffs, slightly puffing out his cheeks as he immediately starts fixing his hair. He reminds you of a baby bird.

Resummoning your wine glass, which you had put away before intervening in the spar, you pull out a vintage wine bottle from nowhere and pour out some red wine. Sunday wrinkles his nose.

“Drinking again, I see,” he sighs. “Isn’t it a bit early for that?”

“For you, it is,” you say, throwing the wine bottle back into your inventory. “I, however, am not like you.”

“You’re destroying your liver.”

“My liver can handle it. Ask Blade, he knows. Isn’t that right, Blade?”

“Don’t bring me into this,” mutters Blade, in the middle of changing back into his normal clothes. You shrug.

“See? He didn’t deny it.”

Sunday crosses his arms. “He didn’t confirm it either. [Name], I cannot in good faith let you go on about this self-destructive path-”

“And on that note, I should get going,” you cut him off, pointedly ignoring the look he gives you. But before Sunday can start up his thirty-minute lecture, you’re already turning your heel and walking off with a cheeky wave. “See you up top!”

“Hey-!” Sunday shakes his head as you saunter out the doors, pressing a hand to his forehead. He already feels a migraine forming. “What am I going to do with them…”

Blade hums sympathetically, wordlessly offering Sunday a bottle of water and a towel, which he accepts gratefully.

“Don’t bother,” says Blade, looking at the doors where you’ve just left through. “They’ve always been like that. Trying to reason with them is fruitless.”

Sunday turns his head slightly to glance at Blade, his brow creased with worry.

“Still, this habit of theirs…”

Blade sighs. “It may look bad to you, but trust me. This is better than what they were doing before. At least with alcohol, their body can recover quickly.”

“What do you mean by that?” Sunday turns fully to face the other Hunter. “Surely, alcoholism can’t be a better alternative.”

For a long, heavy moment, Blade merely stares at him silently, waiting for him to come to his own conclusion. The air turns suffocating the longer the silence drags on, but Sunday endures. He meets Blade’s gaze calmly, and waits.

It isn’t too long before Blade relents. Maybe it’s because they have an appointment soon, or maybe he doesn’t feel like playing mind games with Sunday - or both.

“Have you ever seen them get alcohol poisoning?” he finally says, a little breath to his voice like a sigh.

Sunday blinks, caught off guard by the question. “No, but-”

“There’s your answer.” Blade begins to walk off. Before he disappears, he glances back. “Save your concern. Don’t pry where you aren’t welcome.”

The doors slide shut, leaving Sunday alone with the echo of the Hunter’s words. He squeezes the bottle tightly.

Don’t concern yourself, huh?

How could he not? In Penacony, his ears were meant for hearing the woes of his kin, and his heart forever cut to bleed for them. Sympathy is carved into his skin; it was second nature to him already.

But he remembers that moment in your office, the sudden coldness that came with an attempt of sympathy. And he remembers that he isn’t on Penacony anymore.

His eyes shut, a sigh escaping him. His wings tremble restlessly, referencing his thoughts.

Sunday opens one dark wing, and flaps it.

It’s frustrating, constantly being told to sit still and mind his own business. You’ve already helped him so much, but whenever he tries to do something for you, whether it be small, such as helping out with a chore or something more serious like this, he’s always shut down.

He feels useless, like a leech or a freeloader. All he’s done is take and take and take, unable to give.

He buries his face in the towel Blade gave him with a groan.

He hates it.

He should be doing more - he should be more.

“Still here, I see.”

Sunday flinches. He looks around wildly for the source of the voice, but he sees no one. Was he already beginning to hallucinate? He shouldn’t be, he was sleeping enough thanks to your medicine, but maybe four hours a night still wasn’t enough-

“No need to panic. I’m down here.”

Sitting at the foot of the doors is a familiar black cat with familiarly unnatural blue eyes.

Sunday relaxes. “Ah, Elio.”

Out of respect, he bows to his leader. The Destiny of Slave tilts his head, soundlessly leaping onto a nearby bench. 

Sunday tries his best not to be unnerved by his gaze, but he can’t help it. Despite being on the Delphi for a little more than a month now, he’s rarely seen Elio, and as such hasn’t gotten used to his piercing eyes.

A small surprised sound leaves him as Elio jumps onto his shoulder, perching himself on him snugly. The seer’s back brushes against his wings as he readjusts himself.

“What addles your mind?” Elio asks. Sunday wants to lean away from him, but it’s impossible with the seer on his shoulder. “Firefly will be arriving in two system minutes. You will be late.”

Right, the meeting- meeting. 

Sunday’s mind jumps at the word, dragged back into its own habits. Late, late- he can’t be late, that is unbecoming of someone like him, shouldn’t he know better? Instead he wasted time by asking useless questions- Stop thinking, stop thinking, you’re taking up valuable minutes- Get a move on, move, or they’ll hate you, they’ll take it as a disrespect, they’ll never accept you as their own-

“That’s enough.” 

A paw baps the side of his head gently, snapping Sunday out of his thoughts. 

Dull pain pricks at his palms. With a start, he realizes that his nails are digging into them, as they always do whenever his mind starts racing. He quickly relaxes his hands with a sigh.

Elio hums knowingly.

“You think too much,” says the seer. He stretches on Sunday’s shoulder, letting out a small meow as he does. He looks and acts so much like a real cat, Sunday has to remind himself not to pet him.

“I apologize,” is Sunday’s automatic response. Internally, he winces. You’d scold him if you heard him.

Elio shakes his head.

“The others won’t ostracize you,” he says matter-of-factly, in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

“Is that a part of your prophecy?” Sunday asks, eyes glittering with dull mirth.

“Perhaps. It is also their nature. One doesn’t need to be a seer to know that.”

The seer lashes his tail. Sunday doesn’t know how to feel about being comforted by a cat, but knowing who Elio is, and the absolute certainty behind his words manages to quiet the noise in his mind enough to let him think clearly.

“I… I see. Thank you,” he says sheepishly. Elio shrugs.

“It’s nothing,” he assures. “If you need further consolation, you can pet me.”

Somewhere a record screeches to a halt. Sunday stares blankly at Elio, who stares back innocently as if he hasn’t said anything wrong.

“Absolutely not,” Sunday says flatly, with half a mind to shove the seer off just to see what would happen. “You’re a grown man.”

Elio’s eyes gleam. “Am I? Or am I a cat who has learned to disguise as human?”

Sunday doesn’t bother entertaining him. Rolling his eyes with an amused sigh, he begrudgingly gives Elio a small scratch on the chin.

“Happy now?”

Elio closes his eyes, the beginnings of a purr rumbling in his chest. The vibrations are soothing against Sunday’s skin, like how white noise aids one in sleeping. One of Elio's ears flicks, and Sunday has to bite down a smile.

“This isn’t for my happiness,” Elio says despite clearly enjoying the scratch. He blinks his eyes open, forcing Sunday to look into the sky. “You are feeling better.”

The seer tilts his head, looking past Sunday in amusement. Before Sunday asks what exactly it is he’s looking at, he hears a distant flutter, and his wings brush against fur. His face flushes.

Elio chuckles, his tail flicking back and forth. “Come on now, the others are waiting.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, ears burning, Sunday nods.

He really needed to fix this wing problem of his.

—

Three floors up, you wait with Kafka in the main living room. 

The Spirit Whisper user has only arrived recently, having sped back to the Delphi from whatever corner of the universe she was shopping at. Her recent escapade shows on her outfit, a brand new velvet coat (this one a dark red) draped over her shoulders.

Her gloved fingers fly expertly across the neck of a violin, a mahogany bow in her other hand as she maneuvers the violin into an eerie melody. Her shoulders sway as she does, her pupiless eyes fluttering closed every so often with the music.

“They’re here,” you announce, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in the plush sofa chair in which you sit. Your eyes are focused on your phone, which tracks Firefly’s and Silver Wolf’s location on an app the latter had designed herself.

Kafka hums, her deft hands never stilling. “Is that right?”

There’s a creak as the door opens behind and Blade walks in. With a simple nod to both you and Kafka, he slinks off to his corner of the room and summons his sword to hug against his chest. Kafka smiles demurely.

“Say,” she says, finally setting down the violin, “Bladie, how’s Birdie’s training going?”

Blade shifts the sword, looking up. “He needs to work on his footwork.”

Kafka hums. “Do you think he’s ready for a mission?”

“He can hold his own,” Blade admits, “but I wonder if he has the heart to kill. He could easily incapacitate me with his attacks on the mind, and yet he chooses not to.”

“It’s because he cares,” you jump into the conversation, setting your phone aside. “He may not act like it, but he’s rather soft-hearted. He probably doesn’t want to hurt you.”

Blade scoffs. “That kind of foolish sympathy will only debilitate him on the battlefield.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” says Kafka. “Who knows? Maybe Birdie will surprise us. One doesn’t nearly become an Aeon without some kind of moral ambiguity.”

Blade doesn’t look convinced, but he was never one to argue. He merely shrugs with a grunt, accepting whatever Kafka decides is the truth.

It isn’t like the conversation is set to continue either, as soon a portal made up of multicolored pixels spawns in the middle of the living room, and out walks Firefly, shopping bags hanging from all over her arms. Silver Wolf follows soon after, closing the portal behind her with a pop of her bubblegum.

“Welcome back,” Kafka greets, leaning on top of the backrest of your sofa chair. “Had fun at Penacony?”

“Fun is… one way of putting it,” Firefly chuckles bashfully. “It was definitely eventful. Speaking of which,”

She looks around the room for a certain someone.

“Where’s Sunday?”

“Probably changing,” you say, standing up from your chair. “He was in the middle of getting beat by Blade when I told him.”

“Ah, I see…” A small, nervous laugh leaves her. She quickly brightens, however, once you go in for a one-armed hug, the other hand still holding your wine glass. “That’s okay. His gift can wait. Here, let me give your guys’s.”

She rummages around in her shopping bag before pulling out what looks to be a large bubble, purples and blues glistening on its surface with the occasional person or place flashing.

“Here’s yours, [Name].”

You stare at it, dumbfounded. “A bubble?”

“It’s a dream bubble,” Firefly clarifies, gently placing it above your open palm. “Basically, they’re little memories or stories stored in a bubble - like a movie! There was this one vendor in Oti Mall who sold them, and, well… When I saw it, I knew I had to get it for you.”

Her shoulders jump, as if remembering something.

“Oh, and… Maybe it’s best if you don’t open it here.”

Raising a brow, you tear your eyes away from the strange bubble. “Why is that?”

Firefly shifts. “Well… you’ll know.”

That doesn’t sound reassuring. “Now I’m getting worried. Is there a trigger warning, or..?”

Firefly waves her hands hastily. “No, no, nothing like that! It’s just that, well… dream bubbles leave you unconscious, so…”

“Ah.” You blink. “That makes a lot more sense.”

“That wasn’t all I got you, though,” Firefly adds. She takes the shopping bag that she’d pulled the dream bubble from and hands it to you. “I know you like collecting drinks, so…”

At her words, you immediately forget about the dream bubble. Throwing it away somewhere, you eagerly reach into the bag and feel the familiar touch of cold glass. Your eyes gleam with excitement.

The bottle you pull out is tall and fat towards the bottom, the glass tinted a dark caramel while what seems to be liquid amber sloshes inside. Stamped on the front of the hefty bottle is a green and orange logo that tells you just exactly what this beverage was.

“SoulGlad, is it?” you read aloud, holding the bottle up to the light. “So this is the famous ‘beverage of dreams’.”

“I know you prefer wine,” says Firefly, rubbing the back of her neck, “but Siobhan recommended this - also it’s a staple of Penacony, so I figured, why not try that wasn’t alcohol for once?”

You pointedly ignore that last part. “Siobhan?”

“She’s a bartender I met on Penacony! Speaking of which, Blade,”-Firefly fishes out another shopping bag, this one smaller and darker in color- “Siobhan said that this drink is good for people like you. It’ll make you feel a little better.”

Blade raises a brow. He unhands his sword only for a moment to accept the bag. Briefly peeking at whatever’s inside, he raises a brow and closes the bag, nodding his thanks to Firefly.

The biggest bag turns out to be Kafka’s, as Silver Wolf had already received her souvenir prior to arriving on the Delphi. 

The hacker’s gift currently sits on her head as she plays yet another game in the chair that used to be your. The holographic Origami Bird bears a striking resemblance to her, occasionally cocking its head and chirping every so often, the three large feathers on its head swaying with each movement.

“Wow~” Despite having just gotten a new coat, Kafka’s perfectly painted lips curve into a delighted smile at the sight of black and magenta velvet and bronze buttons. “Did you get this specially tailored?”

Firefly tucks a white hair behind her head, her cheeks flushed with joy. “Yes, I did. It was only a small extra fee, so I didn’t mind.”

“How thoughtful.” Kafka swiftly abandons her current coat and slips on the new one. “Thanks, I’ll be sure to use it often.”

Kafka pats Firefly’s head gently, smiling down at her like a mother would her daughter.

“Congrats on your mission, by the way,” she says. “Quite the stir this time, I wish I was there to have seen it all.”

Firefly chuckles nervously. “Yeah, Penacony was definitely… interesting.”

And then, as if summoned by his homeland, two doors slide open and Sunday enters with Elio nestled snugly in his arms.

“I apologize for being late,” says the Halovian, bowing slightly. Kafka laughs.

“Don’t worry about it,” she assures, waving a hand carelessly. “What matters is that you’re here, Birdie.”

Fuchsia eyes narrow amusedly at the seer comfortably cradled against Sunday’s chest.

“Having fun there, Elio?” Kafka teases. Elio squints at the woman for a second before letting out a disturbingly cat-like meow and nuzzling back into the warm wool of Sunday’s turtleneck.

As much as you want to laugh at the seer, your eyes are somewhere else. Besides you, Firefly has seized up, her posture stiff and awkward at the sight of the former Oak Head. Figures, she probably had… a lot of conflicts, to put it lightly, with Sunday, and seeing him so soon - not to mention with her boss - must be jarring.

You decide to give her a bit of comfort. Nudging her lightly, you offer her an encouraging smile. She returns it gratefully, before taking a deep breath and greeting her now-junior.

“Hi, Sunday,” she says tentatively with a shy smile. Sunday’s eyes soften.

“Ah, Miss Firefly.” He nods politely. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Yes.” Firefly shifts her feet. “How have you been?”

“Better. You Hunters have been far more accommodating than I had ever anticipated, although rather eccentric.”

“That’s good,” Firefly chuckles. She pulls out a light-blue gift bag, and, walking up to Sunday, extends it to him. “This is your initiation gift. I really hope you like it.”

“Ah, thank you.” 

Elio jumps off Sunday so that he can accept the gift, and opts to climb Kafka instead. In the meantime, Sunday handles Firefly’s gift as one might handle a baby. Once he opens it, however, his eyes widen in shock and his breath hitches.

“This is…”

Firefly smiles softly. “I asked your sister personally.”

Grasped in Sunday’s shaking hands is a gleaming album of red and purple. His sister’s face smiles up at him from the recording booth as she sings to the hearts of millions across the universe. Signed in the corner in a pastel pink pen is her signature.

“I…” Sunday’s voice is choked in his throat. He sounds like he’s about to cry. A part of you wants to reach out and give him a hug, but you don’t think that’s the right course of action right now.

“There’s a note inside,” Firefly offers. “And as for the album itself, it’s like a mini phonograph, so you can play it whenever you want.”

Sunday’s hand clasps tightly over his mouth as to hold back the tears that threaten to break from his eyes. Golden rings scan Robin’s face, again and again, rechecking her signature to make sure that he isn’t seeing things.

“I don’t know what to say,” he whispers. “I…” He inhales deeply to calm himself and reign back his composure. “...Thank you, Miss Firefly. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

“You should be thanking your sister,” says Firefly. “She put some other things in the bag there for you, and- Silver Wolf? Did you give him your gifts yet?”

Silver Wolf doesn’t even look up from her game. “Nope. Give me a sec, I just gotta beat this level aaaaaand- done.”

She jumps up, her Origami bird fluttering in surprise as she does. Twirling her fingers, a phone materializes in her hold.

“Here’s your phone, newbie,” she says, stopping in front of Sunday. “I cleared it of all its tracking malware and transferred your frozen accounts from the IPC. Everything else should be the same.”

“Damn, you had tracking malware?” you comment, stealing back your seat now that Silver Wolf has left. Sunday sighs.

“Yes, the Dream Master was rather… paranoid.”

“That doesn’t matter though,” chirps Silver Wolf as Sunday takes back his phone. “I already got rid of it all, so it’s useless now. I also added you to the groupchat. Your sister’s been texting you like crazy, though. You might want to answer her.”

“...I’ll think about it,” says Sunday. The hacker shrugs.

“Do what you want, it’s not my business.” She starts up another level, evident by the 8-bit music playing from her phone. “Your old clothes should be in your room now; I put them on your bed for you.”

“You did? When?”

“Just now.”

You shoot a confused Sunday a smile. “Silver Wolf’s specialty lies in altering the data of reality.”

“Ah. Well, thank you Miss Silver Wolf.”

The hacker wrinkles her nose. “Just Silver Wolf is fine. Although, I have got to ask-”

She looks up, excitement and curiosity glittering behind her nonchalant facade.

“Why did you have so many copies of the same outfit? Are you like, an NPC?”

Sunday doesn’t seem to know what to do with Silver Wolf’s expectant gaze. He tilts his head.

“It’s merely a matter of convenience. I can’t wear the same clothes every day, that would be unsanitary. But the public has a certain image of me, and I had to uphold it - hence the clothes.”

“Oh.” Silver Wolf deflates. “That was significantly less interesting than I thought it’d be.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t mind her,” you butt in. “She just likes to over exaggerate things so that she gets disappointed by them because she sets her expectations too high.”

“I do not!” Silver Wolf kicks you childishly, nearly spilling your wine in the process. You shoot her a glare.

“Yes, you do, I have receipts- do you want me to pull them out? I will pull them out.”

“Yeah, right. Screenshots? Recordings? Please, you know that’s useless against a hacker like me.”

“I’m not that unprepared you heathen-”

Elio sighs as the two of you begin bickering. Kafka chuckles, patting him on the head while Blade has already started napping standing up. Sunday glances at the two senior Hunters nervously.

“Are they always- like this?” he asks. Elio shakes his head in disappointment.

“You’ll get used to it.”

—

Later that night, Sunday sits in his room. There’s little to no light, save for the small lamp that sits on his bedside table. Soft piano music plays in the background, accompanied with the soft soprano of his sister.

“In candlelight, as time unwinds, I find myself, lost in your eyes.”

He closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the still-white walls of his room. He welcomes the melody into his ears, allowing it to consume him in its song. 

“In midnight tolls, as darkness folds, I see your tears, when we say goodbye.”

Flashes of Penacony’s scenery as he had fallen reemerge in his mind. He remembers the sunrise, the piercing light of the sun as it touched upon Golden Hour for the first time in years.

“Watching stars, as we drift on by.”

He remembers his sister’s embrace, the confusion and the fear, but also the relief and comfort of family.

“A touch,”

If he loses himself enough…

“A glance,

If he forgets enough…

“Fly away.”

He could almost believe that it’s his sister standing next to him that’s singing, not a recording.

“Will our paths converge, ‘neath the sun?”

Robin’s voice swells, and strings jump in to accompany it. Goosebumps chill his skin and his breath catches in his chest. His eyes squeeze, a strangling emotion he doesn’t recognize squeezing at his heart.

“A silent desire, in melody sung.”

For a moment, he sees her, he sees his sister, he sees Robin. It is almost as if she is speaking to him, singing to him, asking him of what fate has in store for them.

“Beyond this stolen night, we share a cherished dream.”

Indeed, they did. Her dream, their dream. A dream to fill the skies with their songs, to dance for the people they loved so much.

“Between souls whispered that it ‘seems’.”

But only one of them could make that dream a reality.

“Will shooting stars align ‘neath the sun?”

His eyes peek open, glossy and aching. The music heightens, and the dark ceiling blurs into the beginnings of a beautiful nightscape, full of twinkling stars and kissed by the retreating sun.

“In whispered hopes where journey's begun.”

Penacony smiles down at him, the home to which he’ll never return to. All twelve hours have passed, and a new day has begun.

“In dreams, we waltz the sky,”

His hand twitches. It flexes against the blankets, grasping for something, someone who isn’t there.

“You watch me drift on by,”

Oh, how he wishes he could hold her again, see her smile again, watch her sing once more. His heart aches to cradle his baby sister one last time, even if it’s for a second, just so that his last sight of her wouldn’t be of a smile with tears.

 “In your memory, a whispered song,”

“A seed of hope where we belong.”

The song ends, leaving Sunday with a husk of a heart. A singular tear breaks free and slips down his cheek. For the first time, Sunday doesn’t think to wipe it.

His chest hurts, yet lighter, as if a weight has been lifted, leaving his heart to deal with the repercussions of bearing said weight for so long. He can breathe, painfully so, yet it is clear, crisp, rejuvenating.

He wants to see her again, but not now. Not yet.

But one day, they will.

His phone pings, snapping him out of his thoughts. He almost doesn’t want to check it, but it pings again and he picks it up reluctantly.

It’s you, he realizes, a small smile slipping onto his face.

Sunday grimaces at the memory. Last week, he’d made the mistake of admiring one of the flowers that grew over your door. Well, that flower turned out to be carnivorous, and very territorial, and it nearly took off a chunk off his finger had he not blasted it out of panic.

He still has to buy you a replacement.

He shakes his head, sighing with a smile. Out of reflex, he flexes the finger that had been bit. Had it not been for you, it would still be wrapped in bandages.

A soft laugh escapes him at your sticker. He scrolls up for a bit through the conversation, rereading it over and over again. Why? He doesn’t know. It just feels right.

His scrolling stops just over the attachment you sent. So this is his part of the script - Elio’s infamous prophecy that contains details of the future, down to the very second. He clicks on it.

Reading over it briefly, his brows furrow.

“Alfeasa-VIII, is it?” he murmurs. 

He’s heard of the planet before; a prosperous kingdom with loyal and loving subjects that worshiped the Preservation. He’d never paid much attention to it, though, as the most interaction he’d ever gotten from it were a few of its nobles who came to Penacony for vacation.

His fingers stop just above a paragraph in his script that seems all too out of place.

At 22:38:10 system time, the reigning kingdom of Alfeasa-VIII will fall. [Name] will dispense multiple gas bombs at the banquet. They will give you one gas mask to give to a person of your choosing. Whoever you choose will become the next ruler of Alfeasa-VIII. I trust that you will choose wisely.

—

Bonus (left on read):

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reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[drchenquill]

I had this new WIP idea couple of days ago... No title yet, just a bunch of words slapped on a google docs page, enjoy~

A world full of magic is like an endless corridor with thousands of wide-open doors. You can try out so much, you can experience so much. Magic is the key to happiness. There are different types of magic. You can be born with it, which makes you a mage. You will then be your own source of magic. Then there are sorcerers. These people draw their powers from a source outside their body. Mostly from otherworldly creatures who pursue their own goals and use the sorcerer for their own purposes. The number of mages decreases over the years, as it becomes increasingly rare to be born with self-produced power. This is why mages are highly valued. Some wizards have set themselves the task of finding all the mages that still exist in this world in order to exploit the pure energy within them. This group of wizards is called “Erebus”, like the deity they serve. Not much is known about said deity yet, which makes fighting this group impossible. At the same time, another group of sorcerers has risen from the shadows, who have made the protection of mages their life's goal. They call themselves “Elpida” because they are hope for all mages in this world- Candy are you even listening to me?

I blinked a few times when my name was called. I looked into the exasperated eyes of my master, who had been desperately trying to teach me the magical history of the world for an hour now. “Of course. Elpida, horrible people! They should be behind bars,” I said with false anger. The anger I saw in Mr. Mandragon's dark eyes, however, was real. He wrinkled his nose, causing his glasses to slip slightly, leaned over my desk towards me and said, “Erebus.” I looked at him, confused. “Ere- What?” I said. He leaned back again, removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose lightly with his index finger and thumb. “Erebus are the bad ones, Candy. Elpida are the ones who will help you. I'm an Elpida.” he explained for the hundredth time. The stressed man in front of me was a sorcerer who had made it his mission to help me gain a foothold in the world of magic. The reason for this was that he thought I was probably a mage. Since he was a sorcerer, he was connected to something whose powers he used. This something had apparently sensed that I had magic inside me and had ordered Mr. Mandragon to coax it out of me. If he didn't, he would lose his powers. “I'm sorry, Mr. Mandragon, but all of this is so complicated. Far too many names that I can never remember in my life. What's more, I don't understand why I have to learn it,” I said to him. He rolled up the sleeves of his suit shirt, put his large yet delicate hand on the table and mumbled something. When he removed it again, I saw a picture on the wood. A building, huge and old. Probably built in the Middle Ages. The picture changed and I saw five elderly gentlemen, all wearing long white robes, with a crest of a thick tree with outstretched roots on their chests. “Do you know who that is?” he asked me. I shook my head. “That's the Council of Elpida Sorcerers. You will be under their protection if all goes well.” He stroked the picture and it disappeared. He then crossed his arms and shook his head to get his slightly-too-long black bangs out of his face. “They're stuck up men and if you step in front of them without knowing their history, they won't want you.” he explained further. I understood the concept behind it, but unfortunately I've lived my life so far without giving any thought to magic. My family was pure, which meant there were no mages or sorcerers in my family tree. For me, this meant that there was no chance in my life that I was a mage. But Mr. Mandragon was firmly convinced.