#but my brain Don’t Agree With This Method

[jaggedamethyst]

circuit breaker 🔬🌌 (part five)

tutor!jayce talis x reader, ekko x reader college au

content: after what happened, jayce is committed to helping you learn the physics material. even if it means daily sessions and spreading himself extremely thin.

harsh language (cursing, off-hand kms jokes), jayce mom angst, actual physics but I hope it makes sense…I swear I chose relatively simple concepts!! (If you need more context for the graph Jayce made, legit just google physics electron progression 1s 1p and a chart with arrows should come up on google) 

notes: might fuck around and post the next part asap because its that good

word count: 1.9k

series master list

。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆　　 。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆

Somehow the next week was even more stressful than the last few. With the looming stress of this week’s quiz and the strenuous schedule Jayce had you on—you were beginning to wonder if these study sessions were even going to pay off. 

He agreed to meet at your place. He’d show up every day, on the dot, supplies in hand. The happy expression on his face made you feel optimistic at first. You were ready to take on physics with a new level of confidence.

That was Monday.

By Wednesday, Jayce’s upbeat mood and cheery outlook just drained you even more. When Thursday came around, one day before the quiz, you were sure you were at your limit. 

“Hi, Jayce.” You spoke in monotone, opening the door before he could even knock. You turned away from him, allowing him to step into your apartment and close the door himself. 

He poked at your disinterested tone. “Someone’s in a good mood.”

“Yes, well I think that I’ve consumed enough physics this week that I might be reincarnated as Bohr…but that’s fine.” You stalked to your room, “That’s assuming my brain cells aren’t stuck in their own orbits or whatever the fuck.”

“Wait,” he paused in the middle of the hall leading to your room. 

“What?” 

“You…just made a physics joke.” He pointed to you, his tone increasing in amazement. “And it actually made sense-“ 

“It should.” You turned away from him, continuing into your room. “If I have to hear about atomic structure, valence electrons, or nucleus-es any more I might kill myself.” 

“Nuclei.” 

“Huh?” You pulled out the chair at your desk, allowing space for him to sit at the chair next to yours. 

He sat beside you, grabbing your notebook. He flipped to a fresh page as he spoke, “Nuclei is the plural…for when you mean more than one nucleus.” 

“Not to be that person but I think we may have bigger fish to fry than my grammar, Jayce.” 

“You’re right.” He rubbed his hands together, “Where should we start?” 

“Well we left off with electron configuration. I understand the concept…kind of…but I can’t remember all of these damn numbers. The pattern is weird.” 

Jayce reached toward the floor, seeing some of the papers from the previous day still thrown about. He grabbed one with the electron chart—clearly marked with notes and color coordinated to help you remember. 

“I think its best we start with this…if you’re trying to remember and do the problem at the same time you won’t understand it.” He slid the paper in front of you, setting it aside from the book. He then reached for another paper he’d bought—a worksheet. “Here’s some more examples for you to work on. Why don’t you try the first one like we practiced?”

You whined a bit, “Do I have to?” 

“Do you want to get a good grade?” 

You paused, snatching the pencil from the table. “Just because you have a good point doesn’t mean I like it.” 

He remained silent, stifling a laugh. He looked over your shoulder, watching you work out the questions. Somehow you’d made an already long question exponentially longer—working through a method that seemed to work for you. It of course tacked on extra minutes to each problem, though.

“How’s this?” You looked to Jayce for approval. 

“This is…” His eyes scanned your writing. Among the many cross outs and faint eraser marks was not a correct answer, but one extremely close. “This is almost right. You just messed up at the end here.” 

“What? No way-“ You looked at his finger pointing between the chart and your work, spotting the error. “Oh…I see what I did wrong.” 

“Good…wanna try and fix it?” 

You didn’t make direct eye contact, but honed in on the paper—encouraged to get the correct answer. He lingered over your movements with a watchful eye until you were done. 

“Okay…how about now?” You held the book out to Jayce.

“Amazing.” 

“But you didn’t check-“ 

“I did—watched you do the whole thing.” 

You turned to Jayce, “Sure you did.” 

“No, really.” He pushed the notebook back to you. “In fact, I think you’re ready to do three of these.” 

“You sure?” 

He nodded, pushing the materials back in a group for you to work on. “You got this.” 

Jayce sat silently again, catching the way you’d twisted your lips in concentration. Your grip on the pencil was harsh, the wood pressing into your skin in a way he was sure should hurt. Even so, you didn’t give up. The process became longer than he expected. His vision started to blur, his focus becoming less sharp, but he stayed watching. 

Eventually, you turned to him, several minutes having passed. To both of your surprise, you did rather well. Jayce traced over your handwriting, noting the simple mistakes you needed to keep an eye out for. You nodded alongside him, physically writing down the notes he gave you. Before you continued, you decided on a quick break. 

“I’m gonna go grab something to drink, do you want anything?” 

“No,” Jayce yawned suddenly, “I’m good.” He moved to rub his eyes, sorting through some of the papers that had found their way to the floor. He turned a bit, watching you leave the room. 

You rounded the corner, beelining for the refrigerator and cabinets for a snack—you needed fuel immediately.

With an inhale, you leaned back into the kitchen countertop. Truthfully, you were feeling a bit more confident now, but if you were feeling drained you could only imagine Jayce. You made quick work of grabbing a few more snacks for him and a bottle of water before heading back to the room. 

Before crossing the threshold, you froze—the sound of light snores filled the room. 

Jayce had fallen asleep. 

A crooked smile found a way to your lips, the sight of him admittedly being very cute. Despite him being asleep, his lashes fluttered a bit. His lips parted and let out the sound of his breath. In an occurrence that should provide him comfort, intensity still lingered in his brows; they were pinched together in worry. You didn’t miss the way his lip would occasionally twitch—fighting off the pain that lived in him. 

With a quick motion, you quietly set the things you’d grabbed to the side. Making sure you stepped lightly—you swung open the closet and grabbed a blanket to lay over him. You gulped at the action, not even giving it a second thought. The thought left you just as quickly as it had appeared, your feet moving you back toward your desk and open notebook. 

Your eyes scanned over your work and the example problems pensively—immediately feeling an overwhelming sensation fill you. Your palms began to sweat, fingers and hands shaking in front of you. A slow blink and deep breath allowed you to calm yourself, enough to grab your pencil and start in on the example problems. Jayce turned then, still sleeping but fidgeting a bit. You had to try to do this—on your own. 

For a while, you worked on the problems only, afraid to crosscheck for the answers. Eventually, you’d grown confidence to check. There were a few you’d gotten wrong, circling back to check what you did incorrectly with a motivated scribble. Others, you’d gotten right, though. A warm feeling sat inside you, a pride over finally understanding the material. 

Beside you, Jayce started to stir before quickly sitting up in panic. “Fuck, when did I fall asleep?” 

You looked to your left, the clock hanging above. “Like an hour ago.” 

“Why didn’t you wake me up? I’m supposed to be helping you.” He moved to stand, folding the blanket you’d placed over him. 

“Figured you could use the down time.” 

He moved closer to the chair, watching you lean your head up to look at him. His shoulders slumped at the optimism in your gaze. “I feel like I’m fucking this up.” He drew in a dramatic breath, “Am I a bad tutor?” 

You pushed the chair back a bit, letting him look at your self-graded work. “You tell me.” 

His eyes raked over the paper, bending over the blanket in his grasp. He took his time surveying all the written out problems. His nostrils flared when he would let out an amused chuckle at the ones you went back to fix. He leaned away, “You’re pretty smart, huh?” 

“Well,” You stood, grabbing the blanket from him. “I have a not so bad tutor.” 

Jayce folded his arms, “Right.” 

You turned to put the blanket away. When you got back to your desk, you gestured for Jayce to find his seat next to yours again. As the two of you were finally sat, Jayce spoke up. 

“So,” he cleared his throat, “How are you feeling? I mean, like mental health wise. I know it’s been a lot.” 

“I think…I’m working on it.” You nodded, “As best as I can.” 

“That’s good. You should be proud.” 

“Thank you, I try to be.” You swallowed, seeming to look off into the distance. The quietness of the room made you want to speak to fill it. “How’s your mom?” 

Jayce watched you grimace at the abrupt question, but felt grateful you asked. “She’s okay. I spend a lot of time with her—helping and doing whatever she needs to feel comfortable.” He looks down at his hands in his lap. “Think it’s just a hard time for her, feeling herself be weak in a way she’s never been before.” 

You nodded then, looking at his downturned gaze. “I get that.” 

“I’m trying really hard to be what she needs me to be, whatever that looks like.” He readjusted, “Sometimes I think that’s a good student…to keep my grades up. Other times I think it’s to just be a good son…show up every day after class. It’s exhausting trying to figure it out.” 

“I can only imagine.” 

“It’s different with you though.” He jumped a bit at the way your head snapped to him. He spoke quickly, “I just mean that…I know what my purpose is. I can physically see you improving.” He rubbed his neck, “I’m not making sense am I?” 

You shook your head, “I’m attempting to follow-“ 

“I guess I should just thank you, then.” 

“Thank me? For what?” 

“For letting me help you. For letting me have a purpose outside of just student, son, friend, whatever.” He placed a hand on the desk in front of you, closing the gap between you. He finally let his eyes meet your again, a sincere look on his face. “Thank you.” 

A tight feeling ran through you, pushing from your chest outward. You didn’t break the eye contact, though. “I think you’re giving me too much credit, Jayce.” 

“I don’t think I give you enough.” 

A breath caught in your throat, suddenly overwhelmed by the lingering look Jayce had on you. The both of you stayed there, looking between one another’s eyes. Jayce’s movement forward was almost imperceptible; you wouldn’t have noticed had you not been studying every feature on him.

His phone dinged—piercing through the palpable tension in your room. He looked away, a reluctance in his motion. You looked toward the door in a huff, pushing away the feeling that had creeped up on you so quickly. 

“Sorry, it’s Mel.” 

“Oh,” you turned to him expectantly, “Do you need to go?” 

Without missing a beat he turned his phone face down and folded his hands in front of you. “Nope…I’m good here.” 

“Okay, then.” 

He slid the book from in front of you, splitting the distance. “Let’s get a better look at this amazing work you did.” 

Your tongue pushed on the inside of your cheek, the skin puffing out and heating at the praise. 

“Alright, then.” 

taglist

@juskonutoh @sseleniaa @aerina127 @sleepysoldier @angelicmisty @1800latenitecreep @venus-in-roses @myxticmoon @rando-no-5

[gauntletgirlie]

So, I have a confession to make. Long post to follow, sorry.

Anyone who follows my blog knows I post the thirstiest bullshit, alright, and I love it but…

… there’s a part of me that doesn’t agree with the sexualisation sometimes. I’ve often wondered if my brain just works in different ways to other people’s, maybe I have some aroace in me yearning to come forth? But there are a lot of ships that sprung up from TROP where I have nothing against them at all, I firmly stand on ship and let ship, but what they were founded on I did not interpret as sexy or romantic.

For example, Adar is shipped with all and sundry and it’s brilliant and peak comedy at times, fuelled by Sam Hazeldine’s fantastic chemistry with his co-stars. But there are certain scenes where I get why they were interpreted that way, but I also think a lot can be missed by jumping to sex/romance.

One instance is Adar telling Elrond he has the beauty of his forebear Melian. In modern society, a man calling another man beautiful probably is flirting, since men (generalisation) struggle to compliment each other apparently without feeling the need to caveat “no homo”. But in the context of Tolkien’s world and even medieval norms, that wasn’t the case. If anything, Adar is showing off his knowledge and also baiting Elrond by asking if he’s as wise as Melian.

Also take the scene where Adar chokes Elrond to get Nenya from around his neck. Often interpreted as kinky (which is valid). Sometimes choking is just violence though. Adar needed to get Nenya and overpower Elrond. He’s in the middle of a literal battle. Maybe I’ve watched too much true crime and seen the effects of countless domestic abuse cases, but choking can just be violent and violently intended. Probably a boring and obvious take, but that’s how I perceived it when I watched.

Does Adar look sexy as hell doing it? I think so but others might not. Could you also see it as Adar flirting with Elrond and ship them together? Of course! Why the hell not! I just sometimes miss the non-romantic aspects of analysis and discussion.

Same with Maidar. I totally get where that ship comes from, it makes sense, it has a lot going for it. I also personally adhere to the notion there was no sex or romance between them. I think there was alluring, I think there was admiration, I think there was a codependency, I don’t think it was sexual or romantic. To me, having your best friend and/or most trusted, loyal follower stab you in the back would hurt more than a lover. I might be falling back on my own thoughts on how I’d feel and I would personally be more devastated at being betrayed by my closest friend than my husband. I’ve lost friends and I’ve lost loves, the friends hurt more.

Adariel is another one. Again, I think there are strong grounds for that ship and I love so much of the art for it, but a lot of what is interpreted as romantic for me was just tactical manipulation, coupled with genuine admiration on Adar’s part and the fact that Galadriel is beautiful so most people would be attracted to her if we’re being totally honest. Adar used her to get what he wanted. His methods might have included flirtation or creating tension in closeness, but for me, they were all about tactics to defeat Sauron. Galadriel and Nenya were a way for him to do that so he did want he needed to facilitate that.

I’m not even going to touch on Haladriel or Saurondriel because this post is already hella long and my anxiety is already sky high so I’m chickening out.

Sorry this is such a weird random word vomit, it was nerve wracking to write and post, but I just needed space to let this part of me out. I know it’s so contradictory to how I’ve presented myself on here so far, but I felt like if I’m allowed to let the thirst flow, I should be allowed to let this version of me out as well.

I’m literally this:

Guess which one gets fed more? 😂

Fear not, folks, I will resume my thirsty bullshit forthwith.

[nekittie]

once again obsessed with the “buck and stiles are cousins” concept because my brain truly hates me.

[flwrkid14]

Tim Drake, Sleep-Deprived Overlord Extraordinaire (and the Boy Who Grounds Him)

The thing about Tim Drake is that he’s brilliant. The thing about Tim Drake without sleep is that he’s unhinged.

It always starts subtly. A missed night of sleep here, a triple shift there. His words get sharper, his focus becomes razor-edged, and the bats can practically see the neurons in his brain firing like a thousand fireworks.

Then, somewhere around hour 56 of no sleep, Tim crosses the threshold into full-blown megalomania.

He doesn’t just think he’s smart—he knows it. He’ll drop gems like, “Honestly, Gotham’s infrastructure is appalling. If I really wanted to, I could take over the city in 72 hours, tops,” or “Do you think I could reprogram every Bat-computer in the Cave before Bruce notices? Because I can.”

Which—yeah, okay, the family knows he’s capable of it, but it’s terrifying.

When he’s in this state, Tim walks around with the energy of someone who’s cracked the secrets of the universe and is two steps away from becoming a benevolent dictator. His confidence is unsettling. His hyper-awareness is borderline supernatural.

The bats try. Oh, do they try.

“Tim,” Dick says gently, holding out a cup of chamomile tea and a soft blanket. “Maybe you should lie down for a bit.”

Tim doesn’t even glance at him. “Lying down is for the weak, Dick. Also, you left your phone on the counter. Might wanna grab it before someone texts Kori again.”

Dick freezes. He did leave his phone on the counter, and he can only hope Tim didn't do anything with it (Though his comment definitely says otherwise).

“Tim,” Bruce says, the Big Bat Voice in full swing. “You need to rest.”

Tim smirks, flipping through his tablet. “Rest is for the dead, and I’m not in the mood for ghosts tonight. Also, you forgot to update the encryption on your personal server. Again.”

Even Damian tries, but he gets as far as hurling a batarang at Tim’s leg before Tim dodges it without looking. “Tsk tsk, Damian. You’re getting predictable.”

It’s chaos. It’s exhausting.

Enter Danny Fenton.

Danny’s used to Tim’s shenanigans by now. He’s been around for enough of Tim’s sleep-deprivation arcs to know the signs. The sharp eyes, the slightly-too-bright smile, the way he starts muttering plans for world domination like he’s drafting a grocery list.

Danny lets it slide for a while—Tim in hyper-mode is kind of cute, in a “my boyfriend might accidentally take over the world” way. But then he sees the bags under Tim’s eyes, the way his hands tremble just slightly from over-caffeination, and he knows it’s time to intervene.

Danny doesn’t use tea. He doesn’t try reason. He doesn’t even bother with the blanket method.

Instead, Danny steps into the Cave, tilts his head at Tim, and says, “Honey, can we cuddle?”

Tim freezes.

The bats, who have been subjected to hours of Tim’s unrelenting, untouchable brilliance, watch in shock as their insurmountable sibling folds like a deck of cards.

“I—uh—cuddle?” Tim stammers, blinking like a deer in headlights.

Danny smiles, soft and sweet and just shy of smug. “Yeah, I miss you. Come to bed with me?”

Tim’s resolve crumbles. He’s already pulling off his gauntlets. “Yeah, okay. Just for a bit.”

“A bit,” Danny agrees, but he’s already leading Tim upstairs.

The bats are left standing in the Cave, mouths agape.

Jason’s the first to break the silence. “Did we just get out-maneuvered by Tim’s boyfriend? The guy who hangs out with Harley Quinn for fun?”

Dick snorts. “I mean, are we really surprised? Danny’s been handling Tim better than any of us for years.”

Bruce exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing. “As long as Tim’s resting, I don’t care how it happened. Danny’s good for him.”

“Yeah,” Jason agrees with a shrug. “Kid’s weird, but he’s got a good head on his shoulders. And if he can get Replacement to sleep, I’ll send him a damn fruit basket.”

The bats exchange a rare moment of collective relief.

Upstairs, Danny tucks Tim into bed, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face as Tim curls into him. He doesn’t care about strategies or what the bats think. All that matters is Tim, finally at peace in his arms.

"Sleep well, genius," Danny murmurs, pressing a kiss to Tim’s forehead. And for the first time in days, Tim does.

[signanothername]

Why do you like Killer?

*Cracks knuckles* get ready

I don’t like Killer, I fucking LOVE HIM

He’s my number 1 fave au sans and has been for a very long time

Now to be clear, I’m talking about canon Killer here, i have mixed feelings about some fanon interpretations, some are good and i genuinely love them, others not so much

That being said, let’s actually talk about why i love my beautiful amazing wonderful son <3333

(All art used in this post is by Killer’s creator: Rahafwabas)

The very first hook for me is his very concept, the mere idea of a sans basically agreeing to go on a killing spree after so many genocide runs is just *chef’s kiss*

Killer knew it was wrong, he knew he shouldn’t, yet he did

Killer doomed himself by his choice, he could’ve stayed as “sans” but he chose to accept Chara’s offer, yet his choice came to be after he saw no point in refusing anymore (important addition and a correction here)

The canon comics had Killer saying that he’s the way he is cause he gave up, he said “you won, you’re the reason I’m like this”, he’s been on so many genocide runs that he felt a little part of him die each run, only to give up and go on said killing spree

It’s interesting how the player is a big part of Killer’s story, cause whether Chara was involved or not, the player is the root cause of his suffering

But what i love the most is that regardless of his backstory or reasons, Killer’s actions led to their inevitable consequences, and it forever changed him

The biggest change? His very soul, it went from a normal monster soul to his signature target soul, infused with Determination, something that supposedly hurts monsters, it’s almost like his soul was infected with it, and you can see how it physically affects him with the black liquid that constantly comes out his eyes, nose and mouth, and even at times, that sludge is too much that he chokes on it

And the amusing yet tragic parallel? Killer aimed to “feel something new” by his genocide runs, only to end up not feeling anything at all, at least at his default stage 2

Which brings me to the concept of his soul’s stages

I love Killer’s stages so so much, it’s such a beautiful unique and wonderful concept

Killer’s individual stages are sooooo intriguing to me, it shows Killer in a different light each time depending on which stage he’s in, stage 1 is the closest he is to being “sans”, the closest to he used to be, he can feel emotions and is generally back to his more lazy bones attitude, as well as his ability to actually show sympathy, and feel the pain he’s always in, but what’s interesting is that regardless of the fact he’s the closest to his old self in this stage, it’s still so clear that Killer isn’t really “sans” anymore, that no matter what, he truly had changed in a way that can never be reversed, a point of no return, even when Color saves him, cause his new habits? His fears? His pain? His trauma? They can never be taken away, Killer has to live with the scars of what he experienced

Stage 2 is who he’d become, he can’t feel anything at this stage, emotions nonexistent, and his nonchalant behavior towards himself and others is most apparent here, a parallel I like to think of is that Killer’s inability to feel anything at all is almost like prolonged sensory deprivation, when you’re deprived of sensory input/ simulation for long periods, your brain needs compensate, and so it does its job, Killer’s soul prevents him from feeling so he resorts to other methods (usually very self destructive) to compensate for his lack of emotional capacity

I also really really love how that especially during stage 2, Killer isn’t trustworthy, cause in stage 1 you can actually trust him to an extent, in stage 2 Killer’s actions, behaviors and mindset are completely unpredictable, but not because he’s random, cause he’s actually extremely calculated, yet regardless, his carelessness when it comes to his own life and other people’s lives is dialed to an 11 here, so he could either choose to kill/attack or simply stay and listen

we even get an actual in depth look at how Killer’s mind works in one of the canon comics, in which Killer contemplates whether to attack Dream or not as he listens to his own stages in his head, one of which tells him to Kill Dream, while the other tells Killer to talk to Dream first

How Killer comes to a final decision on whether he attacks or not is something I believe his calculated mind makes depending on the situation and the pros/cons of what act he chooses, Killer is pretty smart, he knows when to let his trigger happy self out and when to settle down

Stage 3 or the “crazy stage” is the stage in which he’d attack anyone in his way whether friend or foe, we unfortunately don’t have much canon info regarding this stage, but that ain’t gonna stop me from analyzing the shit outta it (and talk about how i perceive it)

I like to think of this stage as the combination between stage 1 and 2, yet it’s almost like his soul can’t truly decide on which stage to settle on and by extension founding stage 3 as a separate stage by itself, Killer becomes extremely unstable at this stage, his soul moves rapidly and it’s obvious he’s in pain cause of it, whether that pain is just emotional or both physical and emotional isn’t really clear, yet i’d like to believe it’s both, and i feel like Killer’s capacity to attack anyone at this stage is related to that pain, and something I really love to believe is that Killer can’t calm down enough to settle back to stage 1 or 2 unless he either wears himself out by fighting someone, or he’s left alone to his own demons long enough to pull himself together, if he were to be forcefully restrained during this stage, it would only serve to make it worse and prolong the time he stays that way (cough something i may or may not have made a quick comic about but never shared as always vjvjvjj)

Not to mention, one of the canonical responses Killer gives when asked if he’s ok at stage 3 seems to make Killer alternate between answers he wants to give between saying he’s “fine” and “i don’t know” which makes sense, Killer isn’t stable at all, it’s almost like his stage 1 self and stage 2 self are fighting over who gets to talk (stage 2 seems more dominant)

Yet the fact Killer is able to answer and comprehend his surroundings enough at this stage is very intriguing to me, cause it shows how much Killer is able to handle/endure (which is A LOT cause damn) and not only that, but it also gives us a very clear difference between this stage and stage 4

As for stage 4?? Woooh boi, it’s the stage I like to call “plunging into darkness”

We also don’t have much canon info about this stage, but one of the things i find interesting is the fact Killer deliberately keeps it a secret from everyone, when he tells Color about his stages, he only tells him up to stage 3, never bringing up stage 4, only for Chara to sneer at Killer that he shouldn’t keep it from his new BFF

It’s obvious Killer himself is very uncomfortable with the subject of stage 4, it’s apparent that it’s a stage that he rarely gets to, but it still bothers him enough to not want to even mention it, which makes sense, cause the comic we had of stage 4 shows that Killer gets to that stage when he’s reminded of all the murders he committed, and unsurprisingly, when he’s reminded of his brother, as what triggered this stage is actually a memory of Papyrus telling Sans to “see a puzzle”, only to be followed by memories of screams of anger, fear, and hatred of those he killed immediately afterwards, stage 4 is heavily related to his trauma

Not to mention it’s clear that when Killer gets to stage 4 he blacks out, he’s completely unaware of anything he does during this stage, and is only left to deal with the aftermath when he gets back to his senses, the fact it’s also a stage that seems to be “getting worse” is something that Killer definitely seems to hate

It sometimes makes me think whether Killer had gotten into trouble cause he killed someone Nightmare wanted alive while at this stage, cause with how he keeps it a secret, I’d assume Nightmare would be unaware of it for a while (comic idea perhaps >:) )

But y’know what’s better than talking about the stages?? Talking about Killer’s personality, behaviors and trauma

Killer can’t distinguish between what’s real or not, and it’s obvious he sometimes sees the world in the third person, as in he’s not completely there at times, not to mention the amount of voices he hears in his head, from his stages talking to him to hallucinations of Chara, Frisk and Papyrus, and oooh boi does he hate these hallucinations, the past obviously haunts Killer and it’s something he tries running away from constantly, yet he can never truly run from it when it follows him everywhere

Killer has a smile on his face most the time, but his attitude changes especially when Chara is mentioned, or when he’s reminded of his past in any way, he literally avoids food that reminds of his past life as “sans”, he freezes up at certain phrases such as “best friend” (something i also made a comic about that i never shared chchhchc)

He just absolutely hates to be reminded of the person he used to be, of all the things he used to have, cause in truth? They were all taken away from him by his own hands, only to be then forced to work under Nightmare, who only ensures that he never finds peace of mind

And the sad part? Killer let’s all those things hurt him, he lets Nightmare have his way with him, he lets Chara torment him, cause he thinks he deserves it, and most importantly, he deluded himself into believing that this is what he wants because it’s what everyone else wants, because it’s what the player wants

Killer even sometimes tries to force himself not to feel anything, cause come on, since when does he feel anything at all?

Killer, to put it bluntly, hates himself, and he thinks that his suffering is the Karma of what he’s done, and even at one point, he was going to erase himself out of existence cause he believed that’s what he deserved, as in Killer thought of himself as unworthy when it comes to Papyrus, that his brother doesn’t need him, that his brother is better off without him, hell he even tells Color that he needs to kill him if he ever reaches stage 3, it’s an obvious “ i want someone to put me outta my misery” attitude

Killer feels hopeless, and so he lets himself suffer thinking he can’t ever find peace or hope again

Yet the interesting part? You’d never know that Killer hates himself unless you’re a being of emotions (Nightmare and Dream) or someone who’s perceptive enough to notice Killer’s self-loathing like Color, that’s how good of an actor Killer can be, you’d think he’s a cold emotionaless killer but the truth only shines to those who actually can see through his act

Killer just has that amazing character depth and his story is genuinely so unique and beautiful, cause you in his story you can find details of other details within the details vhvhvjvj

All that? Mixed with really adorable little things like his love for cats, his silly attitude, his nonchalance with Nightmare, his capacity to be social with whoever, and his friendship with color? That is why I love Killer Anon <33333

[jeannyjaykaydeh]

Movie Lessons

(Part 2/3)

Part 1 is here (I don’t know how to change the name of a link so you can just click on the word 'Part 1'. Maybe someone wants to explain how I can do it 👉👈):

Fluff

Warning: Mentions of harassment

Alastor x Reader

And so it begins.

The great demon of radio would never have thought of lowering himself to this low, very low level and dealing with films.

He looks at the old CRT screen, which stands provocatively in front of him and looks as if it has that provocative grin of the repulsive face that belongs to Vox in an unobtrusive way.

At first, Alastor had conjured up a screen and an old film projector, but he quickly realised that this was a bit outdated.

After that, it only took a video recorder and a DVD player to find out that these days you can watch films on streaming platforms on the internet.

The advantage is that you can stream everything. From old to not-so-old to new.

The radio demon is on the verge of wondering what he is actually doing. He is going to all this trouble just because he is interested in a woman. Not even the slightest murderous intent is behind it.

No, it's all about damn romance.

And for the sake of that romance, he even crosses his own boundaries and puts a TV box in his room.

Alastor feels stupid and pathetic. Falling in love should be illegal.

Nevertheless, the chemical reaction in his dead brain takes control and makes the man sit down in his armchair, cross his legs, place a pad and pen on his lap and turn on the device.

Let the mission begin.

The first romantic film Alastor watches is, as expected, a boring one: man wants woman, gives her a bouquet of flowers, proposes way too quickly and she agrees because, as a woman from the fifties, she has no other purpose in life than to commit to patriarchy and bear the children of this macho man.

Alastor is ashamed of using this method with you, because he knows you well enough to know that you are not that easy to get and, above all, that you would never sell yourself short.

And yet he dares to.

The next day there is a knock at your bedroom door. When you open it, the radio demon is standing in front of you with his arms behind his back, grinning happily.

‘Hi. What's up?’ you ask, smiling.

And suddenly he holds out a huge bouquet of colourful and magnificent flowers towards you.

At first you are a little taken aback. On the one hand because of the unusually exaggerated size of the bouquet, and on the other hand because you have no idea why Alastor is giving you such a gift.

‘Y/N, my dear,‘ he begins, “I want to ask you-’

‘Al!‘ you interrupt him hastily, whereupon he looks at you in confusion.

‘Yes? What is it?’ he asks in astonishment.

‘Put the bouquet down!’ you demand in a croaking voice.

There is a rustling sound, and disappointment spreads through him. But it was clear that you wouldn't be satisfied with just a little meadow.

Alastor clutches the stems of the flowers tighter, and suddenly they all wither at the same time. Then he makes them disappear with a wave of his hand.

‘Forgive me, my darling. I saw these flowers and thought you might like them,’ he is about to say, but then he notices you staring at him, panting, eyes wide with pleading, one hand on your chest and obviously unable to breathe.

Alastor doesn't have to think long to realise that you are having an allergic asthma attack.

With your last ounce of strength, you point to the nightstand next to your bed before collapsing unconscious at the feet of the radio demon.

He rushes to your room to your nightstand to retrieve your asthma inhaler and save your second life.

Well, since film number one was a flop – Alastor crosses the first item off his list – there are a few more films to follow.

The next one on the list is a weird film. It's a bit more modern and is about ancient vampires infiltrating a high school to attract a few students.

Alastor watches this film with a raised eyebrow and, with the best will in the world, can't even begin to understand what people find so great about it.

He doesn't even have to try to know that you wouldn't be thrilled if he told you that he stood by your bed the night before and watched you sleep. You would think he was a freak. What worked for this Bella will almost certainly not work for you.

More films from earlier decades will follow, which essentially have a single message: stupid woman and macho man who explains the world to her. Fortunately, these stupid women have macho men to show them how it's done, otherwise these poor creatures would be lost. *sarcasm off*

After the third film of this kind – of which there are clearly too many – Alastor can only shake his head in condemnation and cross the other items off his list.

- Historical films with the damsel in distress and the noble knight saving her, which ensures him a big wedding afterwards: Alastor has brought her the asthma inhaler and it didn't work. So that's also crossed off the list.

- He doesn't even want to think about the film with the rich and narcissistic mother complex named something with beige or grey who brings a stranger into his playroom to beat her up. It was one of the worst things he's ever seen. Until now.

- Because the next film is a porn film. Yes, streaming services in hell also offer a porn category, but who is surprised? Of course, Alastor didn't search for this category on purpose, but accidentally came across one of these trash films after the streaming service offered him, based on a number of love films, ‘Based on your history, you seem to like romances and be single. You might also like this.’

He starts the film and the first dialogue begins: ‘Oh, Daddy, I didn't make you a sandwich. What are you going to do to me now?’

‘Shut your fuck-hole, you dirty whore, and blow me!’

A horrified look, the twitching of his left eye and strong static noise follow in response to this meaningless and obscene conversation. Immediately afterwards, the Radio Demon hastily reaches for the remote control and switches off the TV, accompanied by a decisive: ‘Nope!’

He doesn't need to watch this porn to know that this is definitely not an effective tactic for winning over a woman.

The next few films he watches are equally unpromising: ‘Bodyguard’: It's ridiculous to stop an entire plane to kiss someone. Besides, this approach is already out of the question because Alastor can't remember that you're planning to travel anytime soon.

‘Titanic‘: Apart from the fact that the rich girl hardly knows the homeless stranger who likes to draw naked women, but is already convinced after just one day that she loves the guy, Alastor knows from his aunt, who was a survivor of the sinking of the Titanic at the time, that this is not a desirable place to fall in love.

Then there are a whole range of films in which the man just won't take no for an answer. ‘Who in heaven's name ever believed that a woman would take her clothes off at the words ‘come on, darling, you know you want to’?’ asks the Radio Demon his shadow, who is no less appalled that these romances are written in such a way that sleazy, disgusting guys win the girl over with such lines. Alastor strongly doubts that persistent attempts after a rejection will achieve anything.

‘Love Actually’: At this point, Alastor has to admit that he would really like to paint a few big signs. With lots of grinning faces, funny sayings and a creative love confession. But he is opposed to it on principle, because he finds this film so pathetic and wrong on so many levels that he has no desire to be inspired by this disgrace.

If only there was a single film that would reveal the absolute truth to him. A film that would tell him exactly what he wants to know: What does he have to do to make you say ‘yes’?

[jester-lover]

Reverse of the ask where TWST bois pick the reader up: Reader is surprisingly strong and scoops *them* up.

I think the bigger the dude, the funnier, but Riddle’s reaction would be hilarious to me as well.

Somewhere in the distance, Ashton Vargas just found his new favorite student…

OG Post! Something similar for the Jack fans!

Buff Girlfriend Casually Lifting Them

Featuring! - Riddle, Jack, Malleus, Sebek

CWs/ Fem! Reader, fluff, humor

Riddle

“Unhand me at once!”

Riddle is shocked, appalled, and redder than a strawberry the second he feels you hook your hands under his knees and neck and pick him up like a bride. His hands immediately flail around and land around your shoulders, increasing his embarrassment tenfold.

His demands quiet down once the shock of the situation soaks in. His girlfriend is lifting him up and carrying him around like he weighs nothing. He has always been aware that you’re physically strong, but he didn’t know you were this strong!

Riddle usually won’t like being carried, but on the rare occasion, after a long day of school and his duties, he’ll ask for a piggyback ride back to his room. He’ll use a very standoffish tone while asking, but the way that he presses his head against the back of your shoulder lets you know he likes it.

Jack

He is so flabbergasted. Jack is in shock.

While he is aware that you’re into fitness—maybe the two of you even train together—he never knew you were this swole.

Jack is blushing; if you look close enough, his hands are shaking. He’s just realized he’s found the ideal woman for him—kind, gentle, who could break him in half like a pixie stick…

Bragging isn’t in his principles, but he might have to gloat a little bit with his track teammates when you’re literally running around with him thrown over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I mean, you’re not even exerting that much energy; he’s astounded!

Jack will (very quietly) ask for you to lift him again, just because he can’t believe it and he needs confirmation that he didn’t just make up the situation in his brain.

“Wanna join me for my morning run? It’ll be good cardio.”

Malleus

He’s getting the princess treatment. Very happy to know he’s your favorite lizard.

Since Malleus is very tall and imposing, he’s not used to such blatant displays of affection.

Having a physically stronger girlfriend would be a point of great pride for Malleus, particularly if you were a human, because then your strength would have been something you'd worked hard on. Something you’ve earned.

Being carried around is no problem for him; he may laugh a little at your strange human whimsy, but he happily agrees to being carried about at any time.

By any time, I mean any time. You could pick him up in the middle of a crowded campus hallway, and he’d just wrap his arms around you, place his head on your shoulder, and let you lead the way.

“Child of Man, be sure to drop me off at my alchemy class; perhaps I’ll let you pick me up and take me to Spelldrive Practice afterwords…”

Sebek

“How dare you, human!”

Sebek is appalled at the absolute gall you’ve got to have to do something so unabashedly romantic; don’t you see he’s too repressed for something so affectionate?

His face turns so red, and he tries to shake out of your ridiculously strong vice grip. Once he leaps off of you, get ready for an hour-long lecture. Sebek is shaking in his boots, explaining to you how inappropriate your actions were and how if you wanted his attention, there were better methods.

Midway through, he kind of realizes how hot it was that you were literally able to pick him up and carry him away like it was no problem, which makes Sebek quieter than you’ve ever seen him before, contemplating his words.

He quietly asks you to pick him up again because he wants to test your human endurance! (Ignore the way his eyes lock in on your defined shoulders, okay?)

[darkwaveho]

Mini Burden

Summary: The aftermath of Natasha doing the unthinkable to her daughter.

Mob!Natasha Romanoff x reader, Mob!Natasha Romanoff x Oc!daughter

Warnings: hurt comfort, angst?, mentions of abuse, mentions of spanking, ptsd?, unpacked truama, fluff?

Previous part

series masterlist

It’s been a week and every day since Natasha has blown up your phone with calls and messages, you've ignored them all. Even blocked her number all together. That didn't stop her from using an unknown number. The last few days you had to shower Anastasia with a lot of tender care. It was a pretty traumatic experience for her. Not used to being on the receiving end of a harsh slap or harsh words can really break you down mentally no matter the age. This memory will forever be burned into your brain, the thoughts of you holding her while she asks why her mama hit her or why did her mama hate her. Her curious mind has questions, and she needs the answers, but the truthful answers are only ones Natasha can give.

Your mind drifts away to these thoughts while you're giving Anastasia a bath. It takes for a flick of warm water to your face for you to come back to reality. You gasp immediately from the contact as Anastasia laughs. “Alright, sweet pea time to get out now.” she immediately hits you with a small, adorable pout. “A few more minutes mommy, please?” she has been in here long enough usually you use the finger prune method for her bath time, and her tiny fingers are way past the pruning stage. You sigh, not really seeing the herm in a few more minutes but you're exhausted. You've been taking Anastasia to school from this hotel, getting her ready, making dinner, breakfast, and lunch. It was a lot on you to do with your mind being elsewhere.

Not only has Natasha been bugging you Yelena has as well, she didn't take up for Natasha, but she also did not fully side with you, she didn't agree with what Natasha did, but she also thinks that you're overreacting for a small pop on the butt. You can't believe you are the only one with sense in this situation in the entire family dynamic. A knock at the door pulls you back out of your mind; you turn back to Anastasia as she waits for your response to her question that you never answered.

“A few more minutes and you’re out princess, I don't want my baby all pruned forever.” you don't shut the bathroom door as you leave out of your room just in case something happens, you're able to be alert and quick. As you make your way to the hotel room door you pause. Contemplating what you were going to do next. You didn't want to cause a scene, but you also don't want to deal with this. Through the peephole you see Natasha standing on the other side waiting patiently for you to open the door. God she can never take a hint and just let things play out, she can never just allow you space and for you to come back on your own after an argument or misunderstanding. Reluctantly you open the door, the immediate change in Natasha's demeanor shows. She’s attempted to straighten up her posture to look more confident, but you see through it. Just taking one look at her you know she’s not her usual self.

“Hey.” Natasha releases a small breath, a relief of seeing your face even if it wasn’t being reciprocated by you. It doesn’t make sense to ask how she found you, you know how. You’d never be able to fully slip away from her no matter how hard you try. You don’t answer her, you simply stare back into her waiting for her to get to the point. Waiting to hear her excuses, apologies, or if she’d spew out more harmful nonsense like she did a few days ago. She looks tired, determined and broken behind her eyes. It’s clear to her that you don’t want to speak to her yet, if at all. So, she gets to the point of her being here.

“I would like to speak with Ana.” her initial response shocks you, she isn't even attempting to coax you into forgiving her first she’s direct about her mission tonight. She's here to fix things with Anastasia first. She’s asking, not demanding. Her ego and her power trip must’ve worn off within those three days of an empty house. you're still not sure about her request. The aftermath of everything took a huge toll on Anastasia. You're not sure how she’ll react to Natasha, if she wanted to see her or if she even felt safe enough to be near her own mother again. Natasha can see you pondering on it; she knows the word ‘no’ is right at the tip of your tongue. So, she does the one thing that she knows will get you to soften up. “Please.”

I don’t think that would be a good idea.” Shake your head and cross your arms as a protective response, this might be too soon of a conversation to have.

“Look I know I said some shitty things to you and about the way you parent. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for questioning your methods and putting blame on you because I didn’t know what to do in that situation or how to handle it.” Your silence is deafening to her. The desperation is real and slowly releasing from her body. “Y/n.” She searches for your eyes. She wants your approval, she needs it. “I just want to talk to her. To see her.”

A heartfelt and genuine apology you can count on one hand how many times you’ve received an apology like that from her. This was different, she struck her daughter. She frightened her and you as well. The moment of contemplation is nearly over. The final judgment is about to come out of your mouth, but warm, sweaty hands take hold in yours but between lies a crumpled texture. When you see the image in your hand the breath you release is involuntary. The painful memories are all coming back. You never wanted to see them again, hell you never wanted to take those photos of her in the first place. Never in a million years did you think that she would open the file. She’s been so good at running away or compartmentalizing her trauma.

It also pains you that she went through this trauma again alone. You want to say more you want to be there for her but you’re not sure if this is the right timing. This is bringing a whole new baggage into Anastasia’s world. A world where someone hurt her mama, a world where not only would she visually see it in her mind but physically on an old Polaroid picture. You can only shake your head hoping to rid yourself of those thoughts.

You clear your throat trying to remain firm on your stance but the sight in front of you makes it hard. Natasha stands in front of you with vulnerable eyes and you’ve noticed the subtle twitch of her fingers the moment you opened the door, all signs of her nervousness and anxiety. “Please.” She pushes again with that word. She’s trying hard not to break down right now; she'll save it for when she’s back home alone drowning in her own darkness. She relieved her past trauma alone in that house for three days with no comfort. The reality of it is you don’t know the reaction your daughter will have. You step back, and from the looks of it Natasha expects you to open the door for her entrance however she’s clearly mistaken when the door slams in her face. She stands there with her mouth gaped and her mind racing with all the ways she could have said something better. How she could have had a better outcome. She snaps out of her own head when the door opens again, this time with more than enough room for entry. “Dramatic much?” She’s snarky as she walks into the room. “Very.” You’re dismissive with her words, she's here to make amends with her daughter, you on the other hand will not be so forgiving, that takes a proper conversation between you two. You swiftly turnaround ignoring the way Natsaha's gaze lingered on your body. “I don't want her seeing that photo.” you point towards Natasha's jacket pocket.

The rim of the polaroid sticking out of her pocket haunts you with memories of your own that you wish to have erased. Natasha takes that as relief, she’s stared at the photo enough the past few days to become sick from it. She wouldn’t want to bring more of her past trauma and dump it on Anastasia anymore than she already has. Natasha nods her head in agreement with you and the award silence and tension fills the room. You quickly find an excuse to exit from being under her gaze. A soft, vulnerable Natasha is a weakness that you fear you will never be able to truly resist. You nod towards the door behind you. “She’s just finishing up her bath.” Natasha nods in understanding knowing how hard it is to get Ana out of the bath sometimes. Natasha grins at the thought but still awkwardly looks around the luxury hotel room doing anything to avoid your gaze. She feels like a guilty puppy right now. “You don’t have to stand, you know.”

“I’m fine.”

“You need to relax, you’re fidgeting Natasha.” She looks down at her fingers and instantly stalls her movements. She hadn’t realized she was doing that. “I’ll be back, sit down Nat.” You nod towards the sofa and leave her with a look that was not up for debate. Natasha sits down and thinks about what she wants to say to her daughter and most importantly how she wants to say it.

“Hey, monster.” Natasha's greeting receives no response, just a blank stare as if the young girl is looking at a stranger. Still Natasha pushes through, not letting the small change in communication deter her from making things right. Under any other circumstances Ana would’ve run into Natasha's arms practically knocking the air out of her but she still remains in her spot standing near you, she hasn't moved an inch or said a word. You and Natasha share a brief look between each other. Natasha clears her throat as she talks to Ana from her spot on the couch.

“Are you enjoying your time with mommy?” silence. You rub Ana's shoulders for comfort letting her know that everything is fine and that she doesn’t have to be guarded. That she's not in trouble. That her mama isn't angry with her. “Ana, mama is speaking to you.” She looks up at you and goes back to Natasha. “Yes.” Natasha briefly smiles before finding something else to continue the conversation. “What did you do today?” Natasha remains hopeful as she studies her daughter's face. She hasn't seen her in days, so she makes sure to take in every little detail. Her brown locks are coiled and damped from her bath. She’s in her favorite dinosaur pajamas that you and Natasha have to hide sometimes just so she can wear her other clothes and she always tops it off with her pink fluffy socks. The brief moment of analyzing is reminding Natasha that her actions can cause this to be a permanent arrangement where she only gets to see Ana on certain days. No longer under her presence 24/7.

“Mommy took me swimming in the big pool today.” Anastasia avoids all eye contact as she plays with her fingers, staring at a spot on the fancy rug. “That’s awesome, that means you've gotten better at your breathing techniques.” Natasha tries to keep the flow of conversation going but she's hit with another wall. An awkward tension. It's clear Ana won't go towards Natasha on her own and the hurt behind Natasha's eyes is too much to bear, so you come up with an excuse. You bend down slightly to gather Ana’s attention as you softly speak to her. “Hey, sweetie, I'm gonna run to the store for your dino nuggets, why don't you go sit with mama and tell her more about your hotel stay.” You gently nudge her forward as a sign to get closer to her mother but before you can even step away your movements are halted by a strong and tiny hand.

“Don’t go mommy.” She clutches on to your hand with a vice grip. The strength of your six-year-old was truly remarkable. The scene in front of Natasha breaks her heart. Her daughter was afraid of being left alone with her; she's scared of Natasha. It's taking everything in herself to not cry, to not stand up and leave, ultimately accepting this now tarnished mother daughter relationship. “It's going to be okay Ana; I won’t be long I promise.” That does nothing for the grip she has on you. She tugs your sleeve a little more silently begging for you to come closer to her. She looks back to Natasha on the couch and back to you as she lowly whispers in your ear.

“I don't want mama to get mad at me again.”

“I won’t, I’m not angry with you, Ana.” Natasha finally stands up wiping her sweaty hands on her slacks and moves closer to you two. The distance has become too much, almost suffocating to her. “I was wrong for doing that to you.” She swallows the harsh lump in her throat. She can't believe this is the conversation she is going to have with Ana. “I know that scared you, and I’m sorry.”

“Why did you do it?” The question packs a heavy punch that also requires a heavy answer that Natasha will have to censor for her daughter to understand and to not be afraid of the information. “I didn’t know how to stop you from having a tantrum. I’m still learning how to be a good mom for you. I try every day.” You want to cut in now, you want to erase what just came out of her mouth. You want to interrupt and tell her that she is a good mother despite her bumps on the road. Despite this incident or another incident, she’s always redeemed herself from her past mistakes and learned from them. You choose to remain silent and tell her these exact words in private right now it is about her and Ana. “You know my father didn’t put me in timeout or use a countdown.” she chuckles dryly as if this was something even remotely funny. It isn't. A clear coping mechanism to her being vulnerable and open.

“What did he do?” Anastasia's curiosity piques interest. You on the other hand weren't sure if this was appropriate for Ana's ears no matter how hard Natasha wanted her to understand where her head was in that store when she struck her. She can't bring herself to say it; a flash of memories invades her mind as she stares blankly into the open room. You definitely were not leaving this room now that Natasha has opened this door. You clear your throat, combing your fingers through Ana's hair as a gentle way to put focus on you instead.

“He hurt mama, he hurt her very badly and treated her terribly.” At this newfound information Anastasia frowns deeply. The thought of someone hurting Natasha saddens her. She doesn't even know Alexei, you and Natasha, both made it a point to never have her in the same room as him. She releases your hand and finally walks towards Natasha's frozen figure. Natasha suddenly snaps out of it at the feeling of her jacket sleeve being tugged. Looking down she’s met with familiarity and comfort. Her daughter's eyes.

“I’m sorry you were hurt, mama.” Natasha allows herself to release her tears, taking on the emotions that she’s kept bottled up for years to finally overflow. “I'm sorry for hurting you.” She pulls Anastasia into a hug and mumbles the words on the side of Ana's face as she deeply inhales and exhales. She pulls back from the embrace tucking the left side of Ana's hair behind her ear. She holds an unwavering eye contact with the six-year-old. “I will never hurt you like that again, okay?” Natasha nods her head for certainty, and Anastasia quickly follows her lead. “Okay.”

“I'm sorry too, mama.” Natasha looks at her curiously. “What are you talking about?” Anastasia looks back at your figure and looks back to Natasha. “It wasn't very nice to scream in the store and throw things on the floor.” Natasha chuckles, seemingly having forgotten all about how the situation started in the first place, but she’s proud of her daughter for being aware of her wrongdoing. “You're right it wasn't a very nice thing to do.” Anastasia holds her head down in shame, she knows what she did was wrong she's just so used to getting her way that day threw her off. Natasha would never shame her for it. She's just a child after all, a spoiled child but most importantly her child. She nudges her index finger under Ana's chin gently tilting it up for eye contact.

“Hey, it's alright. Thank you for apologizing.” Natasha plants soft and quick kisses across Ana's face as she starts a fit of giggles. You watch the interaction with a soft smile finally able to release a breath with the way things turned out. But the brief eye contact shared with Natasha is not giving the same type of vibes, she knows you will want a much more detailed discussion later on. You allow Natasha to stay longer, you still take the opportunity to get away from her for a moment.

Tell Ana that you were still going to get her nuggets from the store and now that she’s not constantly worried about Natasha spanking her again, she’s barely paying attention to you and your movements. Of course, Natasha tries to keep you in the room offering to just go out to eat or order room service instead. She’s missed you both, staying in an empty home alone does damage to the mind when you are not used to it. You quickly shot down the idea of having a family dinner, at least until everything is settled between you two as far as parenting goes.

When you return with grocery bags you head straight for the kitchen, placing everything in its place. Looking around the room you can tell the two of them made up for a week's worth of time lost. Toys are spread across the floor and snack wrappers are littered on the coffee table. Natasha has just finished reading Anastasia, her favorite bedtime story. “She’s out like a light.”

“That’s good, she had a long day.” You walk back into the kitchen area not wanting to be near her and remaining hopeful that her phone will ring so she can leave. She came here to make amends with Ana, and she's done that. Natasha can sense it, the tension is back, small talk and keeping the conversation on Ana won’t smooth things other with you. Natasha sighs sitting down at the counter.

“Can we talk now? Or are you going to keep acting like I'm a stranger?” She nervously nibbles on her bottom lip seemingly ready for whatever you have to throw her way. “I’m not sure there is anything to talk about Nat.” you keep your back turned to her, not in the mood to truly unpack everything that she said to you. “You said a lot at home, and you seemed like you meant every word.” you quickly turn around to face her, she's still seated at the counter, your words strike her heavily. She made you feel like you were the problem, like you were the one that needed to take a step back and evaluate the life decisions for Anastasia to be more than what the two of you experienced.

“Anything else you want to get off your chest about the way I parent or encourage you to parent our daughter. See how I said, "Our daughter, I wouldn't want you to feel like she’s only mine.” you send her the most ferocious glare she's ever seen coming from you. you scoff opening the fridge, grabbing a beer and quickly taking a sip. You don't even like drinking beer, it was too cheap for your liking. “I was not thinking clearly, I didn’t stop to think about how that would affect her or you.”

“Clearly not, but you still had those underlying feelings and I-” Natasha abruptly stands up from her seat and makes her way around the counter slowly edging towards you. She doesn't even want to know what you were about to finish your sentence with because that scares her, losing you has always been a fear of hers and since having Ana, losing her own little family scares her even more. She entraps you between the counter and her body, both of her hands on both sides of the marble countertop. “How do I know that you won't do it again? How do I know that the next time she has a melt down and I'm not there with you, that you won't spank her again or God forbid something worse?”

“Because I'm not him, I'm not a product of what he wanted me to be, not when it comes to her and not when it comes to being a mom.” Natasha's face contorted in pain; she's trying to hold back. There is a subtle strain to her voice that only you can pick up on. She reaches into her pocket; you have forgotten about it, but it's been burning a hole into her expensive fabrics since she left home. she brings the polaroid out of her pocket and stares at it repeating the same words she just said to you. “I’m not him.”

“I'm not him.”

“I’m not-” You bring her into a strong and warm embrace, dealing with that trauma alone it couldn't have been easy. “I know, you're not.” You rub up and down her back soothingly. Natasha doesn't cry like this often so you stand there holding her for as long as she needs you too. Eventually she pulls back but not too far away from you your lips finally meet in a soft and affectionate kiss. An eagerness and hunger starts to rise the longer the kiss continues, Natasha being away from you and being so vulnerable has caused her to be touched-starved. Before things get heated you pull away no matter how bad you wanted to keep going there was still something that needed to be addressed and understood. “I won’t allow Anastasia to be around that type of environment. We've worked so hard to shield her from it and give her better, I need you to remember that the next time you feel like you're losing control over how she handles her emotions.”

“You're right.” she wipes away her tears nodding in agreement with everything that you've said this entire time. What would happen the next time this happens? The look of pure fear her daughter had just by being in the same room as her hits her like a ton of bricks. Natasha never wants her daughter to be afraid of her. She needs to shake away that form of discipline out of her mind. It's been installed into her brain since a child.

“You have to unpack your shit, Nat.” you tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear and as you pull away from her, she holds your hand against the side of her face. “I will, I promise.” She's avoided any form of therapy or comfort when dealing with her traumatic childhood and past. However, now it's gotten to the point where she can no longer avoid it, she needs to deal with this head on professionally but for now you'll hold her, for now you'll console her and applaud her for being brave enough to revisit the past trauma and admit her mistake. A change will be made for the better, she swears by it. She can deal with the world fearing her, she likes it, actually thrives off of other fear from just her presence but she draws the line at her daughter.

“I’ll start looking for a therapist tomorrow.”

[friendlyneighborhoodslut]

The Roommate Agreement | 2-The Chaos Theory.

Pairing(s)/Tropes—Eventual Steve Harrington X Reader, slow burn/friends to lovers.

Summary—Reader gets a taste of the chaos that comes with the boys of Apartment 406D, and they offer her the solution to her problems.

Warnings/Extras—Strong language, bad parents, bugs, drinking and smoking, brief bar fight and mild violence. Drunk people being dumb. Steve and Reader shamelessly flirting. Eddie’s his weirdo self (we love him though). MDNI, 18+! Let me know if I missed anything!

MASTERLIST | | PREVIOUS PART | | NEXT PART

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

The smell of bacon mixes with the faint drift of three separate colonges, wafting through the apartment. I sit up out of my brother’s bed, feeling guilty that I took his bed and he slept on the couch. At the foot of the bed, a pair of fuzzy pink sweats and a matching sweater sit folded neatly. They’re clothes from my closet back at the Dorm, and I can tell by the meticulous fold that it’s my brother’s doing. I’m questioning his methods, wondering if he’s secretly been able to teleport this whole time, when a familiar feminine laugh echos down the hallway.

I quickly change and tie my hair up, practically sprinting down the hallway to the kitchen.

Daizy sits at the bar counter, coffee mug in hand, chatting it up with the boys. Steve cooks breakfast while Ben sits shoulder-to-shoulder with Daizy, working on his laptop. Eddie is in the living room, cleaning up beer cans and pizza boxes from after I went to bed last night.

“Bug! How dare you not call me last night?!” Daizy perks up.

I shudder. “I thought we agreed to let that nickname die,” I complain. “How’d you even find out I was here?”

“That nickname dies with me. And I called her,” Ben says casually, not looking up from the screen.

I shove him a bit but he is unwavering. I take a seat next to him.

“Bug, huh?” A sly smile cracks Steve’s features as he flips a sunny-side-up egg onto a plate, pushing it across the counter over to me. Our eyes meet and my face grows hot. I take the plate from him, staring down at it, and I wonder how he knew I’ll only eat my eggs sunny-side-up.

Maybe he’s a witch. It’d explain why he’s so pretty.

“She hates bugs, loathes them,” Daizy teases. “Been that way since birth,”

Daizy and I are three months, eighteen days, four hours and fifty-three seconds apart. Our moms are—were—best friends since high school, all the way up until her mom passed away two years ago from breast cancer. It was terminal by the time they found it. It must’ve unlocked a part of Daizy’s brain I suppose was hidden all this time, because since her mother’s passing she’s been to the doctor for ‘precautionary checks’ every Monday, without fail. She’s obsessed with it, to the point she ceases to function right for the rest of the week if she misses her appointment. Her biggest fear used to be deep water, but I don’t think it is anymore.

Daizy and my brother swear up and down that I’ve been scared of bugs since I could walk, but I swear I don’t remember being afraid of them until I accidentally stomped on a fire-ant hill when I was 5. They were everywhere, in my hair and on my eyelashes. I could see them, red blobs with antennas and six—disgusting—little legs, clouding my vision. I’d had itty-bitty bites that stung like hell for weeks all over my body, and my vendetta against ants specifically was forged during that time.

“How’d you get my clothes?” I ask Daizy because, let’s be honest, it was most definitely her that pulled off the heist. She’s like some sort of criminal mastermind.

“Got your roommate’s car towed then snuck in while she was distracted,” she tells me casually, chewing on some bacon.

Ben and I don’t flinch at Daizy’s usual temperament, but Steve’s eyebrows raise in a dumbfounded expression.

Eddie laughs from the living room. “I like her.”

“Where are you gonna go? Obviously not back to the Dorms, placements over,” Daizy recalls how I’d just barely cut it for getting placed with a roommate, because I didn’t find out I’d been accepted until a few weeks ago.

I shrug. “I’ll get an apartment nearby. Cut school down to part time so I can work enough to afford it,” It sounds so easy in theory; better said than done.

“You are not sacrificing school. No way,” Ben’s voice is raised, agitated. We all turn to look at him. He rubs his temples. “I watched you spend most your life trying to get into a school like this. I can’t let you put it on the back burner now. Academics first,”

“Okay Dad,” I scoff, but as I look up at him, I realize how much he really does resemble our father. He’s got his nose and the way it flares when he’s upset, the same eyes that wrinkle in the corners because he’s always squinting in thought. Most of all, he’s got that same perpetual look on his face: disapproval, disappointment.

“What am I supposed to do, then?”

His resolve fumbles a bit. He peeks at Steve through his lashes, whom simply shrugs and vaguely gestures to Daizy and I. I furrow my brows as they exchange some sort of bizarre telepathic communication, until my brother speaks. “I—we—will figure it out. For now I’ve rented a storage unit for your stuff. Pest control’s gonna come by tomorrow and bomb it for bugs,” he reaches into the pocket of his blazer, pulling out a metal ring with three keys on it.

“More moving, just how I wanted to spend my weekend,” Daizy half-heartedly jokes.

“Shop’s closed today. I’ll help,” Eddie offers, joining us in the kitchen. He snags a strip of bacon off of Steve’s plate, earning him a mild-tempered grunt.

Ben gives Eddie a foreboding glare. “Behave yourself, Munson,”

He shrugs. “Don’t I always?” He winks at me, and I’m positive it’s mostly to piss off my brother.

“I’ve gotta go to work,” Steve announces, sliding his plate to Eddie before moving to grab his coat from the rack by the door. I find myself wondering what someone like him does for work. I wrack my brain, then wrack and wrack some more. Then I question why I even care so much.

“Hey, I’ll be down after work for a drink. I need to talk to you about something,”

They make eye contact and, there they go with that wordless conversation. It freaks me out but I try to disregard it, as it’s none of my business. Though I am morbidly curious.

Ben also throws on his coat and grabs his briefcase. I know he works for a local law firm as a pre-law intern. A cushy job with across the board benefits, tuition assistance and a generous salary. Some call it luck but I see it for what it is; that he worked his ass off for that job. I remember when he’d call me every night after his interview, anxiously awaiting their response. That was two years ago, and now he’s only a year away from taking the bar and becoming a practicing lawyer.

“Edward, listen to me,” Ben instructs, pointing at Eddie as he inhales his breakfast. He makes a Hmph? Noise, half paying attention. “Wear plastic around your feet. Don’t bring any of those damn things into the apartment.”

“Yes boss.” Eddie rolls his eyes, saluting him. I snort and Daizy giggles.

I shake my head. Ben’s the same old big brother I remember with the soul of an old man, except now he’s seemingly keeping this apartment full of 20-something boys from falling apart. It’s endearing but also makes my chest pang with resentment. He’s replaced taking care of his real family in exchange for these college students. Not that I hold any of it against them. How would they know?

The door closes behind Ben and Steve, plunging the room into silence with a deafening click.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

My brother must believe I own much more things than I actually do.

The massive storage unit sits mostly empty, an echo bouncing off its metal walls. I laid my books and clothes out on the concrete floor, just in case something decided to crawl into the crevices to hide. The thought makes me shudder and tense.

Eddie made crude joke about ‘finally seeing a girl’s underwear’, and while I’d typically be embarrassed, all I could do was laugh. His presence is a different level of infectious, like it’s impossible to be upset around him.

Luckily, Hailey was nowhere to be found while we were at the Dormitory. Class hasn’t started yet, so I’m left to assume she’s out looking for her next murder victim. Once the last box has been torn apart and the unit is locked down tight, Eddie drives us in his rickety van up to the University Housing office.

“Do you go to school here?” Daizy asks from the back seat.

Eddie laughs. “What, me? Hell no. I go to the DePaul across town,”

“The School of Music?” I inquire.

“The one and only,” he chortles.

“Gonna be a rockstar someday or what?” I joke.

“That’s the dream. Don’t worry, I’ll still write to you when I’m famous,” He jokes, parking in front of the administration building.

I stare at the front doors, the thought of crossing them daunting. Daizy reaches for me, squeezing my shoulder. ‘You’ve got this,’ she tells me silently, and I nod, unbuckling my frayed seatbelt and hopping out of the van.

There’s a singular woman at the desk, round face screwed up with annoyance. She doesn’t look up from her computer, and I cough awkwardly in hopes of getting her attention. She continues to type, unamused.

“Uh, hello?” It comes out ruder than I intend, and I cringe. She looks up at me through hooded, tired eyes. “I signed my housing contract a couple days ago but I need to move out. How do I go about doing that?”

She sighs loudly, rolling backward to grab forms off the desk behind her. She slaps the stack of papers in front of me. “You’ll need to provide ample reasoning for the contract termination. After we review we will determine how much of the semester you are financially liable for.”

“Financially liable? I don’t even live there,” I complain.

“It’s just like renting, sweetheart. You sign the contract, you pay the bill. You’ve got a week to bring all of these back.” She calls me sweetheart in that condescending, professional tone that makes my blood boil. I snatch the papers off the desk, forcing myself to be the bigger person and not glare at her. She is unbothered, turning back to her computer.

I storm back to the van with a scowl on my face and annoyance clouding my judgement.

“I take it that didn’t go well,” Daizy tests.

I groan, reaching behind me to show her the papers. She takes the stack from me. “What the fuck is this?”

“Bullshit, is what it is,” I tell her. Eddie extends his hand out to Daizy and she hands over the paperwork.

He scans it thoughtfully. “Don’t sign these. Talk to Benny about it first,” he tells me.

“I don’t need his help.” I scowl stubbornly, taking the papers back. I’ve learned my lesson in relying on people, and my brother is no exception to that. Besides, he’s helped me out enough. Daizy too.

Eddie opens his mouth to say something but his jaw snaps shut, an unreadable expression on his face. He silently puts the car in reverse, pulling out of the parking space.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

I scroll through job sites on my laptop, mass applying to anything and everything. I stopped reading the job descriptions and qualifications about thirteen applications ago. Something will stick, I’m sure of it.

Back home, I worked as a barista right out of high school. I had impulsively moved in with my boyfriend at the time a week after graduation, and I needed a job to pay the bills stat. The local coffee shop graciously hired me. The job stuck, the boyfriend did not. Good riddance.

But now I’m jobless and boyfriendless, the latter of which doesn’t really bother me.

I know Ben’s right, even if I’ll never admit it aloud. I spent two grueling years applying to UChicago; poured my heart out into admissions essays, paid insane application fees. And for—what? To give up now? It’s not an option.

Eddie sits across the room on a beanbag chair, plucking at his electric guitar, occasionally adjusting the amp.

“You’re much nicer than your brother, y’kow,” Eddie breaks the silence so suddenly it’s startling.

I peek up from the screen. He’s looking at me with adorning eyes, curiosity playing on his lashes.

“Thank you?”

“Why’s that?”

“Why’s what?”

He leans back “Why are you so much nicer than Benny?”

I shrug, closing my laptop. “He took the brunt of the force from our parents. He endured eighteen years of pure torture. I wasn’t really affected until I was sixteen, when he moved out,” I hug my laptop close to my chest. “I understood, then. Why he is the way he is. Just doing the best with what was given to him. I tried to be there for him, but it’s hard when you’ve got no idea what to do,”

The silence between us is palpable. Finally, he speaks. “Well, thank God for you then. He would’ve turned out much worse if you weren’t there to keep him straight.”

I never thought of it that way, I want to tell him, but the whole conversation’s got me so uncomfortable that I let it die instead. Despite the topic, and his obvious flirting throughout the day, I’m not unsettled by my alone time with Eddie. He’s got a charm to him, and I gravitate towards him in a platonic way. I imagine us as good friends, and I’m sure we would’ve been in any other circumstance. But he’s my brother’s roommate, not my friend, and I try to keep that in mind.

He claps his hands and stands abruptly. “Well, Sweetheart. I think you’ve had enough depression for the week. Time for some fun,” he reaches out to me, wiggling his fingers decorated in bulky silver rings.

“Don’t call me that,” I complain but take his hand, standing up with a grunt.

“Get dressed,” he instructs, ignoring me.

“With what clothes, exactly?” I gesture to my pajamas and beaten up sneakers I’d worn the entire day, my clothing still stuck in a storage unit downtown.

He thinks for a minute, then his eyes light up. He dashes down the hall, into his bedroom—the second door on the right—and comes out a couple minutes later with clothes thrown over his forearm.

“Here, try this on,” he extends his arm, a little black dress and hanging around it.

I look up at him. “Why do you have women’s clothes?”

“Would you believe me if I told you they’re my sister’s?”

“No.”

“Then you don’t wanna know.”

“You’re foul,” I giggle. “I’m not wearing that!”

“Alright, new plan then,” he tosses the dress onto the couch before digging into the pocket of his ripped jeans. Retrieving his beaten cellphone that clings to life, he holds it to his ear.

“Who are you—“ he cuts me off with a raised pointer finger in a ‘one minute’ gesture. I roll my eyes.

“Daizy. Yeah It’s Eddie,” my heart drops. “Hey listen. I’ve got a situation. No, she’s fine… but uh, we need a dress. Preferably a short one,” he says the last part as he glances at me, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

I bury my face in my hands to hide my embarrassment.

“Yup. Bring it all. You’re coming with us. See you in a bit. Buh-bye.” he hangs up, shoving the decimated phone back into his pocket.

“Why do you have Daizy’s number?” I cross my arms over my chest.

“Why do you ask so many questions?” He retorts. “Take a shower. I’m sure Benny wouldn’t mind you using his. Unless, of course, you’d like to share,”

I twist my face and lightly shove his shoulder. “Gross.”

He energetically hops off back to his bedroom, his exclamation echoing down the hall, “Get ready!”

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

The Hub is a temperate college bar tucked into the corner of a strip of small businesses with apartments above them. The bouncer lets us skip the line and doesn’t bother to check our IDs. He tells Eddie to enjoy himself but to watch out for the owner Gary. Whatever that means. There’s two pool tables on the back end and flat screen TVs sit on every wall, each streaming a different sport. The hardwood floor’s seen better days, the roughest part being around the bar at the center of the room. It’s a loud Friday night: music blasts and drunk people shout over each other. A group of guys badly sing a karaoke cover of ‘My Girl’.

Daizy and I walk hand-in-hand. I tug her along, following Eddie. The only way I don’t lose him in the crowd is to follow that giant head of hair he has, bobbing in and out of the masses. Finally, we reach the bar, and Eddie leaps onto someone wearing a long coat, wrapping his arms around their shoulders.

Ben jumps, startled, turning to look at us. His angry expression melts instantly and he sighs. “Jesus, you scared me. What’re you guys doing here?” He glances at Daizy and I, dresses short and low cut, heels dangerously tall and enough hairspray in our hair to suffocate someone. He rubs his temples. “What’re you wearing?”

Grumpy old man, I tease him in my head.

From behind the bar, Steve sets a beer in front of Ben. “Eddie, you know you’re banned from…” the words die on his lips as I step from behind Eddie. He tries—and fails—not to make it obvious that he looks me up and down. “Uh, hi,” he breathes. He looks so handsome, his hair combed back with a few stray strands tickling his forehead, dressed in blue jeans and a t shirt that hugs his chest, a bar towel flung over his shoulder.

My whole body sets on fire. I clamber up, feeling like the wind was knocked out of my lungs. What is happening to me? “Hi,” it’s a meek, pitiful nose, but he flashes me that award-winning grin anyways.

Eddie seems amused, cackling with the likeness of a hyena. Ben is obviously agitated. He grabs his beer off the bar, standing to catch Daizy’s wrist in his hands. He tugs her away and she gives me a look I can only describe as confusion and excitement mixed together.

“Just a PBR Stevie, then you can go back to staring at the pretty girl,” Eddie teases, leaning on the counter.

Steve peels his eyes off of mine to glare at him. “You’re a pain in the ass,” he complains, reaching under the counter and retrieving a can. He cracks it open, cheap beer splattering them. “If Gary asks, Joey served you. He doesn’t know you’ve been 86’d.”

“Request beers from Joey. Got it.” He makes a mental note, cheers-ing us before disappearing into the crowd as well.

I watch Eddie leave and when I look back at Steve, he's already looking at me, propped against the bar. A surge of bravery rattles through my chest and I sit in front of him. The space between us is minuscule now, the scent of his cologne leaving an intoxicating haze in our shared air.

He takes a deep breath, chest swelling. "What can I get you?"

I shrug. "Didn't bring my ID. I think it's still in the storage unit being debugged," I say with a bitter laugh.

"Don't worry about it," he chuckles, filling a glass with ice. "December 14, 1995. 12:14 AM," he recalls, pointing a finger at me.

My heart drops into my stomach. "How do you..?" I can't even finish my sentence. Just my luck, the beautiful one's a stalker.

He chuckles. "He talks about the day you were born like it was the best day of his life," he nods behind me and I spin on the stool. Ben is flirting with Daizy, carefully brushing her curls off her shoulder. I compress my grin into a tight smile, looking back at Steve.

“Tequila Sunrise. Make it a double, please,”

“Huh. I struck you as a vodka girl. House fine?” He tests, shaking the blue bottle of house tequila in his hand. I nod, infatuated as I watch him move.

Get it together.

He slides the drink across the bar, shit eating grin on is face. “Tell me; does tequila make you mean or melt your clothes off? I’m cool with either, just wanna be prepared,”

Is he… flirting with me?

I snort and cover the lower half of my face with my hand. “Oh, God. Does that usually work on girls?”

His smile is so bright. Even under the dim lighting and tacky disco lights from the karaoke machine, I can see the light in his chocolate eyes. He props himself up against the back bar, muscles tensing as he looks down at me. Suddenly all the stories Ben’s told me of his Freshman year Dorm roommate turning out to be his best friend that saved him from himself make total sense. Steve’s comforting in a familiar way, like the second you’ve met him you feel like you’ve known him for years.

“Is it working?” He asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I haven’t been flirted with since high school and, in all honesty, I’m kind of freaking out. Made worse by the fact this is my brother’s best friend and roommate, I decide I need to tread lightly despite what the burn between my legs and the pounding in my chest begs.

“Is it?” I tease.

His eyebrows raise and he lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “You look great tonight, by the way,” he compliments.

I sip my drink, the burn of cheap liquor on my tongue. “Thanks. It was Eddie’s idea,” I admit. Why would I say that? I internally cringe.

“Sounds like him…”

“Hey,” I lean forward, not noticing the way my boobs spill out of the top of this dress. Steve’s face twists a bit and he looks anywhere but me. “Does Eddie have a sister?”

“No?” Steve replies, bewildered.

“Son of a bitch,” I whisper. I knew it. Disgusting.

“Why do you…” he trails off, looking over my shoulder, a concerned look on his face. I spin around again, groaning when I see Eddie going back and forth with a burly man. Round beer belly and a beard to his chest, the guy’s got a hundred pounds on Eddie easily. “Ah, shit.” I hear Steve exasperate behind me.

Without thinking I stand up. Steve calls my name but I ignore him. The men begin shoving each other. I spot Daizy and Ben dancing in the crowd, pacing towards them as fast as these heels will allow me. I whistle and Daizy’s head snaps in my direction. I point frantically at Eddie and her face falls. Once I’ve confirmed they’re following me, I dash to Eddie and the man.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be up on random girls at the bar, jackass!” The man shouts, shoving Eddie hard. There’s a little redhead in a red skirt and tube top watching the two men argue, arms awkwardly folded across her chest. Oh boy. What’ve you gotten yourself into now, Eddie?

Eddie raises his arms, palms forward in surrender. “My bad Lumberjack John, I'll back off,"

“You son of a—“ he raises his fist.

“Hey!” I pull Eddie back a bit but shield my body with his in case the man decides to swing. I’m not getting punched for Eddie’s endeavors, that’s for sure. “I’m so sorry about my friend here, he’s a little,” I pretend to shield my mouth from Eddie’s view, breathing the words stupid to the man. “He gets confused easily. It’s my fault, I should’ve been watching him closer,”

“I’m not—“ Eddie starts.

“Eddie!” I cut him off just as Ben makes it to us. "Stop talking," I instruct sternly.

Ben pulls Eddie back with force, shoving him behind us.

“Let’s all calm down okay?” Ben attempts to defuse.

"Your buddy's got no business talkin' to my nineteen-year-old daughter. What're you, thirty?" the man spits.

"Daughter?! Nineteen?!" Eddie turns green, and I think he might vomit. He doesn't bother to correct the man and tell him he's actually 23.

You've done it now, idiot.

"How'd you even get in here?" I snap, looking from her to her father. His face is pale. "Did you sneak your teenage daughter into a bar?!"

Completely unprovoked--or maybe my question caused it, not that we're pointing fingers here-- the man lunges for Ben, landing a solid right hook to his jaw. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Steve leap over the bar and begin a dash towards us.

The daughter leaps towards me, punching me square in the eye.

Now if you've never been knocked straight in the eye socket, the feeling is incomprehensible until it's happened to you. A pain so intense it makes you sick. It knocks me to the floor, the air sucked out of my lungs like a deflated Whoopee Cushion.

The Hub doesn't take long to devolve into utter chaos, food flying and punches thrown. Strangers fighting just because someone else started it. I've never been in a bar brawl until now. I know it's loud but I can barely hear it, my ears ringing as I lay feeling dead on the floor.

My head is killing me.

A man in white scoops me up off the floor.

An Angel. Goddammit, I'm dead. Always knew I'd die in a stupid way.

"You're alright, Sunny. I got you." Steve's voice is deep and hushed, his lips practically pressed into my hair as he whispers only for me to hear.

Funny. I don't remember him wearing white.

My ears still ring, so I think he says Honey instead of Sunny, and it makes me laugh because I imagine I'm the opposite of something sweet. Disappointing, like when you bite into a chocolate chip cookie and it's actually oatmeal raisin.

He must wonder why I'm laughing. If I don't die, then I'll have to let him in on the joke.

The air is cold and dark. We're outside. I'm loaded up into a car I don't recognize, but it smells like a mix of Steve's cologne and aged leather. Steve hands the keys to Daizy. I know it's her because, despite my blurry vision, I can still make out her sequin dress.

I focus really hard on staying awake, recalling that when at risk of a concussion, to not fall asleep.

Do not fall asleep.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

I lay my head on Daizy's lap as she presses a sack of frozen peas on my swollen eye. The expired painkillers she'd dug out of Ben's medicine cabinet do very little to soothe the sharp pain in my skull.

Trying desperately to think of anything but the fiasco at the bar, I fail miserably. I can only imagine what kind of crap Steve's got to deal with because of us. Ben tells me that Steve’s actually the manager at the Hub, and that this isn’t the first time Eddie’s gotten into trouble there. It’s a bad look for Steve, made worse by Ben and I’s involvement.

Eddie sits in the beanbag chair picking at his nails anxiously. Ben holds a bag of frozen broccoli to his jaw, glaring at Eddie from the couch by my feet.

"You fuckin' idiot," Ben snipes.

Eddie surrenders. "I didn't know she was nineteen!"

"You called him a Lumberjack, Ed!"

The door opens and shuts quickly. I sit up too fast and my head swirls. Daizy holds my head--which feels far too large for my neck--in her hands.

Steve tosses his jacket on the coat rack. He stares at us, hands on his hips. "Well, I fired the doorman. Thank you, Eddie," he says bitterly.

Granted, the bouncer should've never let a teenager slip into the Hub, but I still feel guilty.

Steve joins us in the living room, leaning over the sofa to rough up Ben's hair. "How's your face?"

"Feels like I just got punched," Ben groans.

Steve's eyes shift to me. He leans in a bit, gently taking the peas out of Daizy's hand and lifting them off my eye. He grimaces. "Nasty shiner, Sunny. You’re trouble, y’know that? It follows you,”

Sunny. Not Honey. I still don't get it.

His closeness makes me nervous. I try to think of something to say to ease the tension, pressing the frozen vegetable to my skin, making it tingle. “Deterministic Chaos Theory,” I mumble sleepily.

“The—What now?” Eddie wonders aloud.

“Small changes can be exponentially amplified, causing large and unpredictable consequences,” I define, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. “An environment can be rewritten by what is essentially Butterfly Effect. Learned about it in my pre-reqs.”

“Could’ve just said Butterfly Effect,” Ben complains. “You just wanted to sound smart.”

I kick him lightly. He flinches and chuckles.

"How are you feeling?" Daizy asks.

I swallow. "Pissed. I didn't get to finish my drink,"

Everyone shares a laugh at that.

"I'll make you plenty more while you stay here." the words come out of Steve's mouth so casually that I assume I didn't hear him right. My eyes bulge out of my head as I look around. Eddie gives me a massive smile, one of many I’ve gotten form him today, clapping his hands together. My eyes fall on my brother.

He shrugs. "We've got Jesse’s old room. It's yours, if you want it." Jesse must be the fourth guy that used to live here, his unoccupied bedroom at the end of the hall.

My jaw hits the floor, a prickling pain searing under my skin. The idea sound preposterous at first, three boys and a girl in one old apartment, but then I realize I’m in no position to decline and they’re doing me a favor. “Are you guys serious?”

“As a heart attack, Sweetheart,” Eddie jests. Steve plays with his hair and nods giddily.

Ben says ‘don’t call her that’ just as I say ‘don’t call me that’, prompting us to look at each other.

“We’re not letting you go back to the Dorms or letting you drop classes. Besides, we need someone to pay Jesse’s rent if we wanna keep living here,” Ben lightens the mood with a joke but I can tell he’s dead serious by the look in his eyes.

I crane my neck to look back at Daizy. She smiles big, nodding. You should do it, I swear I can hear her voice in my head.

Everyone’s eyes are on me. It makes me uncomfortable and I squirm, mulling over my answer. This feels a lot like being reliant on others, which is something I refuse to do. Not that I’ve got much of a choice, the alternatives far worse than the option in front of me. What’s the worst that could happen? I purse my lips together and nod. “Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

“You heard her boys!” Eddie stands up, leaping over the coffee table and pouncing on Steve. “There’s a lady in Apartment 406D!” He wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders, attempting to pull him onto the ground. Ben scolds them both. ‘Better knock it off before you break something’, or something like that. I’m not paying attention, just watching them wrestle like twelve year olds in the dim lamplight.

As we sit there in our natural element, I realize this is what my life is like now for the foreseeable future. It’ll be tough for sure. I’ve never lived with a man I wasn’t related to, let alone this many at once. I’m outnumbered, predicting that I’ll be begging Daizy to come up to Chicago to give me a reprieve from all the boy in this house.

Despite my reservations, I smile at the trio as they argue about something unbeknownst to me.

There are far worse ways to spend my days.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

**I edited this intoxicated, pls let me know if I missed anything**

Wanna be tagged? Just ask!

Tag list—

@spookysace24

[arliedraws]

I've seen your posts about AI. I also know it's a pretty polarizing topic and what the majority opinion is, especially in regards to art and writing. And being an artist myself, I totally agree that it sucks, like you have to pay attention and all, but.... I hardly dare to say this because I know how emotional the discourse around AI is, especially on a platform like tumblr, which sometimes seems so strong that I don't participate in a discussion about this topic at all because I feel like people here would hound me for it, but I still use different AI software, but not in the way that I use it to create something that I can publish and pretend that I spent hours creating it myself. I think it can be really helpful.

If I need information about something quickly, it's more efficient than spending a lot of time searching different websites for a particular piece of information.

I also like to think of it as a group member when I'm working on projects. That doesn't mean that I get the ideas from it and then just copy them. In the same way that group work is beneficial, you pass the ball to each other with the AI and exchange ideas that you can then develop further. Or it can help you if you're looking for another word to describe something better, like a dictionary. And I still know how to use real dictionaries or do proper research, because I know that AI can make mistakes and you shouldn't believe everything. Just like it is with information from the internet in general. Anyway, now I come to the actual “confession”, which is that I also use it, not to let the AI create the art, but as a tool to help myself creating it. I usually use reference images for drawings to help me get the scene itself or the anatomy correct etc. Andy capture it properly. But sometimes I have a very specific scene in mind and can't find a suitable reference, and it can take me hours to find something that fits. So I like to use AI to create that reference for me, because unfortunately I don't have people modeling for me and personally it helps me extremely to have examples to work from.

Idk where exactly I'm going with this. But since the general opinion on generative ai seems very clear here, I wanted to finally get this off my chest because I always kept my moth shut being afraid of how others might react, even though I think that my methods are still quite legitimate, as I still do the real work myself. Anyway, I'm looking forward to your opinion.

Ahhhh okay, well, thanks for the vulnerability here.

You know my opinion on AI. I’m not going to tell you you’re a terrible person or anything for using it, but I’m also not going to justify your personal decisions. Instead, I invite you to change your perspective.

My opinion is this—and it’s more of a question: why are you creating the art? I’m going to hit a few of your main points and just pose questions because I think this gets to be more philosophical than a cut-and-dry “if you use AI, you are a bad guy.” Because I don’t think that—I also don’t think you should use it.

The reason I don’t blame people for being attracted to using AI is because as human beings, we’re designed to find the most efficient way to do things. Thinking and using creativity is a huge caloric expenditure. Right? Naturally, we’re attracted to ways that things can be done FOR us and reduce our cognitive load. Your brain is working as it was designed! But this is also a really cool way to take away your voice and mold you into someone who cannot think for themself.

(This is also what you’re doing by “confessing” to me. You’re unloading your cognitive/emotional burden so you can keep on doing the thing you know is probably a bit shady.)

First of all, I don’t know you, so I don’t know what your art training is. However, you need to train your brain to start coming up with stuff on your own. I am really sorry, but I don’t buy the “I don’t have enough references.” When there are free resources like Unsplash.com and even just looking at buildings around you, the furniture in your house, etc, you DO have the references. But you need to learn how to use them. This is a tool.

Second thing, if the reference isn’t exactly what you need, then you need to start learning volume and shapes. You need to study anatomy. Eventually, you will be able to look at a reference and understand how perspective works and be able to transform a reference in your head to what you need. OR - start combining references. If I’m doing a full scene, I probably have about 5-6 reference photos I’m working from. This is a tool.

Third, start taking photos of yourself for reference images. If you can’t find what you need, do that. I periodically have to go into my camera roll to delete the god-awful reference poses for myself. This is a tool.

Fourth, start a collection of things that “strike you.” Start a reference blog. Have a folder filled with images that intrigue you. Personally, I take an insane number of photos when I’m traveling. For example, I went to a mansion for a tour and took photos of all the early 20th century objects and rooms so I would have these in my arsenal. This is a tool.

My fundamental question is this—why are you having an algorithm create what’s in your head for you? Why not learn how to do these things instead? Your imagination is so cool. The process of creating is making happy mistakes. What do you think Bob Ross would say to you? When you use AI, you’re just copying. The imaginative part has been done for you. You’re just a tool of the robot.

We do so much to avoid frustration, but frustration is the part of creating. When we can see the skills we need to learn, that’s how we know we’re improving. It means you’re trying, and when you press through that discomfort, that’s when you grow. Stop seeing this as a block to your end goal but as an opportunity to continue your infinite journey as an artist. Celebrate that there are so many beautiful things to learn.

Additionally, please don’t see AI as a group project. A group project indicates that all parties involved consent to participate, and I know most artists do not want their art to be used in this way. Imagine if you learned to do all the things I’ve described above and taken time/years/frustration/love to develop these skills, and someone years later then took your work and said “It’s okay - we ALL contributed to this.” It’s just not true.

The artists you see online don’t simply sit down and draw a bunch of cool stuff without practice. I watch Youtube videos of professionals. I draw a gazillion sketches of just MOUTHS or hands so I can create my own references in my mind. Why would you deprive yourself of this?

Look, I think it comes down to this: if you’re looking for efficiency and ‘getting it done’ quickly, then why are you doing it? Are you enjoying the process? If you aren’t, why are you even doing it?

If you need a robot to imagine something for you, then you don’t actually want to do it.

[meltedbluecaterpillar]

Leona Kingscholar - Smut Alphabet

A/N: These are my personal thoughts and Headcanons. You don’t have to agree with me. The original alphabet is here.

A - Aftercare = (what they're like after sex)

Leona may seem like he doesn't give a damn but I promise he does in his own way.

He will press kisses all over your face and make sure you're okay. This is a rare situation where he makes you something to eat. He doesn't ask Ruggie! Mostly because this is intimate between the two of you, involving someone else feels strange... He will give you a wipe down if you need it but his animal brain says he should use his tongue. But he won't.

He is a gentleman and a prince and he knows to be polite even if he appears to be an asshole. But Leona is expecting you to clean him up too. It goes both ways baby!~!

B - Body Part = (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners.)

Leona's favorite body part of his isn't actually a body part. It's his hair. He takes good care of it and he loves the feeling of your hands running through it. Twirling a finger around one of his braids or even when you tug on it during sex. He loves it a lot it makes him horny when you play with his hair. Or even just more in love with you than you might expect.

His favorite part of you is your mouth. How your lips get puffy and wet from kissing. Your frowns, your smiles, your nubby teeth, your pink tongue. The words that leave it and of course the things he puts inside. Leona loves getting head from you, he won't say it. But he is expecting it every time he sees you.

C - Cum = (anything to do with cum basically)

Leona says he doesn't want kids constantly but he is allergic to the pullout method. He is a beastman, it's hardwired within his brain to mate and mount. It feels much better when he finishes inside.

If you do dislike it (beastmen/fae/mermen don't tend to believe in condoms due to genitalia differences and its a hassle. Also most men just don't like condoms) Leona will agree to cum on your skin. He prefers that little spot just below your belly button and he lazily just drops his cock against you. How naughty.

D - Dirty Secret = (a dirty secret of theirs)

Leona will take this to the grave. Or maybe he'll tell you years later if he feels comfortable. But... He does like breeding. With the intent to make a baby.

He cannot fight his instincts to mate and breed and he despises it less than he claims. Leona loves you a lot and he does adore his nephew. And the moment you dote on Cheka he suddenly starts picturing little versions of the two of you.

Leona would never force you to have his baby. And even if it isn't physically possible between you two he would love to adopt. But he can't tell you this stuff. You'll get sappy and gross, mentioning how big his heart actually is. He can't stand it.

E - Experience = (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

Leona is a very handsome man but he was raised as a gentleman first. I like to imagine maybe when he went home during a break he had an entanglement with a servant or maybe there was a 'Royal Bedwarmer' hired. But I don't think he's a virgin. Honestly with all of his confidence I would be shocked. But he's also not an idiot and he is very good at asking indirectly to get the things he might want from you.

So he'll try different positions with you, teasing you with a smirk or even mumbling in your ear; asking if it's good for you. If you like it or if you would feel even better in a different position. He does read books and watch porn with humans in it. A beastman body isn't the same as a human's. Not quite. But he learns quick. Leona is a prodigy after all.

F - Favorite Position = (exactly what it says)

Save a horse, ride a lion.

Leona is a professional when it comes to getting out of doing something that requires him to put in unnecessary effort. He loves when you crawl into his lap and ride him. Giving him the perfect view of your face when you roll your hips and steady your hands on his abdomen for support. Even when you get tired and lay against him, it's perfect for him to hold you in place as he jerks into you. Feet planted on the bed as he makes you take him all the way.

Reverse cowgirl is good too, but he would rather see your face and how you look so in love as you orgasm.

G - Goofy = (are they more serious in the moment? are they more humourous?)

I think Leona can have a little laugh during sex. But it's very uncommon. It can be a mood killer or distracting so the sex won't even be something he's interested in anymore.

He can move things along just fine, but if you're goofing around too much he'll end up going soft.

H - Hair = (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes?)

Leona is a beastman so shaving isn't really something he think's about. My Leona that lives in my mind tends to have stubble. A scratchy face that tickles you when he kisses you. If he has to attend something important he will shave but usually he has a little facial hair.

Below the belt? Again he is a beastman. Shaving is pointless. He does have a nice dark happy trail unless he decides to shave/he's in the mood/you dislike the amount. He doesn't let it get unruly but Leona never minded having a ton of hair. So he lets it grow until he thinks it's too much or if you tell him you don't like how much of it there is.

I - Intimacy = (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect?)

Leona can be such a Cupid, it's unexpected. Usually he's viewed as rough and carnal but Leona seems very into closeness. This doesn't mean you only get slow lovemaking with Leona, he can give it to you however you want.

You prefer roughness? Of course my liege. He'll give it to you in the nastiest way possible. His hand around your throat as he belittles you. A weak willed Herbivore. Some cheap bitch he snagged off a corner during a night drive. You're just free hole, so moan and cry and show him a good time. (If it gets to be too much, he'll stop at any point!~!)

I personally like a softer Leona. He rubs his hands all over your body as he whispers in your ear. Telling you how good you make him feel. His cock buried inside with slow ruts of his hips. How attractive you are and how he's so happy to have you all to himself. Kissing your face and maybe a gentle bite or two.

J - Jack Off = (masturbation headcanon)

Leona will masturbate if he's in the mood but it's not often if he has you around. Why use a toy or his hand like some Neanderthal when you have a perfectly good mouth he can put to use? Of course if you deny him he will pout and sulk... But he will retreat. You'll end up with a short string of frustrated messages of him telling you that he's horny and what he wants to do to you.

K - Kink = (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding (because Mother Nature has cursed him) and power play. Please, lower your torches and pitchforks I can explain.

Power play is something that does require a lot of trust exercises. It falls under a form of BDSM but it's the very top layer. I see Leona's preferences falling under him being in charge in one way or another. He was always overlooked and second best so in the bedroom he get's to be your king. He likes when you submit to him sexually, or even 'forcing' you to submit. Brat taming would be somewhere on his list but he prefers you face down ass up, telling him how badly you need it. No fight necessary. Since you love him so much, of course you want to offer up your hole.

L - Location = (favorite place to do the do)

He loves the Botanical Garden's or his room. His dorm or at the palace. Leona is very possessive over you in his own way. I do think that Leona would be very irritated with someone watching so he tries to pick very secluded spots. Everyone knows the Botanical Garden's is his favorite place. So Leona will lure you there with a flick of his tail and soft promises for a good time. Quickly folding you in half with your feet facing the sky. Only the flowers and moss know what kind of naughty things happened in there...

His bedroom is also just his favorite place to be regardless. He has a very big bed. His scent is on everything and he likes it when you're wrapped up in his sheets with him. There could be a circumstance where he catches someone watching and he might entertain. But only if you don't seem to mind it. You come first.

M - Motivation = (what turns them on, gets them going?)

Lions are actually very social creatures. But Leona is a big loner type. When you show him you're interested in being closer, just twirling a finger in his hair or sitting on his lap... It makes him excited. The thought of you being interested in his company is what get's him going.

Even if your intentions are innocent and you just like being around him or touching he can't help the way it makes his cock throb in his pants.

N - No = (something they wouldn’t do, turns offs)

Leona does not share. So do not ask him. The idea of a threeway or anything like that pisses him off. "Am I not enough?" It's a big ego bruising for him since his whole life he's played No. 2. He would be okay with magically cloning himself and giving you that kind of fantasy. But if you mention wanting to bring in Malleus or Vil he most likely would break things off with you.

Lions in the wild are polyamorous yes. But Leona is a greedy man.

O - Oral = (preference on giving or receiving, skill, ect.)

Leona loooooves when you gag and spit all over his cock. How it juts against the side of your cheek and how you have to stroke what you can't swallow. He holds the back of your head to mindlessly guide you or he'll just grab you and piston in and out of your throat. Making you enjoy the taste of his thick sperm on your tongue. If he's in a bad mood; he;'ll pinch your nose and stop you from breathing. Forcing you to swallow it all down.

Leona will give you oral if he's in the mood. Or if you're confident making a suggestion that you would like it. His tongue is rougher than a human's so that is part of the reason he hasn't tried. He isn't skilled in giving because he has had a single partner before you. And that didn't require him to reciprocate service. But that doesn't mean he can't figure it out. Leona will surprise you one day by offering you a 'reward' of some kind. One that requires you to take your pants off.

P - Pace = (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

Leona usually has you riding him, so you would set the pace. He does have a preference for faster strokes that rub against your insides and make you scream. But he won't mind following a request of yours.

But there are times where he does what he wants. He could punish you with slow deep strokes that drive you insane or he treat you roughly while rewarding you with something aggressive.

Q - Quickie = (their opinions of quickies, how often, etc.)

He likes them but not as an often thing. Leona will try to mount you when he's in the mood, and you're free to do the same. Sex isn't always something that involves romance.

Humans are technically animals to. The urge to fuck is just something that happens.

R - Risk = (are they game to excitement? do they take risks, etc.)

Leona will listen to your requests and ideas but he is firm with whatever answer he gives you if he views it as unsafe in anyway. He will lightly choke you and manhandle you, but he isn't going past that violence wise in bed. He cares about you a lot and also he is a prince with a shitty enough reputation. Being caught fucking in an odd place is something he is conscious of. As often as Leona says he does what he wants; he isn't stupid.

S - Stamina = (how many rounds can they go for? how long can they last?)

Lions have great stamina but Leona is a depressed person. So we need to be realistic. I think he would be satisfied with 1 or 2rounds before going to bed. Lots of foreplay.

However if he is in a rut that will change. He is insanely horny regardless of his usual stamina and the number grows and grows. I would say maybe... 6 to 8 rounds? You are a human and that kind of exhaustion can be unbearable. By rounds, I do mean times Leona can orgasm before starting again. So it doesn't have to be penetration, but you have to keep up if you offer to help him out one of the days. Tapping out can be very difficult when a beastman is out of it. Be careful.

T - Toys = (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themself?)

This was inspired by a friend but Leona is rich. Unlimited money hack. I think he would have maybe two different fleshlights. One he bought so he didn't have to use his hand like some cave man. The second one is custom to be modeled after you. The same skin tone and everything. He does of course have lube, and he isn't against using it. But the kind that heats up. Adding a newer stimulation that's wet and hot. Very arousing.

He would buy you a toy if you asked him. But he also wants to see what it is. And Leona wants to use it on you. A lion dildo? Barbs and all? Leona will work it in and out of you until you can't take it anymore. You wanted it so badly, make good use of it.

U - Unfair = (how much they like to tease)

Leona loves to tease you. Your reactions are so, so yummy. He isn't the type to beat around bush for something he wants. So he'll tell you directly with a low growl how he wants to split you open like a fresh peach.

He does like when you become needy, pawing at him and making suggestive comments. Leona sees how hungry you are for some adult intimacy and he likes making you wait for it until he's ready. Just because he's an asshole.

V - Volume = (how loud are they? what sounds they make, etc.)

Lions in the wild will roar while mating. They do this to tell other males to stay away! A form of possessiveness. I think Leona starts quiet and he does have the ability to be quiet, but depending on his mood he may stop caring.

He loves knowing that he's the one that makes you feel good. No one else can do what he can. Leona moans in your ear, grunts and growls, very 'beastly' when he's on top of you. In a situation where you're riding him, he usually will throw his head back into the pillow and tell you how much he loves you bouncing in his lap. But he isn't very chatty normally.

W - Wild = (a random headcanon on the character)

Leona has a preference for a human partner. But he really isn't picky. He does watch porn and usually his searches are related to his own species but one day he stumbled upon 'Lion x Human' videos.

He hasn't been with a human prior to you so it was a little shocking for him to see. Of course, it's all acting but interspecies dating isn't something that usually happens. So when he watched the video he didn't know that humans liked this or that. So after getting some Post Nut Clarity he realized he had an attraction to humans over his own species. He wants to see those faces and learn about there erogenous zones. He loves the contrast between himself and a human and how different yet so compatible your bodies are.

It's erotic to think about...

X - X-ray = (lets see whats going on under those clothes)

A wise man once said; "If his dick slaps his thigh when he walks, I shall listen when he talks.

Leona doesn't realize he's that big because he's lived with that monstrosity since forever. It's nice and big, too big honestly. A pleasant thickness that stretches you with a delicious soreness. Barbs lining his length in a uniform pattern that rub and stimulate your insides until your almost screaming from pleasure.

At first you balked at the size. Shaking your head in refusal at the idea of trying to force something like that inside of you. But you were pleasantly surprised by Leona's dedication towards something he actually wants.

Y - Yearning = (how high is their sex drive?)

I put on my nerd glasses for this one. So lions have their mating season in the 'cooler and wetter season'. Which is late November until about February? Lions live in the savannah so they don't have to worry about snow of course. Lions also will mate on occasion through the year but they can copulate up to 50 times a day. Every 20 to 30 minutes they're fucking.

Leona is a beastman so lets shrink that number down. I think that Leona has a moderate drive, it was very low in the past since he had no interest in that sort of thing before you came into his life. Now he does enter a rut, but he's not a crazy monster for a week. Think of it like... Leona is doing the male version of ovulation from late November until Valentine's Day.

He rubs his head against you and bites your cheek. Pawing at your chest and rubbing his hips against your ass, telling you how badly he wants to be inside of you. But after February it's like nothing ever happened. Leona is cured.

Z - Zzz = (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Leona has no reason to stay awake once you say you're fine. Sex is exhausting enough, nap time is required. Lions are very social and shockingly cuddly big cats so he wants to sleep beside you. He won't mind staying up and talking for a bit but he's ready to rest and pull you close.

The first strike is him turning so his back faces you if you won't shut up for the night. The second is him commanding bed time. The final strike is a walk of shame back to Ramshackle.

But he would rather have you stay in bed with him. He won’t be interested in a shower depending on the situation but he will wipe you down if you need to.

[justwinginglife]

This Time, It's Different

Dedicated to the only person who will read this, my bestie @minasfwoopyponytail, yall I know I be doin Soshiro all the time, but I got on the Ranpo track cuz we were talking about Ranpo being in our top favs for BSD so I gotta show him some love today (I am so sorry that I bought Chuuya, Dazai, and Akutugawa merch and forgot about you Ranpo my love, this is my apology fic for you).

You were never good at lying. 

It was inconvenient in almost all aspects of your life, but you never thought your ineptitude would be the reason someone finally fell in love with you.

After many failed attempts at bending the truth, after attempting to tell your aunt you liked the socks she got for your birthday and instead unknowingly wrinkling your nose at them and breaking her heart, after attempting to tell your boss that you were busy and couldn’t come to work on a Saturday and when she asked follow up questions about your supposed plans you found yourself flushed and floundering, after attempting to tell your ex that you enjoyed meeting his family but then immediately declining any further interaction with them, after multiple awkward interactions and even more disastrous encounters, you decided to give up on lying. It wasn’t for you.

So you resigned yourself to the fact that you would have to tell nothing but the whole, honest truth for the rest of your life. Your lackluster lies may cause catastrophe otherwise. 

So when you joined up with the Armed Detective Agency, when you rejected Dazai’s advances by saying, “No offense Dazai, but I’m sure you say that to all the ladies, and while I’m flattered, I’m not into womanizers,” when you offered methods of stress relief to Kunikida because he “always looked like the world was ending,” when you asked when Furukawa would be retiring because you were concerned about him “overworking himself in his old age,” when half the detective agency was against you from your first day, Ranpo Edogawa found himself half in love with you already. 

He’d never met a person who didn’t -or just couldn’t- lie, even among his fellow coworkers, and he was at least intrigued by you if nothing else. He found himself eager to see just how far you were willing to go to continue telling the truth. 

Going forward, you often found him tagging along on missions with you, peeking over your shoulder while you worked, listening to everything intently, even despite your other coworkers telling you that Ranpo almost never went out of his way to be this personally invested in anything, just because he wanted to hear you talk, to see if you really told everyone everything you thought all the time. And to ask you questions. Lots of questions. 

Most of them were controversial because he wanted to see if you’d stick to your opinions even if you were in the minority, some of them were philosophical because he wanted to know the way your mind worked, and a few of them were just downright absurd because he was Ranpo. 

“Okay. So. You want to know if I would divert the trolley to save the lives of five by killing one?”

“Yes, and when you’re done with that, do you think that dress makes that girl’s butt look fat?”

“Mr. Edogawa, sir, I really don’t see how this is relevant to the case.”

“Oh it’s relevant, alright. Answer the question, I’m your superior and I wanna know.”

“Um. Alright. Well clearly it makes more logical sense to sacrifice the life of the one for the good of the many, just mathematically speaking, and yes, that dress is very unappealing on her, I don’t know why she went with white.” 

“Agreed, the white is hideous, you pass my tests. For now.”

And so this bizarre relationship of yours continued.

Ranpo would wait for you to finish up cases, would wait for you to finish in the bathroom, would wait for you to finish up dinner, just so he could pick your brain, just so he could amuse himself with your answers. But the more time he spent with you, the more his reason changed for spending the time. He was always attentive, had always had a keen eye, but when you were around, it seemed every last bit of his attention had devoted itself to you. He knew how long it took for you to finish going to the bathroom, so -much to your embarrassment- he always knew what you were doing in the bathroom depending on the length of time. He knew how long it took for you to eat and which foods took you longer amounts of time to eat them. He knew when it was your time of the month, he knew what you craved during said time, he knew the way you’d react when he brought you said craving. He knew almost everything about you and it still wasn’t enough. 

One day, he diverted from his usual barrage of insane questions and he started asking about you: what was your favorite food, where were you born, did you have any pets growing up, what did you like to do outside of work? By now, you had gathered from all his previous questions that he was just having fun interrogating you, but you enjoyed talking with him, so you answered all his questions regardless, personal or otherwise. You were unsure how telling him your favorite color was supposed to entertain him the way his usual ridiculous questions did, but you told him it was green anyway. He brought you a bundle of kiwis the next day because he couldn’t figure out what else was green to give you. You were unaware of the fruit’s connection to his question about your favorite color but to him, he’d pretty much just asked you out. 

When you didn’t reciprocate his feelings, because you were unaware he had feelings for you, and unaware he had just presented them to you through said kiwis, he pouted for the remainder of the day.

You couldn’t figure out why the man who had spent every waking second of your career with the ADA by your side had suddenly started avoiding you. You couldn’t figure it out, and it was killing you. Little did he know, you had also started memorizing details about him, and the way his laugh sounded, the way his lips curved into a smile, the way his fingers pushed up his glasses, the way he did anything and everything, the way he said anything and everything had you craving your next interaction before the previous one had even ended. And you couldn’t take the silence he had now forced you into. So you went on a hunt for him.

You found him sulking on the rooftop. 

You plopped down beside him without saying a word and when you could tell he might be preparing to run again, preparing to plunge your relationship into further silence, you handed him a Ramune. He froze. And then he snatched the drink out of your hand like it was just another Tuesday for the two of you.

“You remembered my favorite flavor, huh? Not too shabby for a second rate detective.” He chugged down the drink.

You laughed and nudged his shoulder with yours. “If I’m such a second rate detective, how did I know you’d be on the roof?”

He shrugged. “Got lucky, I guess.”

You bit your lip and for the first time in years, considered lying. But you couldn’t do it. “Actually, I didn’t just ‘get lucky.’ I knew you’d be on the roof. You always come to the roof when you’re upset. I notice more than you think. So tell me- why are you upset?”

He sighed. “You’re not into me. No one’s ever into me.”

You blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

He sighed again, this time more exasperated. “I gave you a gift, but you didn’t accept my feelings.”

You blinked again. “The… kiwis?? Ranpo. You always give me gifts. You gave me strawberries during my last period even though Yosano told you to get me chocolate because you know I like fruits better than chocolate. You gave me limited edition tickets to a play that was already sold out because you’d preordered it when you heard me vaguely mention that I liked it. You are always giving me things, and they’re perfect, and I love it, and I appreciate it, but how was I supposed to know this time was something different?”

He tapped a finger on his chin. “Yeah okay fine. I see that now.”

You inched up closer to him. “So… this time is different though?”

He suddenly blushed. “Yeah… this time it’s different. This time I wanted… well I wanted…”

“Me?”

He’s suddenly quiet and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him like this. You’ve rendered him speechless and it’s impossible not to find it adorable.

You kiss him.

If he was speechless before, now he’s speechless and breathless.

“I just… you just…so we’re?”

You nod, smiling at him. “Yeah. We are.”

“We’re… together?” He squeaks out.

“I’d like us to be.”

He nods vigorously. “I-I’d like us to be too!” He blurts out.

You kiss him again and this time he savors the feeling of your lips melding with his. This time he kisses you back with fervor, with passion he never knew he could feel. This time, he’s all yours.

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

Author's Note: I am too lazy to write a longer fic that delves into their relationship after this, but I did want to write a lil drabble about it, so I will be posting it here.

[clairdelunelove]

smooth and sweet

könig x reader

genre: fluff! (mealtime drabble!)

warnings: slightly suggestive, cursing, mentions of 'fresh/bare' face but no explicit mention of makeup, mentions of könig's social anxiety, sweet!könig

synopsis: könig always waits for you before eating his meals! this time though, when you walk-in (clean and fresh faced!) after a mission, he's left speechless!

a.n. literally could not get this gentle giant out of my mind so I decided to give him a shot and write for him! still working on writing for his character but tell me what you think! :3 and as always, my kofi! much love <3

-

-

-

head very full about könig's reaction to seeing you after a mission, all freshened up and glowing, and how easily he’d be choking on his words.

-

he’d be tucked in the farthest corner of the mess hall, shrouded by the dim fluorescent overhead lights. his fingers tapped a rhythmic, yet impatient, beat against his tray as his pale blue eyes scan the entirety of the building. you’re late. the observation is a bit unusual since you regularly insisted on sharing a meal together. after all, it was initially your idea that you brought up to the austrian and– unable to handle the sincerity of your smile– he agreed. had profusely apologized when he speedily whipped his arm out of your grasp when you were overjoyed with his answer and couldn't help but cling to him. but now, it was common to see the two of you huddled closely over meals. didn’t matter what type: breakfast, lunch, dinner. you were there and you always identified him from the crowd. greeted him with a wide, bright grin on your face like you anticipated his presence. liked his company. and oh boy, did that realization turn his brain and heart into mush.

könig who barely bats an eye when the other soldiers pass in his general vicinity. he’ll blurt out an acknowledgment to show respect but otherwise dismisses the beginnings of a lengthy conversation from especially chatty recruits. it gets difficult for him to shut them down once they start yapping away. makes his palms sweaty because he’s overthinking the best method to casually tell them that he’s expecting someone. understands that it’s a terrible practice for him to adopt since time in the mess hall is designed so personnel can socialize with each other. eases the burden of work. relieves some of the stress. yet, his gaze is fixed on the entrance and his thigh eagerly jumps whenever the door opens. 

könig who refuses to eat his meals without you. he will always wait until you’ve started eating before he even begins to pick at his food. it’s common courtesy, or so he rehearses whenever you question him about it. you’d express your bewilderment for his habit, “it’s sweet of you but you don’t have to wait for me, ya know. I know you must be starving after training,” and hope that it convinces him. he waves a dismissive hand and murmurs a faint acknowledgement. mostly to quell your worries. but, without a doubt, is found perched with a tray of– untouched– food in front of him– that is, until you’ve settled beside him.

könig who is on the verge of giving up while awaiting your appearance. awkwardly raises a gloved hand to flag down a nearby recruit to ask, “do you know if (y/n) is here?” upon receiving an empty answer, he’ll lean back into his seat and mutter, “trotzdem danke.” rationalizes your absence. tells himself that it could be that you were simply busy– caught up in filling out paperwork, preparing for the next objective, or conversing with a superior. nothing he should take personally. supposes that perhaps it was his fault for being hopeful for your arrival. for expecting it. is afflicted with a bitter pang of disappointment– the kind that throws him into uneasiness and makes his brain all fuzzy. a feeling that he’s rather acquainted with amidst his younger years.  

könig who’s halfway in the process of lifting a forkful of food under his sniper hood when you slam your meal tray before him. the loud rattle almost knocks him over, forcing his shoulders to immediately seize up before he hears your distressed voice, “I’m so sorry, koni! got caught up in the washroom. were you waiting long?” and his heart does this unusual flip in his chest. you’re here with him. he coughs, still avoiding your gaze and smooths a hand over his hood. pinches at the edge of the dark fabric as he absentmindedly responds, “nein, nein. not long, do not worry.” you exhale heavily, the noise akin to a sigh of relief, and rest a gentle hand on his forearm, “oh, good. I was worried I was taking too long! I came back caked in gunpowder and mud from the last mission. couldn’t even recognize me underneath all that grime so I had to scrub it all off–” 

könig who unceremoniously drops his fork when his gaze finally flicks up to yours. carries out that comical ‘clink’ when the utensil connects with the side of his tray and his hands sprawl to lessen the clamor but it’s in vain because he’s not even looking at it– too engrossed in staring at you. you’re glowing. clearly you told him the truth because your face is devoid of any of the muck he remembers you were covered in. könig reasons it’s a true, vile crime that the dirt tarnished your soft features for him to appreciate. a skewed smile graces your lips, his prolonged gawking outwardly causes you to become a bit self-conscious. your fingers lift to cup one side of your face and your head slowly tilts in a silent inquiry. 

könig who blurts, “you look very refreshed.” the words leave his lips too awkwardly, beginning and stopping at odd syllables. a beat of silence passes. noticing your lack of a response, he’s aware that he ultimately just ruined the chances of a lighthearted dinner. he wrings his hands. decides to try again. “your,” he hesitates and gestures to his masked face, “nice.” this comment seems to elicit a stronger reaction because you’re thoughtfully reaching up to your own face with a breathy chuckle. yet, it’s not enough for könig. 

könig who drags a large hand down his face and bites back a curse, “verdamnnt. I can’t think.” his gaze bounces off the walls in the room, clearly exasperated beyond measure, and you vaguely understand that he’s contemplating. in the midst of his frenzy, his eyes land on you and you’re precisely reminded how gorgeous they are– eagerly lit in reverence to his current situation. “you’re radiant, no,” he taps his fingers on the table and groans, “mein gott! what is the word.” and your hand naturally reaches for him, nearly quelling his irritation, when his fist slams against the table. “pretty! very pretty,” he says at last and his eyes burn in triumph at finding a word that is undoubtedly compatible to you, “so fucking pretty.” 

könig who revels in the bashfulness that’s evident in your mannerisms. he spots the way your brows shoot up in shock when his accent seems to morph the compliment into a praise that’s headier– more provocative and therefore more potent to your racing heart. “pretty?” you decide to bait the conversation somewhere else, take the edge off of your burning face, and pry, “saying that I usually look bad, koni?” your quip causes him to short circuit and his brain has trouble keeping up with banter that he wasn’t expecting. “no,” he spits out the word, albeit a bit strongly, but doesn’t expand further– he can’t. his mouth opens and closes but no words come out. he’s sure that without his sniper hood he’d look like an utter fool. how does he manage to mess up a simple compliment? 

könig who essentially has to shove his eyeballs back into their sockets because of how ridiculously wide they become when you lean against the table. his stillness knocks a laugh out of you and at the soft noise, you glance up at him. his dark eyebrows are knit together and the sight can be tracked by how his sniper hood sits rather haphazardly over his face. he’s the image of pliable– ready to heed any desire you may have. your position serves to crowd his field of view. he gets an ample whiff of your scent; the fresh, sweet concoction that would make his knees buckle if he was standing upright or entice him to yank the fabric off his face to smell the fragrance better. pushing your face closer to könig, he instinctively shifts back (to give you some room, be respectful of your space) but freezes when your hands are on him. your fingers grasp at the edges of his sniper hood, slipping underneath so your fingernails barely graze the skin there, and he’s stuttering, “I don’t– I, uh.” his explanation breaks off at the end and perhaps it’s for the best because everything that leaves his lips is incoherent. you hum, mindful and thoroughly receptive of his jittery behavior. tilting his chin to you, a sticky gasp catches in his throat. “oh,” his voice borders a whine when your nails lightly scrape at the nape of his neck, “maus.” he blows out a long exhale from parted lips, undoubtedly trying to maintain his composure with you– that is, if he had any to begin with. you’ve got him fully weak. “what happened?” your lips curl into a teasing smile upon watching his eyes flutter at the next words that leave your lips, “cat got your tongue, big boy?” 

[syd-djarin]

Treat Me Like A Slut - jack "whiskey" daniels x f!reader

warnings: explicit 18+. *MDNI*

a/n: I got the title of this from the Kim Petras song with the same name. It inspired the filth below.

y'all already know by now my sister in smut @katiexpunk helped me flesh out deets & all that. couldn't do it without you bestie babe. <3

word count: 4k+

summary: Jack returns home from a mission. You have a surprise and a request for him.

tags:  Jack calls reader a slut multiple times (at her request), masturbation (m and f), size kink, unprotected P in V, oral (m and f receiving), cum eating, orgasm denial, codewords, dom/sub dynamic, pet names for reader (sugar, baby, sweet girl, kitten), reader calls Jack cowboy, references to Jack being a trained killer, reader buys and wears lingerie, established relationship, brief mention of anal play, Creampie !!!!, no physical descriptions of reader, excessive use of Daddy, rough sex, ankle biting, toe sucking, a whip gets mentioned, size kink, spanking, one (1) titty slap, Jack has some funny lines in this one, bruising, and finally Jack is just a menace in this one – sweet and kinky AF.

smut after the cut.

Jack hates jerking off. 

Well, he hates jerking off when he could have you. Nothing can replicate the feeling of your lips on his cock or being buried deep inside your pussy. He fucks his cock in his fist anyway, not that he has much of an option at the moment. Sweet, salacious memories of you flood his brain as he tries to melt deeper into the mattress and he attempts to forget the past few weeks. This mission has been long and drawn out; time he would rather spend with you. 

You’ve been dating for three months now and can’t stay away from each other. Like a moth drawn to a flame, Jack wants to constantly be in your orbit. When he first asked you on a date, you both agreed to take it slow. “I don’t wanna pressure you, sugar,” he said, and you had agreed that slow is good. You quickly learned that neither you, nor Jack, know the concept of the word. Your first date turned into an entire weekend together. Once he had sampled a taste of your sweetness, there was no going back. 

It’s been an agonizing week for Jack. He’s always had a flair for the dramatics, but you can hear it in the tone of his voice that he isn’t exaggerating when he says this week has nearly killed him. Sure, being a Statesman is dangerous and he flirts with death on the daily, but being away from you? He’d rather be given the Old Yeller treatment than to have to be without you. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he moans, taking a final few tugs at the silky smooth skin of his hard shaft before cum erupts out of him and onto his toned belly. “Fuck,” he says, letting out a long sigh, hand still on how pulsing cock as he stares at the ceiling wishing you were here to lick the spend off of him. 

***

You were able to keep yourself busy and enjoy your alone time at first, but as the week went on, you became more impatient. Needy. 

Tonight, your apartment feels smaller than usual, the air thicker, as you pace back and forth across the hardwood floor. The book you had been engrossed in lay forgotten on the coffee table, its characters suspended in a world you couldn’t quite bring yourself to re-enter. Your mind was too focused on Jack. 

You check your phone for the umpteenth time, the minutes ticking by at an excruciatingly slow pace. The silence in the apartment echoes the restlessness in you. You feel a knot tightening in your stomach, a want, a need, a feeling of unease. 

An orgasm might help, you think, but no matter how hard you try, your methods of self-pleasure never seem to fully satiate you. Sure, you’ve made yourself come a dozen times this week, but it’s not the same. You’re spoiled now; Jack’s expert hands, mouth, and god his cock have taken your pleasure threshold to new heights. He’s given you the best orgasms of your life, and now what you’re able to accomplish on your own is slightly abysmal. It’s infuriating or splendid, you can’t decide which, that he seems to know your body more than you do. 

Despite knowing it won’t help, the siren call of your cunt wins over.  As you lay on your shared bed, engulfed in the smell of his cologne still clinging to the pillowcases, the faint buzz of your vibrator and your sweet little sounds that drive Jack crazy add new noise to the silence. You imagine Jack and the slow, tantalizing drag of his cock in and out of you as you fold like a house of cards letting the aftershocks of your orgasm lull you to sleep. 

Just one more day until he’s home. 

***

The first light of morning filters through the curtains, kissing the room in a soft glow, you stir from your slumber. You let out a big good morning stretch, and clear the sleep from your eyes. As you sit up, the duvet cascades from your shoulders and you take a moment to bask in the quiet beauty of the morning. Today’s the day. 

The list of things you have to do before your cowboy comes home already starts running through your mind like the end credits of a movie, and you spring out of bed and get ready for the day. 

As you stroll through the downtown area, with only one bag in hand, you just so happen to walk by a lingerie store. Call it chance or fate, but the sexy tight number in the window catches your attention. 

“Hey there sweet pea, what brings you in today?” the older woman greets you as you walk through the doors to the shop. She doesn’t particularly fit the vibe of the store, but her presence is a bit disarming. Of course, you’d shopped for lingerie before, but always online and never in person, so you’re a tad nervous. 

“Oh, hi – uh, well I was just out running some errands,” you say, slightly lifting your bag as if to signal this isn’t planned before continuing, “the piece in the corner caught my eye, would it be possible to try it on?” you ask, your eyes dropping to the floor as you tuck a loose piece of hair behind your ear. 

“Oh sure, honey, that’s a gorgeous one!” You smile and give her your size, and she tells you to look around the shop for anything else you might like to try on. You grab a handful and she leads you to the dressing room, telling you her name is Darla and to holler if you need any different sizes. 

You save your favorite, the one from the window, for last. As you slip into the ensemble, the fabric feels luxe against your skin. It’s a lacy, scarlet red babydoll with a thong to match. You admire yourself in the mirror, letting your palms playfully dance over your curves. Any nervousness you feel walking into the store is slowly replaced with a new sense of confidence. Lost in the fantasy of how he’ll respond, there’s a little flutter in your stomach. 

“How’s it going in there? Need any help with the laces?” Darla asks. You’re not sure if it’s in her job description to be so kind to her customers, but you like her. 

“Great – I, I think I found the one,” you say, opening the curtain to let her finish fastening you into the fabric. 

“Oh honey, you’re a knockout,” she says, and you feel your skin warm at the compliment. “Your man’s in for a real treat.” 

Yeah. He really is. 

***

Once home, the hours seem to pass by slower than molasses, as Jack would say. 

You decide to take an ‘everything’ shower to kill time and to compliment your new purchase. You have the time, so you decide to go the full nine; you put on a hair mask, exfoliate, shave, and gua sha your face. You giggle as you remember Jack watching you do it once, except he couldn’t say ‘gua sha’ correctly, mispronouncing the ‘gua’ as ‘goo’. 

You moisturize your body in your favorite body butter, the one that Jack thinks smells delicious, and paint your nails to match the lacy number you’ll be donning this evening. Pampering yourself like this, giving yourself the self-care you’ve been needing, amplifies the arousal that’s been brewing all day. 

You illuminate the room with a warm flicker of candles, their soft glow creating an ambiance to the room around you while the dulcet tones of your favorite vinyl grace the air at a low volume. You slip into your red number and put the finishing touches on your look as you admire yourself in the mirror. You look hot, and you know it. 

You’re ready to pounce on Jack as soon as he walks in. 

Suddenly, the unmistakable jingle of his keys in the lock alerts you that he’s finally home. You hear the little creak of the door as he pushes it open, and then the commanding cadence of his boot-clad footsteps, a sound you could identify any day. You feel a buzz course through your body at your excitement as you take your place on the bed. 

“Honey, I’m home,” Jack echoes through the entryway. 

“In here!” you respond, throwing your voice in his direction. 

As Jack swings open the bedroom door, his jaw practically descends to the floor in sheer astonishment, his bag meeting the ground with a resounding thud. A stunned silence envelops the room, his dark brown eyes riveted on you, unblinking and filled with an intensity that leaves him momentarily speechless, while a palpable hunger reflects in his watering mouth.

Holy. Fuck. 

“Hi baby, I missed you,” you purr, your eyes locked on his, as you crawl on all fours like a tigress to her prey to finish greeting him, “did you miss me?” you ask, all flirt and no question in your voice, rising to your knees on the mattress to give him a better look at your body. 

He must have died and this is heaven. There’s no other explanation for the beauty that is you before him. 

He approaches you, his broad hands finding your hips as you interlace your fingers behind his neck. With his body pressed against you, you can already feel his rock-hard cock twitching in his tight, nearly painted-on jeans. 

“You have no idea…” he growls in the nape of your neck before pulling away to eye you in a ravenous manner that makes your heartbeat in your pussy. 

One of his hands leaves your side, and he reaches up to angle your chin towards him. He looks you in the eyes in a way that makes you feel like you’re the only woman in the world, his eyes saying all of the things his mouth isn’t. He smiles at you for a moment before he leans in and plants his lips on yours. He begins to kiss you languidly, and you both let out soft moans in unison at being in each other’s presence again. His groomed mustache tickles your lips, making you giggle into his mouth. 

He pulls back, fiddling with the hem of the baby doll. “You wear this just for me?” he asks, his warm hand splaying on your tummy.  

“Mhmm,” you respond, but it comes out sounding a little more like a moan than a reply. “I wanted to surprise you,” you confess while looking down at where his hand meets your stomach, “wanted to look sexy for you, Agent Whiskey,” you look back into his eyes, giving him a little wink, your allure calling out to him; snatching him up faster than any lasso ever could. 

Jack normally doesn’t like his work to bleed through to his personal life, but hearing your honeyed voice call him Agent Whiskey is enough to make him abandon all the rules. 

“Darlin’,  ya always look sexy to me, like a goddamn sex kitten,” he drawls, leaning in to plant tender kisses on your neck, his grazing his teeth over the soft skin of your neck. You giggle, playfully swatting at him. “‘M serious, you are divine,” he adds, divine coming out more like deevine.  

You may be the sex kitten in his eyes, but he’s the one lapping you up like a bowl of milk. His hands roam over the tight fabric that graces your body, and you get lost in the feel of his touch. His grip on you is tight, even though you’re fully pressed against him, he wants you closer. His need, his lust, awakens something carnal in you, causing you to lose control of your tongue as you all but word vomit, “Treat me like a slut.” Well, we probably could have eased into that conversation. 

He pulls back and eyes your face in disbelief –  this must be heaven – before a knowing smirk washes across his face. “Is that what you want, hmm? Want Daddy to get rough with ya, baby?” The hand that’s gripping the soft flesh of your hips begins to migrate down to your ass. 

You whimper; becoming putty-like in his hands, more than ready to worship at his altar. 

“Tell me, baby. Use your words like a big girl,” he urges, squeezing your ass with more force. 

“Yes, daddy,” you choke out, “I want you to be rough with me, please…please.” 

“My pretty girl wants me to treat her like a slut, then that’s what she’ll get,” He removes the hand on your hip, and the other from your ass, before guiding them to find yours. He interlocks your fingers together and looks at you a bit more seriously this time. You see the darkness that flickers behind his eyes. You know Jack is a dangerous man – a trained killer – but he’d never hurt you. No, this darkness is something different, it’s an insatiable desire to consume you in every way possible, to give you anything you desire.  

“Wanna set some rules first, ‘kay?” he says, his voice low. You nod. 

“If at any point you want me to stop, slow down, don’t like something, whatever, you tell me, alright? You remember our code word?” he asks, and you nod again. “Good. Now, you don’t get to touch me unless I tell ya to. You don’t get to come ‘til I tell ya to. Got it?”

“Yes, daddy, I understand,” you respond. He lets out another knowing smirk and palms himself through his jeans. 

“‘M gonna take good care of ya, baby girl. Now, you gonna show daddy what a good little slut you can be?” he asks. 

“Yes, daddy. Wanna be a good slut for you.”

You’re a little surprised at how quickly you slip into submission, although you shouldn’t be. Not when it comes to Jack. He’s a master at getting what he wants, and you’re not sure if there is anything that you wouldn’t do for him. 

“Good girl. Now, off the mattress and get on your knees,” he orders, already unbuckling his jeans to free his wicked big cock. 

You do as he says, feeling yourself sink your weight onto your shins and the coolness of the hardwood beneath you. “Open your mouth,” he says, his heavy cock in hand, stroking it to get it to full length. 

You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, patiently waiting for your next instructions.  

He continues to stroke himself, looking, admiring, the gift of a woman that sits before him. As he pumps himself, he takes a few steps forward so that he’s hovering above you. Your big doe eyes look up at him, and you’re drooling at the sight of him like you always have.  

His thumb ghosts over his red and weeping tip, and he uses it to collect the dribble of precum that has beaded through his slit to wet the tip of his cock.  He taps the mushroom head of it onto your tongue a few times, a sticky string of saliva trailing between him and your tongue with each lift before he eventually plants the tip fully in your mouth. Your lips lock around him, and you begin to moan, reveling in the heady taste of him. You want so badly to move, to take him deeper into your mouth, but he hasn’t told you to do so. He tangles one of his hands in your hair, firmly pulling; not too gentle, but not too rough, either. 

Jack slides your mouth off of him. He’s admiring your present state; spit and precum smeared across your mouth and down your chin, hair disheveled and your eyes delirious from lust. 

“Change of plans,” he says, offering no explanation as to why he’s suddenly depriving you of sucking him off. 

“Don’t worry ‘m gonna take of ya, like I always do,” he says, kicking off his boots and shucking the rest of his clothes to the floor, “hands and knees on the bed, baby.” 

You don’t need to be told twice. You’re clambering over yourself to follow directions, legs unsteady from your agonizing need. 

Jack drops to his knees behind you, takes his thick finger, and slips it into your crack, under the lacy string situated between your cheeks. He pulls back on the thin string and releases it, the snap causing a pleasant sting against your skin. 

“Soaking wet,” he hums, ‘always so fucking wet, you perfect girl,” he rasps,  running that same finger through your seam, along the drenched lace, causing you to whimper. “Who’s got you so wet, baby, hmm?” he asks, knowing the answer, he just wants to hear you say it.

He lands a light swat on your ass when you don’t answer him. It sends a shiver through your spine, more arousal dripping into your thong. 

“‘M not gonna ask you again. So tell me, who’s got your pretty pussy so wet, baby?” 

“You, Jack, always wet for you, only you,” each word comes out shaky, so aroused you might collapse if Jack doesn’t alleviate the ache soon, “Daddy, please,” you cry.

Kneading the flesh of your ass he grunts in approval. “S’right baby, you’re mine. All mine.”

Jack pulls the thong to the side, revealing your dripping cunt to him. He spits down, trailing from your asshole to your clit, your legs clench in response. You’re using all your might not to move. This doesn’t go unnoticed by him, after all, it is his job to notice things; even on the subtlest level. 

Ghosting a fingertip over your tight ring of muscle, rousing you, “You like it when I touch you like that? Touchin’ your other slutty lil hole?”

“Y-es, fuck,” gritting out through ragged breaths. He files that information for later, a smug grin plastered on his face. 

He swipes his tongue from your clit up your entrance. He moans in response to your taste like you’re the best dessert he’s ever had; you whimper from the spark of pleasure of the warmth of his tongue. He teases you a few more times by lightly skimming up and down, licking you from your clit down to your aching hole. You can’t help but squirm, rocking your hips back to meet his mouth, chasing your high. He smacks your ass again, a reminder to keep still. 

“Need more,” you whine pitifully, his grip on the back of your thighs is now ironclad, blocking you from gaining more stimulation that isn’t provided by him. 

He halts his movements and pulls his face away from your pussy, but still close enough that you can feel his hot breath when he speaks, “I know I don’t need’ta remind you to use your manners.” 

“Please, daddy, I need more, fuck, fuck, fuckkk!” you desperately cry.

“Good girl, askin’ so nicely,” punctuated by shoving a thick finger into your weeping entrance. 

Jack pumps his finger in and out at a steady pace, all while flicking his tongue across your throbbing clit. When he thinks you’re relaxed enough, he slips in a second finger, and the added sensation and drag against your soft walls has you barreling towards the edge of your orgasm. 

He can tell you’re close by the way your cunt grips down on him, tightening like a trap, one you never want him to leave. He slows his pace, edging you until you’re writhing in his grip.  “Daddy, please, please let me come,” you’re heaving, covered in a sheen of sweat. 

“My little slut gets to come when I tell her she can,” he torts. 

Once he senses you’re no longer as close to finishing as you were, he slowly picks up his tempo once more and the attention he places on your clit brings you right back to the boiling point. Your fingers card through his dark locks as you hang on to him for dear life, doing your best not to come without permission.

“J–Jaa-Jack,” you cry, “I can’t hold on much longer, I’m going to come, I need to come.” 

He wants to continue to edge you all night, but the growing ache from his neglected cock begins to get to him. As much as he wants to continue to devour you, his blood-filled shaft has other plans.

“Alright, you can come, let me hear you, pretty girl,” he whispers against your mound before his lips find their home around your clit, and his tongue begins to circle against it in just the right way. With his permission, you let out a sigh of relief; your orgasm washes over you like the ocean onto the shore, it’s loud and strong. 

Jack gathers the slick seeping out of you onto his fingers and sucks it off, his eyes fluttering shut as he savors the final taste of your release. “That’s finger lickin’ good, baby,” he says. You might feel inclined to cringe at that, but you’re too fucked out to mind, but a little giggle escapes your chest at the comment. Only Jack could find the perfect balance of vulgarity and humor. 

He drops both of his large palms to your thighs and begins to massage them with a soothing amount of pressure, grounding you through your floaty, blissed-out state, and it’s not before long that the need for more returns. He gently pecks soft kisses on your lower back, murmuring praises against your skin. Such a good girl, you did so good for me, my sweet and pretty girl. He’s sensual and sweet amidst the dominance he’s displaying, the duality makes your heart beat fast and your pussy flutter. 

He rises to stand and positions himself behind where you’re bent over. He strokes his heavy cock as he marvels at how good you look like this, bent over, ass up, just waiting to be stuffed full of him. He lines the tip of his cock up against your wet and waiting cunt to gather a little bit of your slick on the head of him before he begins gliding his cock up and down through your messy folds. The sensation on your somewhat sensitive clit makes you let out a small little whimper. 

“Want daddy to fuck you, pretty girl?” Just like before, he already knows the answer,  he just wants to hear you beg for it, beg for him. His ego is as big as his cock. His words are as much of a tease for him as they are for you; his resolve begins to crumble further with every moment he’s not buried to the hilt inside you. 

“Yes!” nodding your head despite the way it’s still spinning, “please—” 

“Think she can fit it,” he asks, not giving you a second to answer as he drives the length of him inside you with no restraint. Your body jolts forward on impact and he clutches your waist, pinning you in place. Both of you are unmoving, gasping to catch your breath as you adjust to his size. It’s a stretch every time and you delight in it. “Course she can, cuz my girl is a perfect little slut,” he says, dragging his cock in and out of you with ease as your wetness coats him.

‘Fuck, baby. You feel so good, it’s like this pussy was made for me, just fuck, just for me,” he says, willing himself to not bust inside of you already, but it’s hard.  Having you like this, at his mercy, coupled with the time he spent away from you, he’s shaking in his proverbial boots. 

You start to reach your hand behind you to hold onto his arm, but stop, remembering the rules. You don’t get to touch me unless I tell ya to. 

Jack beats you to the punch, “Go on, darlin’, grab hold’a daddy. You’re gonna need it.”

Just as soon as you wrap your hand around his forearm, he pulls almost out of you entirely before slamming back into you, the tip of his cock punches your cervix and you let out a little welp. The intensity of the relentless pace he has set has you breathless, keyed up, on the edge of another orgasm. He continues to fuck in and out of you, plowing into your pussy at a devastating pace; no mercy to be found. 

Lecherous sounds echo through the bedroom; Jack’s hips slapping against the flesh of your ass, the wet squelch of your pussy, guttural groans and whines. 

“Such a good fuckin’ slut for me, kitten… you take this cock so good, so fuckin’ tight, Jesus…” Jack rambles in between his thrusts. 

“Tell daddy how it feels,” he commands, landing a sharp smack against your ass. “Feels so good, daddy, mmm, feel so full,” you sputter,  an octave higher than you usually speak. 

“Yeah I know, baby girl,” he pulls out, manhandling you onto your back, jerking your legs over his shoulders before he slams back into you in a matter of seconds, the intensity of it causes your tits to bounce and Jack loves the sight of it. The angle has his cock punching your cervix brutally and deliciously. Your cunt grips him tighter as you watch the way his jaw goes slack as he pummels in and out of you. He can use you like this forever and you’d be fine with it. 

Jack turns his face to graze his teeth across your ankle, then bites the soft flesh, eliciting a yelp from you. The look in Jack’s eyes is voracious. He’ll never have enough of you. 

“Eyes on me, baby,” he growls, gently slapping one of your tits through the cups of the babydoll to redirect your eyes into his. Locking eyes with one another while Jack ravages you has you hurling into another orgasm. 

“Fuck, I’m so close, daddy,” just shy of shouting. 

A cheeky grin breaks out on his face as if he’d gotten an idea just now. Jack lifts one of your legs off his shoulder and holds it steady, your foot now directly in front of his face. Without warning, he shoves your middle two toes into his mouth. 

“Jack!” You actually shout this time. A mix of surprise and bliss. 

“Scream my name as loud as you need to, sugar,” he teases, but admittedly, he loves seeing how loud he can get you to cry out his name. 

He runs his warm tongue along your ticklish toes and you’re done for. “Can I come daddy? I’m so fucking close, please I need to come…” panting like a dog in heat. 

“C’mon give it to me, pretty girl, gimme another and I’ll fill you up with my cum,” he encourages. He’s not far off from where you’re at. “Been such a good slut for me tonight, soak this fuckin’ cock…” 

He’s rutting into you with such great force, you know you’ll be sore tomorrow. That thought is the last push you needed; you’re clenching around Jack while you’re coming; entering a rapturous daze. 

“Oh fuck, Jack—fuck, ah!” mewling loudly. Your juices drip out of you onto his cock and the sheets. He loves how messy your pussy is. 

“That’s it baby, mmmm such a sweet mess you made for me…” cooing at you. 

He slows his speed way down, but keeps the thrusts deep, helping you ride out your second orgasm of the night. 

A few hard, deep, slow thrusts and Jack is spurting his spend in your pussy. 

“Fuuuuuuuuuck, baby,” halting his movements, resting his forehead against yours. The sticky sheen of sweat clings in the air; the distinctive smell of sex permeating the room.

He showers your face in tender kisses, leaving no patch of skin untouched. You adore the way Jack will fuck you within an inch of your life and will be caring and attentive afterwards. 

***

Both of you lie still tangled in each others’ arms, Jack breaks the silence, “Maybe I should leave more often,” in that post-sex-husky-raspy voice you love so much. 

“Nuh-uh, this week sucked without you. Leave for that long again and it’ll be you getting treated like a slut,” you taunt. You giggle uncontrollably, still under the effect of your climax. 

He puffs out an exhale of relief. He’s not convinced you have a dominant bone in your body until you reveal that you purchased something else in addition to the red number still lingering on your body. 

“You should see what else I bought,” you say, your voice suggestive enough to perk Jack’s ears up from his nearly fucked out comatose state. He opens one eye and looks at you with an inquisitive face. You let out a smirk, and jump up from the bed, a bounce in your step, as you walk over to the dresser across the room. 

Jack’s jaw actually falls to the floor this time when he watches you reveal a long, black, leather whip. 

“My turn, cowboy.” 

[qiupachups]

hobie brown

.｡.+*☆ headcannons 🎸💭

contents: general hcs, london based hobes bc i live there

a/n: my wife! the picture above is ‘stay close to me— omega sessions’ by bad brains (super cute song and so hobie)

When he’s not playing shows, antagonising fascists, or staging unpermitted political action slash performance art pieces— Hobie takes care of his garden. There’s just about anything growing on his canal boat that can survive London.

It’s fun just like him! He can repurpose whatever he finds into a planter, which includes old Henry Hoovers.

Most things we take for granted are ridiculously scarce in his world, like running hot water. Not wanting to waste this luxury, Hobie developed the skill of taking extremely fast showers.

Sometimes it feels like he steps in and comes straight out. It’s a little unnerving.

Once a month, Hobie does a super deep clean of his canal boat. He finds all sorts of inter-dimensional trash he’s collected over the weeks. After heaving it off the deck, you swear the boat groaned in relief.

Where does it all go? Miguel’s dimension, of course. The man didn’t have to guess the mystery fly-tipper when he saw the bags flickering through the colour spectrum. In Hobie’s defence, the waste disposal system is better in Earth-98.

If you hadn’t realised yet, Hobie is a methodical and thoughtful spidey. He plans for the best times to grow his produce and harvests them at the perfect time (not always since he’s usually… busy).

After freezing or preserving the amount he needs, he gives the rest to his community. So, expect some strawberry jam materialising at your doorstep.

For as longer as he remembers, Hobie could always cook. There was never a time he didn’t help feed his community or volunteer at F.E.A.S.T— even with his responsibilities post spider-bite.

In Hobie’s eyes, there’s nothing better than a good home-cooked meal. He can make something (amazing) from nothing so you can trust him even when it feels like there’s just dust left in the cupboard.

Multiple spideys can agree that Hobie’s singing isn’t the best. When Gwendy gave him a very forced smile, it only broke his heart a little. The face of Hobie’s idol basically admitting his singing sucks isn’t a big deal. Duh. He’s a big girl— he can handle that…

Thankfully, playing his MaryJane (guitar) more than makes up for it. If he’s not using it to torment police, he’ll make the best damn art that’s gonna stick in your head rent free.

With at least eleven piercings and counting, the dos and don’ts of them are like second nature to Hobie. That’s only eleven we can see— who knows how many more he has hidden? Without a doubt, there’ll be more to come.

Instead of getting blood poisoning from Claires or judged by a pretentious tattoo artist, go to Hobie. He’ll refuse payment but he wouldn’t turn down a drink.

Hobie isn’t called the Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man for nothing. His genuine (almost violent) care for his community has earned him the respect of basically everyone, despite their initial concerns.

“A dependable young man.” That’s how the elderly women tend to describe Hobie. They’re his biggest allies since he’d drop almost anything to help them cross a road or carry groceries.

Gwendy’s chucks aren’t the first and certainly won’t be the last thing he’ll steal. (You seriously think Hobie just happened to have shoes in her size and colour?)

He’ll definitely nick something of something of yours when you’re not looking. Once you realise, he’ll hold it high above your head and force you to jump for it. Why? Because he can.

Like every other British teen, Hobie’s dabbled in some underage drinking. It’s not illegal if you don’t get caught! When he’s drunk, he’ll be obnoxiously sweet and yell stuff like “You’re gorgeous, luv!” because he truly means it.

In addition to Hobie’s strange array of skills, being good at pub games is another. Beer pong, darts, etc… you name it: he’ll clear it. Hell, he might start organising them if he’s drunk enough.

In his personal humble opinion, roses are way too cliche for a romantic gift. It’s overdone, boring and stupidly difficult to obtain in his universe. So instead, Hobie rips off that patch you’ve been eyeing and gifts that to you.

As much as he’d like to, Hobie couldn’t rip off every patch for you. Instead, he makes a matching set and he’s cheesy enough to sew his one over his heart.

tag: @vhstown thanks for bean card xx

[sanjisboyfie]

๑ keep safe : "together in chaos." (15)

one piece x male reader

cause my love is mine, 

all mine

i love mine, mine, mine, 

nothing in the world belongs to me, 

but my love mine, all mine, all mine 

『 prev 』

[name] couldn’t believe this. the desert was stupid. how are birds going to outsmart both him and his captain?!

“is your brain really below the level of a bird?!” sanji scolded, shaking both luffy and [name] back and forth.

“hey, are you blaming me for being compassionate? you’re so cold, sanji,” [name] said nonchalantly, “let’s not worry about it, we’ll find something to eat,”

“we wouldn’t even need to do something like that if you had just used your brain!!” sanji cursed, still choosing to drill the consequences of [name] and luffy’s actions into their heads.

everyone else was settled down, choosing to take this a chance to catch their breath. [name] let himself fall on his back, soaking in the cold sand and shade whilst luffy went and tried to catch the birds that had stolen their stuff.

usopp decided to lay down next to [name], making the man grin.

“let’s play a game usopp!” he cheered, turning over so he was laying on his stomach on the sand instead. the sniper hummed in thought before agreeing. “tic-tac-toe!”

“you’re gonna lose,” usopp said confidently, leaning up on his elbows so that he could face the sand properly, “back on my home village, i won over a thousand games of tic-tac-toe by pure skill!”

“a thousand games?!” chopper exclaimed in shock, completing believing usopp.

“i won five thousand games of tic-tac-toe at my village,” [name] challenged further, making usopp pale and sweat nervously. “just kidding, i lied!”

“hey, that’s my thing!!” usopp shouted in annoyance at being punked.

[name] drew the board onto the sand, chopper laying on top of [name]’s head to observe. [name] did the first move, usopp following, until they reached the end of their game — [name] being the victor.

“you’ll never beat me,”

“no, no, no, that was too close, again!”

the two went back and forth in the game, finishing a least twenty games. it ended with [name] winning the majority of them and usopp sulking in the corner.

“if you played with your nose instead of your finger, you’d definitely win,” [name] teased poking the tip of usopp’s nose, making usopp slam his head down in the sand to shut him up. he got a mouthful of sand and the sniper grinning above him in victory.

“don’t disrespect me like that!!!” usopp said, smacking [name]’s hand away.

chopper laughed as [name] weakly spat out the sand in his mouth, the reindeer rolling side to side from his amusement. this made [name] focus on torturing him now, prodding and poking at chopper’s sides to tickle him.

everyone watched as [name] expertly dealt with chopper who was laughing at him, making the reindeer cry out for mercy for the tickling to stop.

just as [name] was about to let up on his torture method, there was a rumbling that shook the whole ground. everyone looked up in worry, seeing some sort of sand storm…? coming there way. but as usopp put his goggles on, the crew found out that it was just luffy bringing trouble towards them at high speeds.

[name] squinted, grimacing as he saw how huge the creature behind luffy was.

“a sandora dragon!!” vivi cried out in surprise.

“vivi, i feel like you really need to work on telling us these things beforehand,” [name] sighed, running a hand through his hair. vivi apologized quietly, but he simply shrugged his shoulders to show it wasn’t the biggest deal. after all, he just saw an oppurtunity for a good meal in front of him now.

“they’re the largest living replies in the desert,” [name] whistled at the description, “and they will wait under the sand for their prey. they have sharp claws and fangs, but they hardly ever use them. the reason being that they tend to swallow their prey whole,”

“he really does have a gift for attracting trouble,” ace said in amused voice, being the only one that was languidly sitting down on the sand.

“luffy, come quick, bring the food to us!!!” [name] shouted with his hands cupped over his mouth to project his voice more clearly.

“don’t just care about the reptile, how about saving luffy’s life?!” nami said, chopping [name] down on the head.

“we’ll take care of it,” sanji and zoro said in unison, rushing forward and prepared to attack the monster.

[name] hummed in appreciation, jumping up and down on the balls of his feet as he realized they were going to be eating good. in a second’s notice, the monster was done and dead — making [name] clap his hands in glee.

out of nowhere, though, he turned around in an instant and lifted his hand up in the air.

“ace, out of the way,” he said, tilting his head to the side to encourage the male to step just slightly over to the left. ace obeyed, looking in interest as another one of the monsters sprung out from the sand.

“i should’ve mentioned that they always hunt in pairs!!”

“mention these things!!” everyone shouted at vivi as [name] took his turn in taking care of the monster.

[name] lifted his hand up mimicking the shape of a gun with his fingers. the monster was looking directly at him. he closed one of his eyes, as if he was looking down the barrel of a gun and pretended as if he had just shot it off. his hand flinched backwards, “pew,” leaving his lips and then the monster in front of him had fallen over immediately.

“what was that technique?!” usopp shouted in fear, seeing that the monster was definitely dead at how lifelessly it had fallen back onto the sand.

”[name]’s really scary,” nami said, crocodile tears falling from her eyes.

“a monster!” chopper was the one to ironically yell that bit out, making [name] laugh.

“double the food supply! aren’t i just the best guys?” [name] grinned, looking childish despite the great feat he had just showed off. ace walked over with a low whistle, ruffling [name]’s head with his warm hand.

“the bestest, now let’s get sanji over here to cook this up for us,”

soon enough, the strawhats were eating an abundance of cooked meat. and once [name] was done eating to his heart’s content, he briefly passed out. unfortunately, zoro was sitting beside him so he had to hold up the weight of [name]’s sleeping body on his back.

he grunted in annoyance, angry tick marks forming on his face as he saw everyone was getting ready to go.

“someone take this idiot off of my hands!!!” he shouted at the crew, subconsciously holding [name] up in a piggy back position so the sleeping man wouldn’t fall off.

“hurry up guys, if you don’t catch up, you’ll never leave out of this desert alive!!!” nami teasingly called out to them, happily riding on the back of lashes, their new camel, with vivi. she didn’t have to worry about exerting too much effort in walking around now.

“hey!! i said, someone get this guy off my back or i’m leaving him here!” zoro shouted, hating how he was stuck carrying [name] around. “hey, [name]!! wake up right now, i’m not fucking around!”

“five more minutes,” [name] sleepily called out.

“fuck off, you can shove that five more minutes up your ass!”

“why are you saying such crude things, zoro, i don’t want anything up my ass,” [name] said, his eyes still shut and his words slurring together, “oh, you’re not as hot as i thought, you’re kind of like a cooler, i like this,”

“get off!!!”

“zoro, zoro, carry me too!” chopper called out, jumping up and down in a hurry seeing as everyone was already running off to follow nami.

this made the swordsman curse several times over before allowing chopper to grab onto [name], who zoro settled on carrying around. he’d just make [name] owe him back tenfold later.

zoro ran along with the group, not wanting to be left behind and was cursing [name] the entire way.

“i guess your status is also turned into camel too, huh, marimo?” sanji teased, seeing as zoro was now carrying the weight of two crewmates. “or maybe, desert camels are smarter than you,”

“shut up, pervy cook! i’ll slice you up,” zoro warned, glaring daggers into the blonde.

“is it my fault you’re the camel?” sanji shot back, grinning as he saw it only made zoro more pissed off.

“that’s it!” zoro threw [name] off of his back, making his still and sleeping body roll over in the sand several times down a hill. “i’ll kill you now, perv!”

[name] scratched his eyes awake, yawning and jumping up to his feet as he felt re-energized after his nap. he walked back up the hill he was thrown off of, blinking several times when he saw sanji and zoro fighting.

he punched the back of their heads, yawning as he did so, “come on, guys, fighting isn’t always the answer. let’s catch up with nami and vivi,”

“stop acting like you know what’s happening!!” the duo shouted at [name]’s back, their anger towards each other being washed away and instead growing towards [name].

the h/c haired man waved his hand dismissively, urging chopper and usopp to follow him.

“come back here, bastard!!!”

but [name] just ignored them, allowing chopper to climb on his back, and then continued walked onward. they walked in a straight line for a couple of moments before he noticed that the footprints the camel should’ve left behind were suddenly stopped.

“that’s weird,” he commented, looking around to find if they had simply gone off track.

“yeah, their footprints end here,” usopp added on.

“i wonder where they went off to-”

[name]’s words were cut off when a rumbling was heard, coming from their right. luffy was the first one to realized what it was, running forward and shouting for water.

it was a pirate ship, sailing through the sand rather than through the water and it made [name] tilt his head in confusion, “it looks stupid,”

“nevermind that! they have nami and vivi, we should go down there too,” zoro grunted in surprise, seeing the two familiar faces tied down to the main mast of the ship.

[name] furrowed his eyes brows, running down the sand hill and watching as luffy crashed right into the wooden mast, effectively breaking it in half. due to the troubles he had caused the other pirate crew, he promised to make it up to them.

nami and vivi were soon released from their confinements, but [name] was still on edge. he checked in with both of them to make sure that they were fine and when they replied that they were just shaken up, he nodded in understanding.

he stood in the middle of both of them keeping them a close distance.

“i swear i’ll make it up to you!” luffy cried out, watching as they lowered some sort of wooden sled down to the sand. [name] quirked his eyebrow up in interest, wondering how this would play out.

and just as the captain of the ship was laying down the information for luffy, there was a sudden shift in the air around [name] and vivi. the man lifted his head up and glared at what seemed to be nothing. his hand grabbed onto vivi’s waist and pushed her to the side.

his body shielded hers, just in case, and he cursed under his breath as a sudden axe was boomaranged towards them.

“oi, what gives?” he asked, glowering down at the woman who had thrown the axe. “what were you planning on doing exactly?”

she rolled her eyes at his questions, seemingly unimpressed with his attitude and shifted her gaze onto vivi. the princess was still wrapped and almost completly engulfed by [name]’s figure, who was acting as a protective barrier between the two women.

“these people aren’t familiar with the desert, but you are. you — are coming with us to retrieve more wood,”

“ha, over my dead body,” [name] spoke in a cold tone, threateningly stepping closer to the woman. he felt vivi’s hand wrap around his wrist to stop him, but he didn’t even falter in his steps, “like hell i’ll let her go out there with you, someone who just tried murdering her,”

“[name], stop! it’s fine!” vivi cried out, feet digging into the sand to stop [name] from pummelling the woman in front of them, “it’s best if i go with luffy anyway, i can drive one of the sleds,”

“then i’m coming with you,” [name] said stubbornly, turning his gaze to the princess, “that idiot is just going to suffocate you in more trouble,”

“no, the sleds only can fit two people at a time,” she informed him, making a displeased look come onto his face.

“then you’re not going,” he finalized, but she simply shook her head.

“i want to go, i’ll be fine,”

seeing how determined she was to assist luffy, [name] finally gave up and allowed her to board the sled. before they had set off, though, he grabbed the woman’s arm, the one that tried attacking him and vivi, and glared through her soul.

“if she comes back with a scratch, i’m killing you and this entire shit crew,” he squeezed her wrists tight to emphasize this point, “understand?”

she scoffed, trying to free her arm from [name]’s hold. cursing under her breath when she realized that the grip he had ensnared around her wrist was iron-strong.

”whatever,”

that left [name] unsatisfied, but he let her go.

he backed off, crossing his arms over his chest as he joined the rest of his own crew.

“what was that, [name]? seriously, do you not know how to play nice to others?” nami asked, sighing and rubbing her forehead. she thought back to [name]’s hostile attitude on drum island.

“just…staying on guard, we don’t know these people,” [name] explained.

“not everyone is bad,” usopp added in.

“no, not everyone is. but it’s better to be safe than sorry. remember, not all pirate crews are as forgiving as ours,” [name] said, turning from the group and boarding back onto the ship.

the longer his captain and friend were away the more angsty he was beginning to feel. he tried to not think about it too much, but his guard was still up. if these people weren’t who they were presenting themselves to be, he’d be the first to beat them up.

but then, vivi and luffy returned, with bright smiles on their faces. [name] met them as soon as they got their sand sled to stop, asking them if they were alright. the princess seemed to hesitate for a moment before nodding and thanking [name] for being so vigilent.

“[name]!!” luffy cheered, throwing himself onto [name] and hugging him tightly. [name] finally cracked a smile, sending some of the crew into states of relief ([name]’s stoic face was scarier than a lot of them thought), and held onto luffy. “what’d you guys do while we were gone?”

”nothing, just thinking,” [name] answered with a shrug.

“don’t think too much, [name], i don’t know if you’d be able to handle that!” luffy said, seriously looking concerned, which only made [name] shake him off in annoyance.

“don’t insinuate that i’m more stupid than you!”

“now that we’ve settled business here though, don’t you think it’s time to set off?” zoro asked, making everyone else nod in agreement.

in no time, the group was packed up and venturing back into the heartless desert. and ace was no longer missing, coming up to the group riding some weird creature and dragging a sled behind him.

[name] immediately jumped off of zoro’s back, making the swordsman curse him for making him carry him in the first place, and ran up to his personal heater. he hugged him and almost knocked the both of them down onto the sand, if it weren’t for ace steadying them.

“where the hell have you been?” [name] breathed out, selfishly taking ace’s hat off of his head and putting it on himself.

“no, the question is where did you guys go - i was on the right track,” ace scolded, flicking [name]’s forehead and then looking past him and at the rest of the crew.

“what is this thing?” luffy asked as he looked at the odd reptile ace was riding on, attaching himself to [name]’s back as he joined the two.

[name] only grinned in happiness, coming to the late realization that he was back with the two most beloved men in his life. and they were all standing together. he made sure the hold he had on ace was tight and didn’t bother shaking luffy off of his back.

“doesn’t matter,” ace brushed the question off, turning around and motioning over to the sled, “i brought plenty of food and water,”

“oh! much appreciated! this should be more than enough for a good while,” sanji said, relieved to see that they now had a steady supply of food and water.

the crew went on to comment how ace was so responsibile compared to both luffy and [name]. vivi chimed in thought, a voice of concern, “don’t tell me…ace-san, you stole from that village?”

[name] looked up at ace, wondering the same thing. ace recognized the steely look in [name]’s face, as if the man was ready to scold him if he answered wrong, and began to sweat from stress.

“nothing of the sort! the rebel army — or more like the fake rebel army — gave it to me,” ace said, clearing up the story for both vivi and [name]. the h/c haired man nodded his head in pleasure at the answer and ace felt himself breathe a sigh of relief.

“fake? what do you mean fake?”

”they call themselves the rebel soldiers, but really, they’re just a band of hoodlums,” ace explained.

at his explanation, [name] couldn’t help but feel somewhat relieved for the villagers. according to ace, most bandits weren’t going to risk it with even testing the rebel army based on name alone, so the village was left alone for the most part. and even though the hoodlums were most definitely manipulating the population of citizens, they did keep them safe, to an extent.

vivi seemed to agree with [name]’s opinion, but before they ventured off, she wanted to actually test the group of fake rebel soldiers. [name] grinned, feeling excited to do something else besides walking around the desert the whole time.

[name] began laughing, holding his stomach at the idea of bullying these poor frauds. ace scolded him lightly, “don’t be so sadistic about this, [name]. you look like you’re going to enjoy this a bit too much,”

“because i am, ace, imagine their faces,” [name] said, his shoulders moving up and down as he let out another hearty laugh.

“unbeleviable,” ace said, roughly ruffling [name]’s hair with a fond smile.

vivi began to explain, wanting all of them besides ace to act as merciless pirates. [name] nodded happily at the role given to him, humming his signature song to keep himself excited.

“hey, i remember that song,” ace breathed out, squeezing [name] tight to his chest, “i haven’t heard it since foosha village, though,”

“it’s one of a kind, of course you haven’t heard it before,” [name] said cockily making ace laugh at his comment.

“i really missed that song,” ace said quietly under his breath.

“hey, hey, lover boy, we’re about to get the show on the road,” zoro called out nonchalantly, making [name] whip his head around and slap him in the face.

“don’t ever repeat those words ever again, you ugly sea moss! i’d rather kill myself!!!”

“oh, in that case: lover b-”

[name] kicked zoro in the stomach, effectively making him shut up before he could finish his sentence. and as zoro was kneeling on the ground clutching his abdomen, [name] grabbed him by the collar and began dragging him through the sand.

“idiot marimo,” [name] breathed out, throwing zoro ahead so he could stand up by himself. “take your place, stupid swordsman!!!”

“i’ll kill you after this,” zoro rasped out, seemingly still out of breath due to [name]’s kick.

the sight that played out in front of them was a little bit pathetic, but [name] appreciated the guts that these fakes had. soon after their leader had punched luffy, vivi and nami gave a signal from the rocks to get them to retreat. [name] laughed, grabbing zoro by the collar again and making him run at his pace so they could get out of there.

“bastards! everyone run, that’s the real rebel soldiers for you!!” sanji shouted.

“they’re the scariest men i’ve ever encountered!” usopp followed driving the point home.

“i’m so scared!!” [name] laughed, not really helping as his tone of voice sounded far too happy to be actually “scared.”

“i’m terrible at plays like this,” zoro said under his breath, pink cheeks showing just how embarrassed he was.

“wah, zoro, that’s the hardest i’ve ever seen you blush, how endearing,” [name] teased, pinching the man’s cheeks as he spoke.

for the rest of the journey, [name] stayed right in between zoro and ace. he wanted to stay near ace, for obvious reasons, and kept zoro close because the swordsman had a more mellowed out personality.

and for how hot, tired, and dehydrated [name] was, he didn’t need to be caught up in all of luffy’s shenanigans. usopp, sanji, and chopper could fill that area for him, just for now.

“so, ace, was [name] always a big dumbass?” zoro asked out of nowhere, making the referred to man almost jump at him to beat him up. ace’s arm around his waist held him from doing so, though.

“yep, even worse when he was a kid,” ace said, humming in thought, “i guess now he became more aware of it,”

“liar! i’m not a dumbass, you’re just trying to make me look bad right now!” [name] shouted in an accusatory tone.

“hm, let me think,” ace ignored [name]’s complaints, only making said complaints grow louder at the prospect of being ignored, “well, there was one time he thought he was drinking orange juice and it turned out to be booze. then there was another time he accidentally almost cut his entire arm off with his sword, something about how was pretending to be a samurai in front of the mirror and got carried away. oh! he also-”

“that’s enough!!!” [name] interuppted, clamping ace’s mouth shut with his hands. then he turned to zoro with a pleading look in his eyes, “just forget you heard him say any of that — they’re all lies anyway,”

“pretending to be a samurai in the mirror, huh?” zoro teasingly echoed, the words making [name] want the ground to swallow him whole, “i’m never forgetting that, dumbass!! haha!”

“ace, you’re my sworn enemy, aren’t you?” [name] asked as he tried moving farther from the man.

ace quickly realized this and captured [name] by an arm resting around his shoulder. he leaned down and whispered into [name]’s ear, “c’mon, you know you love me!”

[name]’s eyes widened at ace’s tone and how close he was, but he quickly got it together by slamming his open palm onto ace’s face, “fuck off, creep! don’t talk to me like that ever again!”

nami and vivi had a good view of everything happening around them from atop lashes. the navigator laughed at ace and [name], “they kind of do quarrell like lovers,”

“it’s impressive how forward ace seems to be with [name],” vivi commented making nami hum in agreement.

“do you think luffy has the capabilities of being like that too? wonder if its a trait that ace developed on his own or if it could be shared between them cause of how they grew up…” vivi’s voice trailed off in thought.

they paused and looked at luffy, who was moaning and whining about the lack of water, and they both uniamously decided, “there’s no way he could ever conjure up thoughts like those,” nami sweat dropped, vivi nodding in agreement.

after ace’s insistence on keeping [name] close, he finally got the h/c haired man to settle down and the two walked together again. they decided to make a stop for some food and water, settling on top of some rocks.

[name] and ace sat atop of one that overlooked the entire camp.

“ace, when are you gonna be leaving?” [name] asked, digging into his food.

their robes were discarded, seeing as they were in the shade, and since they were no longer in the blazing heat, [name]’s mood had improved tremendously. he was speaking in softer tones and had a pleased look on his face.

“i’m not sure, but with how badly it sounds like you want me gone, i might leave soon,” [name] frowned at ace’s teasing, making the freckled man laugh, “but i really don’t know when. i missed you a lot too, so i’m trying not to think too much about leaving,”

[name] nodded in understanding, leaning his head on ace’s shoulder as he put his plate down, “you’re an idiot,”

“oh? what’d i do this time?”

“for not joining us and instead dragging yourself into whitebeard’s crew, damn geezer,” [name] said bitterly, playing with the laces of ace’s boots. said man looked at [name] lovingly, eyes softening noticeably.

“i know, i know,” ace said gently, rubbing up and down [name]’s tattooed back, “i guess i did break my promise,”

“yeah, don’t think i forgot,” [name] said with a real frown, “i’ll never forgive you for that. when you promised that, ace, i really thought you were gonna keep your end of the deal,”

ace sighed, sensing that [name] was seriously upset with him. so he turned his torso towards [name] and grabbed both sides of his face, “i still care about you, y’know?” [name] rolled his eyes, trying to break free from ace’s hold, but the man didn’t budge, “i’m really sorry, but i’ll make it up to you some way,”

“yeah, how’d you plan on doing that?”

“marrying you, of course,” ace smiled. but it wasn’t a cheeky grin that [name] usually saw after ace said ridiculous things like that. it was a genuine smile, one that was usually only reserved for [name] — not that the man knew that, of course. there was a side of ace that he didn’t reveal to anyone but [name], after all.

this type of vulnerablity would send his closest friends on whitebeard’s ship into a coma from pure shock.

“you’re gonna seriously marry me?” [name] asked, not looking impressed.

“yeah, undying love, i already got the vows half written in my head,” ace said, flicking the brim of his hat on [name]’s head with a smile, “i’m just waiting for the right time,”

“and when’s the right time then?”

“the next time we see each other, i’ll definitely propose to you,”

[name] laughed, leaning into ace’s side even more. the whitebeard pirate had a smirk on his face as he threw his arm around [name]’s shoulder, “you’re funny, ace,”

“just promise me you’ll say yes when i do,”

“pft, in your dreams. i’d never seriously marry a dumbass like you,” [name] said, further pressing himself into ace’s warmth. “and!! as if i’d make a promise to you when you can’t even make a promise that you’d keep!! so you can just fuck off,”

“ah, [name], you wound my heart,” ace said, clenching his chest as a ways of showing how “in pain” he was.

suddenly, he knocked the side of his head onto [name]’s before standing up. “come with me,” he said quickly, taking [name]’s wrist in his warm hand and dragging him off.

“but, ace, i’m still cooling off!” [name] whined, trying to stop himself from being tugged, but with one sharp pull from ace, he had no other choice. ace dragged [name] far away from the camp, seemingly following an invisible path that [name] couldn’t see.

ace hopped onto a rock and [name] followed, blinking in surprise when he saw two little children in front of him.

“the badlands, huh?” ace echoed, looking down at the two siblings. “from that rustic nowheresville?”

“ace, who are these kids? you know them?” [name] asked in confusion, wondering why they seperated from the group for this.

”who are you? you can’t have this food back?”

the food, [name] thought in confusion. he peered intently at the two, seeing that they were shielding a piece of meat away from him and ace. putting two and two together, he concluded that these kids probably just stole from their base.

well, whatever, they could’ve had as much food as they wanted if they had just asked, [name] thought to himself.

then out of nowhere, one of them pulled a gun from behind their back. [name] whistled at the sight, leaning against ace’s side as they stared directly at the barrel of the gun. the boy holding it suddenly moved their aim at [name], making the h/c haired man quirk his eyebrow in anticipation.

with a bang, the gun had went off and a bullet came shooting out. [name] didn’t bother moving though, because in an instant ace had thrown a small pebble into the line of fire and stopped the bullet from going anywhere near his person.

“hey, kids, don’t play with dangerous things like that so casually,” [name] warned, wagging his finger back and forth as he scolded them.

“good little boys should be brushing their teeth before sleepy-bye,” ace commented, looking down at the two with a grin.

“i have a favor to ask!! there’s someone i want you to catch,” one of them shouted desperately, “i’ll pay you one million beri if you get rid of them!…i can’t pay it right now, but i will pay it when i grow up!”

[name] kneeled down in front of the kids, “who is it? someone messing with you?” he asked, tone calm as he spoke. nami and usopp were now standing behind him and ace, but he didn’t pay them any mind.

“please! find this man!” a dirtied photo was shoved into [name]’s face and he leaned back to get a good look at the picture. “my brother and i’ve followed him out here to the badlands. his name is scorpion, he’s a bounty hunter.”

the rest of the straw hats, minus luffy, were now surrounding these two children.

“why do you guys have business with a bounty hunter?” nami asked in concern, seeing how young and small the children were.

as they were about to answer, ace spoke up, “i have business with him too. a man in yuba was said to defeat blackbeard, his name was scorpion. my reason for going to yuba is to talk to him,”

“ace, do you really think this guy defeated blackbeard?” usopp asked, looking at the photo with an unimpressed look on his face.

“well, the only way to find out is to meet him. you wanna come, [name]?”

[name] glanced at the two children for a moment before solidifying that he’d go along, “yeah, if the kids are asking for it, then i have to do it,” he said with a stern voice.

another moment that the crew realized [name] was more terrifying than he often let on. that stoic look on his face, the way his voice seemed to drop octaves when he became more serious. he just became scarier in times like that.

“a-ace…? [name]? like fire fist ace?!” the boys shouted, then pointing at [name], “you’re the cursed orphan - we’ve heard of you!”

[name] grinned in glee, “you wanna be like me when you grow up, don’t ya?” he said with a proud tone to his voice.

“i don’t think anyone wants to be as psychotic as you!” usopp shouted, having whiplash from the personality switch he had just witnessed.

[name] furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “but hey, why do you want us to take care of that old guy? what’s he done?” he asked.

just as the boys were about to answer, ace suddenly stood up and looked out in the horizon.

“two people, and…” ace said out of nowhere, eyes squinted as he looked into the distance.

“a bird,” [name] finished the sentence, making the crew turn to them in confusion.

a second later, chopper’s nose twitched as he also picked up on the scents that were coming towards them.

“fire fist ace!!! i’m here to take your head and collect your bounty!” the old man on the bird proclaimed and upon closer inspection, everyone soon realized it was the scorpion that the kids were searching for.

“that’s a little pathetic,” [name] said under his breath, showing an unimpressed look on his face, “i’m not really for beating up pathetic looking guys,”

“oh, everyone? you’re here?” luffy’s voice shouted, looking at his crew that were standing around ace and [name].

“luffy?! what are you doing here?” everyone but zoro and ace shouted in unison.

“hey, ace, this fight is serious, don’t pull your punches!!” luffy laughed, teeth on display.

“i wasn’t planning to!” ace shot back, before composing himself, “but there’s something i wanna ask him, too!!”

“here i come, fire fist ace!!”

[name] moved aside, not wanting to be involved any longer see as he put two and two together. so instead, he took a seat on the stone and watched the fight commence.

ace packed up the fight pretty quickly, a single punch to the man’s stomach being able to knock him out of the fight completely. it was a pathetic sight and [name] was glad it was put to an end sooner rather than later.

“stop, dad!!” the voice of the boys that were hiding behind the rock shouted.

“dad?!” they all shouted in unison, minus [name] who let a smile creep onto his face.

“cute,” he said under his breath, watching as the boys worriedly ran to the arms of their father. it was a heartwarming sight, one that he wasn’t used to seeing in the cruel world that was full of heartless pirates and marines.

so he took in the sight and hugged his knees to his chest. a gentle smile was on his face and he rested his cheek against his palm. a crew member caught the serene look on [name]’s face and their own expression softened in surprised at the sight.

when he looked relaxed like that, he was actually quite handsome, they thought to themselves. 

then the bazooka that the dad was carrying was dropped onto the ground. he traded the bazooka to properly hug his crying children and bringing them into his arms.

the gun had rolled off of the sandy dune and accidentally fired off into the stone pillar behind them.

the crew watched with shocked eyes as everything above their heads began to crumble. [name] acted quick, as did ace.

ace made the stones fire backwards with an attack that knocked over other stone pillars as well and [name] quickly transported himself, using soru, to go right next to the family. he made sure to have a hold on all of them before using the technique once more to move away from the falling debris.

“[name]!” the two children shouted in shock, holding onto his pant leg with clenched fists.

“are you all right?” he gently asked, patting down their ruined hair, “you’re troublesome kids, huh? you’re worrying your dad and even worrying me,” [name] joked. the kids tearfully looked at their father who was, thanks to [name], unharmed.

“hey, old man, did you die?” luffy asked, kneeling down to get a good look at scorpion’s face.

“don’t be ridiculous!” the man gruffly said, sitting upright and collecting his kids into his arms. “scorpion-sama is indestructible!”

[name] clicked his tongue at the father’s attempt in easing his kids’ minds, shaking his head in amusement.

the family soon collected themselves, said their thanks to the crew and ace, and were ready to be on their way. [name] walked ahead of the crew and caught the father on his wrist.

everyone watched in curiousity as [name] leaned into the man’s ear and whispered something to him. in a couple of seconds after saying that, the man nodded his head, newfound tears in his eyes, and gave [name] a rough pat on the shoulder.

then they all bid each other goodbye with wide waves and smiles.

unfortunately, seeing as blackbeard was no longer in alabasta, ace had no reason to be there anymore.

i jinxed it, [name] thought to himself, sighing in forlorn.

“where are you gonna go now?” sanji asked.

“scorpion said that blackbeard was seen somewhere west of here, so i’ll head in that direction,” ace replied easily, digging into his pocket and pulling out a white scrap of paper. he threw it to luffy, who caught it with a confused look on his face, “always hang on to that,”

“what? it’s just a white scrap of paper,” luffy said, blinking owlishly.

”that scrap of paper will bring you and me together again sometime,” ace informed the group, making luffy open the paper up to its full size, “it’s natural for a big brother to worry about his bungling kid brother.”

ace’s smile was so wide that his eyes turned into crescent moons and [name] felt nothing but bliss when he saw the sight.

“he might be a bit much for you to handle, but take good care of ‘im,” a polite bow followed, “and luffy, the next time we meet, we’ll be top pirates. come to the top! and who knows, if you try really hard, then you might have a higher bounty than [name] when that time comes!”

“impossible,” [name] grinned, making luffy shake his head with steam coming out of his ears.

“i definitely will!”

“and speaking of,” ace said, grabbing [name] by his forearm and whisking him away, “gotta give a private farwell to [name]!!”

the crew watched as ace dragged [name] ahead, luffy calling out, “oi! don’t bother trying to steal him from me, jackass!!” as a safety precaution.

ace turned the corner to have [name] leaning against one of the rock pillars surrounding them. he dug into his pocket and pulled out another white scrap of paper, “this is yours,”

“huh? but you already gave one to luffy, i can just-”

“i want you to have your own,” ace cut him off. and as he put the piece of paper into [name]’s hand, he lifted his hand up and took his hat off of [name]’s head and returned it to its rightful place.

“ace-”

“i don’t want this to be a mushy goodbye, i just wanted to have you to myself before i left,” ace confessed, holding [name] tight by the shoulders, “we’ll meet again, [name], and when we do, i’ll keep my end of the deal, promise,”

[name] laughed at ace’s childish promise that he made earlier, but didn’t poke fun at it. whether or not he actually said yes or not could be something he worried about later.

for now, it was just him and ace and the desert around them.

“i’ll make sure to find you, someway,” ace said, bringing [name]’s hand into his own, “i’ll miss you,”

[name]’s lip quivered, wondering why it was so hard to say bye to ace this time, when it was such a breeze before. ace chuckled at [name]’s expression, taking him in by the back of his neck and forcing him into a tight hug.

without hesitation, arms were wrapped around ace’s waist.

“together,” [name] said against the skin of ace’s chest.

“in chaos,” ace finished, pulling away and proudly showing off the tattooed ink on his ribs. the words they said to each other was etched into his skin permanently in a neat print. right over where his heart was.

“fucking idiot.” [name] cursed, collecting himself to some extent.

he folded up the white paper, pushing it to be safe under the cloth tied around his wrist and he slapped ace on the shoulder.

“you kill blackbeard and go straight to whitebeard,” [name] commanded, making ace nod his head with a grin on his face.

“obviously,”

“then, i’ll see you next time, ace!”

although the goodbye was painful, [name] knew that there was nothing to worry about. last time, he thought it’d be years until he saw ace again. then coincidentally, the two ran into each other again in alabasta, in a restaurant setting again.

it was fate, ace and [name] both thought in their heads, but never vocalizing.

when the two would see each other again, it’d be in a restaurant, on pure chance, and in complete stupor of the other one being there.

maybe it’d be in a quiet village where they weren’t wanted pirates. maybe it’d be in a small town where no one else knew their name, but each other.

and with that reminder ringing in [name]’s head, he felt no worry or stress as he waved ace goodbye.

-

[ .ᐟ ] very long chapter, but I COULDN’T HELP BUT INDULGE MORE IN ACE CONTENT I’M SORRY

[ .ᐟ ] also yes i am claiming my love mine all mine as ace and mcs song !!!!!!!! i am staking the claim here right now!!!!!!!  its theirs sorry (these playlists/song matchups are so fun to do and aces and mcs is ltr perfect i wish you guys knew how perfect it was but i guess we're just gonna have to WAIT) 

-

『 prev 』 ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🌊 ꒱ 『 next 』

-

taglist (lmk if u want to be tagged ! <3 :

@skullr0se, @strawberrii-tea, @triangulartriangles, @anotherlovefool, @haratatsu, @sinmp, @3v37773, @taru-nami,