#funny seeing the differences in their birthday fits

[hellsslibrary]

Can I request what rin, sae and hiori would do on the reader's birthday (you know nsfw stuff ♡)

Happy Birthday to Me or How I Lost the Ability to Walk Even Though I'm a Top (This is a quote from some manga I can't remember the name of but it fits here).

MASTERLIST is here.

#a.n. : I have absolutely nothing to say but if anyone is reading this on their birthday then happy birthday to you sweeties!!

!!Warnings: male!top!reader, bottom!characters, they're all sub but Sae is a little bit of a dom (I'm just a sucker for the "pathetic" top trope or something, you don't get it), Hiori's scenario is very funny and weird, very. In Sae's mentions clothes (you know), in Hiori's mentions video games (yeah), Rin is nothing special, he's the most normal one in this scenario I swear. Otherwise just praise, a little teasing and a very enthusiastic reader here.

Hiori Yo

"Is this...? What is this, Yo?" you ask in incomprehension, staring at his computer screen, trying to figure out what you actually see here.

Well, more precisely, you understood what you were seeing, but you clearly didn't understand why he was showing it.

"This is us, in Sims 4... Having sex. What is unclear?" he answers by tilting his head to the side with a slight blush coloring his cheeks, looking first at the screen and then at you.

"So my gift is watching porn with us, or rather with toy models of us?" you laugh when two people who look like you change their positions in a game that looks very good... unrealistic, but who really cares.

"No," Hiori shakes his head slowly, removing the headphones around his neck and placing them on the table, then poking you in the chest. "They can do it on any surface and in any position... If you like a certain pose, then we'll try it in reality."

You just blink like an owl, not understanding anything at all, but taking the mouse from him and poking it on the countertop, choosing random poses from the list, watching how sim of Hiori literally bends in different poses, which looks pretty hot, even if stupid.

It takes about fifteen minutes while you're pointing at various pieces of furniture and looking at all sorts of poses from different angles, sometimes you both giggle at some strange animations until one catches your eye.

"It," comes out of your mouth, and Hiori stares at the screen, watching his sim sit on the table while the life is practically being fucked out of him, judging by the pace of the thrusting.

"Really? Dear, it's a little..." the word doesn't come out of his mouth when he bites his lip in embarrassment, but after hesitating for a couple of seconds, he gets up from his chair, taking off his sweatpants along with his underwear and sitting on the edge of the table. "I'm already prepared, so you can just slide inside."

You immediately smile like a child who has received the most coveted sweet, and you almost frantically undo your belt, which is not particularly possible because of the trembling in your fingers. So you just unbutton your fly and take out your dick.

"Really? Can I do it raw?" Hiori hums in response to this question, and then shrugs his shoulder vaguely, spreading his legs as an answer, and squeaks when you squeeze his hips right there.

Hiori's back arches when he feels your cock sliding in at a much more gentle pace than your sims, who continue to fuck behind Hiori's back. His fingers grip the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white as his feet lightly scratch the table.

"Wrap your legs around me, please?"

Yo silently obeys, grabbing your shoulders instead, absolutely spoiling the pose, but neither of you really care anymore. After all, today is your day, and if that's what you want, then Hiyori wants to obey.

He moans softly into your neck as his legs lock over your tailbone and an intermittent whimper escapes his lips when your cock finally touches the right spot inside him. A point that makes him see the stars and the moon, which only you can bring.

The blue-eyed man feels his cock twitching against his stomach, and his orgasm is approaching embarrassingly fast, he just wants to cum. Why is it so fast? Who knows... But obviously not from the disgusting sounds of the game in the background.

"Cum for me, come on," you whisper, sliding your lips over his neck, making him tilt his head back in bliss.

Your teeth outline his adam's apple, causing his breathing to stop and his nails to dig into you this time. He bubbles something unintelligible when he feels your hand on his cock, rubbing its current tip, making him cum almost at the same second, which makes you slow down the thrusts slightly, making them deeper to prolong his pleasure for a couple of seconds.

"... More, go on," Hiori mutters after a dozen seconds, licking his dry lips and lifting his half-closed eyes at you and exhaling. "I'm all yours today, so keep going... I'll tell you when I'm at the very edge."

Sae Itoshi

"Are you going to stare at me with that expression for a long time? At least close your mouth," Sae says, looking at your surprised face in the doorway while you stare at him for about a minute, still trying to figure out what's sitting in front of you.

"That's... you... wow..." something inarticulate weakly escapes from your lips until you finally leave the doorway, closing the door and approaching Itoshi.

Of course, nothing too surprising was sitting on the bed. It was just Sae. In your usual T-shirt. In regular shorts. With a normal expression on his face. With damn attractive thigh-high stockings that accentuated his thick and muscular legs too well. Yes, you know, the usual Tuesday of any person.

"Do you like it that much?" Sae asks when a slight smirk blooms on his lips, watching you sit down in front of him, spreading and sliding his legs as you please.

"Yes, it suits you damn well, it's simple gorgeous... Strangle me with them," you whisper, squeezing his hips and exhaling contentedly, feeling the elastic muscles under your fingers.

Sae's fingers lift your chin and he gives you a light peck on the forehead before kissing you on the lips. His kiss is slow, almost savoring, as he weaves your tongues together, tugging at your shirt to get you up.

You lower Sae to the bed, continuing to kiss him, and then pulling away, lowering your lips lower, kissing and occasionally sucking on the delicate skin of his neck, causing a soft sigh to escape his lips before he stopped you at the edge of the T-shirt.

"Too fast. Don't go any further than the neck... Today is your day, but you have to earn it," the Japanese man whispers against your lips and then you feel his fingers slide into your pants while his other hand unbuttons your fly and releases your cock.

Your breath catches when you feel his fingers wrap around your heated flesh, and your face immediately finds itself in the curve of his shoulder, causing him to briefly pat you on the head.

"I'll give you what you want anyway. Just wait."

You bite your lip to keep from whimpering when Sae's thumb runs over your slit, and images of what he might let you do to him when the time comes are already spinning in your head.

Your hands are clutching the sheets on either side of his face, and his lips are lazily sliding over your neck, sucking on your skin, forcing you to push into his hand, which he freely allows.

"Sae... I will cum now, please," you exhale and feel only the nod of his head at your side as he speeds up his hand movements a little, making you come embarrassingly quickly with a groan.

Sae kisses you on the temple, removing his hand after a couple of seconds, when the buzz finally subsides and gently pushes you to your side, sitting up straight and taking napkins from the table, wiping his hand and your penis from the sperm.

"Good boy. Take a break and let's continue... There's a lot more under my clothes," Sae whispers, turning away to the trash can and deliberately bending over too much, exposing a thin strip of panties under his shorts, which makes your soft cock twitch in anticipation of the next round.

Rin Itoshi

"Is that really all you want? You can ask for more, you know," Rin whispers, leaning over you, shaking his head slightly and taking your condom-wrapped cock in his palm, stroking it a couple of times.

"Yes! Definitely, that's it. Please? I just want you to do this," you whisper, making Rin sigh, but nod and lower himself onto your cock slowly.

He exhales sharply as he takes you completely and places his hands next to your head, considering that he's almost lying on top of you and looking up at you with his turquoise eyes.

You just smile and kiss him on the cheek, which makes him frown slightly but blush, and he begins to gently move his hips. Of course, it's not very convenient in this position, but he promised.

"You're wonderful from this angle, otherworldly, Rinnie," Rin just tightening around you from the compliment, leaning in even lower and gagging you with a kiss, but hey, you're not complaining.

You put your hands on his cheeks, knowing full well that he's going to scold you, because he wants to take at least one round without your support, so you're not taking any chances.

Your tongues slide against each other, and then he pulls away with heavy breathing, resting his forehead on yours, maintaining his slow rhythm, looking down at where you connect.

"You're very deep, I want more," he whispers breathlessly, closing his eyes and focusing on his movements, trying not to rush too much, but to make it pleasant for both of you and not cum faster than you, not this time.

"Then take more, I don't mind," you close your eyes too, feeling his eyelashes lightly brush your forehead as his face slides forward a little and you squeeze his biceps, absolutely enjoying him.

"I love you. Happy birthday again," Rin says, forcing you to open your eyes and you are met with a surprisingly soft smile, albeit almost imperceptible on his face but fuck.... "...Did you just cum?"

"Uh..." You laugh shyly, grabbing Rin's hips to stop his movements, when they get a little painful from your sensitivity. "I love you too."

"The gods... Fuck me already, you're pathetic when I ride you," the younger Itoshi mutters, although there's no real mockery in his words, he just sighs when you flip you over, switching places and wrapping his legs around your waist.

[jrueships]

gay

anyways happy birthday jg 😎

[redbean-nom]

din djarin, age 10: clone wars refugee child

boba fett, age 11: in federal prison for destroying an entire venator while trying to kill mace windu

[yooniivrse]

uh oh, i'm falling in love | myg

summary. the night that yoongi realises you might be a lot more than just a close friend to his heart.

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: fluff, best friends to ??, one sided love? (up to reader's interpretation)

word count: 1.5k

warnings: none <333

notes: this was a request from my love, @perfectlyoongi-main. you can find the ask for this oneshot here. listening to labyrinth by taylor swift on repeat while writing this definitely made me feel very very single, but i loved writing this sm. as always, likes, comments, reblogs, asks and feedback is so so appreciated!! i hope you guys enjoy <333

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main masterlist

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You stop in front of the small, old-fashioned photo booth, hands on your hips as you look it over with mild scepticism.

It’s a flimsy structure tucked in a quiet corner of the mall, slightly worn down with chipped paint and a fading sign hanging above it. It’s the kind of booth that hasn’t been updated in years, where the pictures are low-quality and slightly off-colour, but you look at it with the excitement of someone who’s just discovered a hidden gem.

“I don’t think we’ll both fit inside,” you muse, tilting your head as if a different angle might magically increase its size.

Yoongi stands beside you, hands shoved into the pockets of his dark denim jacket, eyeing the booth with a barely hidden look of reluctance.

If he's being honest, he’d much rather be back home with you, watching movies in the comfort of his living room, eating pizza, and letting the night pass by as it usually does. It’s how he’s spent his birthdays for the past three years since meeting you, a quiet tradition he’d grown to look forward to. But this year, you’d insisted he get out of the house, brimming with excitement at the idea of taking him somewhere, refusing to tell him what you had planned.

And even though he could’ve turned you down, Yoongi knew he wouldn’t. Not with the way your face lit up when he agreed, that joyful glint in your eyes that made his heart beat just a little faster.

“Maybe we should just do this somewhere else,” he suggests, already eyeing the dim mall corridor as an escape route. “There’s no way we’re both fitting inside unless you sit on my lap or something.”

He means it as a joke, but the moment the words leave his mouth, he realises the weight they carry. His heart skips a beat as you turn to him with that playful smile he knows so well, eyes sparkling with a mix of determination and mischief.

“I don’t think—”

“Oh, come on! It’s your birthday,” you say, nudging him with your elbow. “And we’ve been best friends for long enough that it won’t be weird.”

Yoongi opens his mouth to respond, but the words seem to disappear before they can reach his lips. The suggestion should feel casual, even funny, but there’s a strange tension that settles in his chest, stopping him from brushing it off like he usually would. It’s the same tension that’s been creeping up more often these days, the one that leaves him feeling almost breathless whenever he’s around you.

“Unless,” you add with a sly smile, your expression feigning innocence, “you’d rather sit on my lap?”

He chuckles, the sound more nervous than he intended. “Fine. Whatever,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. But as he steps forward, he feels a strange warmth creeping into his cheeks, something uncomfortably close to anticipation.

You squeeze into the booth first, settling onto the small, tacky leather stool with a satisfied grin. You pat your lap playfully, but Yoongi only shakes his head, stepping into the cramped space behind you.

His heart thrums erratically as he settles onto the stool, his knees brushing against yours as he wraps his arms loosely around your waist, pulling you just close enough that you both fit within the booth’s limited space. You lean back against him, so naturally that he wonders if you can feel the way his heart races at the contact.

“See?” you say, glancing back at him with a grin. “This isn’t so bad.”

The camera’s light starts blinking, giving a brief warning before the first picture snaps. You immediately turn to him, nudging his cheek to bring him closer, and in the tight space, it’s all he can do to keep his balance as he leans in, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Smile!” you chirp just as the flash goes off.

The light catches him off guard, and he blinks, momentarily dazed by the brightness. He hears you laughing softly, your shoulders shaking against him, and he’s hit with a wave of warmth, one that spreads through him as he watches you, momentarily forgetting about the camera entirely.

With a slight grin, you shift in his lap, angling the two of you for another shot as the timer counts down again.

You’re so close he can feel the faint trace of your perfume, the warmth of your skin, the rhythm of your breathing as it syncs with his. And for some reason, the thought of being this close to you—closer than he ever thought he’d be—stirs something unexpected within him.

Another flash, capturing you mid-laugh, oblivious to the storm of emotions brewing within him.

As the countdown begins again, you glance back, your gaze meeting his, and Yoongi feels himself freeze. There’s a hint of something in your eyes—an invitation, perhaps, or maybe a question—that makes his heart race all over again.

His eyes drift to your smile, the soft curve of your lips, the brightness of your gaze, and he can’t ignore the way his own heartbeat echoes in his ears, loud enough that he’s sure you can hear it too.

The timer clicks down to the next flash, and he forces a smile for the camera, though his mind is elsewhere entirely. He’s trying to make sense of the strange rush of feelings flooding through him, feelings that have been building up slowly, subtly, over time.

The booth is quiet now, the only sound the soft hum of machinery and your shared breaths. You tilt your head slightly, resting it against his shoulder, and his entire world narrows down to this single moment. Yoongi feels his arms tightening around you, an instinctual gesture that’s both protective and vulnerable.

The timer clicks down to one last shot. "Alright, funny face!" you call out, pulling an exaggerated grin, and he chuckles, trying to shake off the gravity of his own emotions as he mirrors your expression. The flash captures the both of you, frozen in a moment of joy.

As the final picture fades, you stay in his arms a beat longer than necessary, and the realisation hits him like a tidal wave, too strong to ignore. This isn’t just friendship, he thinks, feeling a pang of something so overwhelming that it borders on painful. Somewhere along the line, he’s fallen in love with you, and he doesn’t know if there’s a way back.

But you’re oblivious, still laughing as you climb off his lap, crouching down to grab the strip of photos as they print out. “Look at this!” you say, waving them in front of his face. “I'm definitely hanging these up on my fridge.”

He blinks, his gaze lingering on you as you sort through the photos, laughing at the silly faces, the close-ups of your laughter, and his slightly dazed expressions. You’re so focused on the photos that you don’t notice the way he’s looking at you now, eyes soft with something deeper, something he can no longer deny.

“See, I told you that it'd be fun.” You glance up, still beaming, and he forces himself to nod, plastering a smile over the vulnerability he feels beneath the surface.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, his voice almost lost in the small space. “I guess it was.”

But even as he smiles, the weight of his realisation settles heavily in his chest, pressing down on him with a strange mixture of longing and fear.

He wonders if he’ll ever find the courage to tell you, or if he’ll spend his days hiding this quiet, aching love, content to stay by your side as a friend, the way he’s always been.

You turn to him, still laughing over one of the photos. “Hey,” you say softly, a note of seriousness creeping into your voice. “Thanks for tonight. I know this isn’t your usual birthday thing, but… it means a lot.”

And for a brief moment, he thinks about telling you everything. He thinks about confessing, about admitting that the thought of spending his life without you, without these small moments of joy and laughter, terrifies him more than anything else. But the words catch in his throat, stuck beneath the weight of a love he’s too afraid to speak out loud.

“Anytime,” he finally says, his voice a whisper, barely audible above the hum of the booth.

You look at him for a moment longer, a soft smile playing on your lips before you hand him one of the strips of photos. As you walk out of the booth, he follows behind you, trying to ignore the ache in his chest, the quiet, unspoken confession that lingers in the space between you.

Maybe one day, he'll find the courage to tell you how he feels; maybe one day, he'll get to be more than just your friend.

But until then, his love will stay hidden in the attic of his thoughts, known only to him.

And for now, that's enough.

[luveline]

hi hello!! I want to say I absolutely adore and love your writing and have for a few years now! I have a steve request (could fit with kbd or not!) (also so self indulgent lol) where reader grew up with a very emotionally distant father and was determined to make her own family so different than the one she grew up with, and sees steve be so kind and loving towards their children and is so happy her kids won’t feel how she does with her own father and thanks him for being wonderful 🫶🏽 sorry so long and personal but i know you would write this so beautifully!!

thank u for requesting! dad!steve x mom!reader, 1.4k

“What do you want to get your sister for her birthday?” 

You can barely hear his whispering, let alone Avery’s response. “We want…” she’s lisping and listing, unfamiliar with her own voice even as her vocabulary grows, “to get her… um, a big teddy bear.” 

“How big?” Steve whispers back. 

You hold Bethie’s face above your shoulder, your arm around her, the other patting the base of her spine. She’s getting heavy, but she’s only little. She can barely speak, only mumble nonsense into your neck as she fights sleep. “Shh, shh,” you shush her gently. “It’s okay, Bethie.” 

Across the landing, Avery and Steve lay on their stomachs in her room. There’s a pad of paper between them and crayons spilled rainbow across the carpet. Steve draws without looking up; he’s a brilliant artist even now he doesn’t have time for it. Avery chokes a purple crayon with each of her fingers and draws a huge jagged line under his work. “What’s that?” he asks. 

“Lightning. I think we should get her a big teddy, like, big as your hands.” 

“That’s not big in terms of teddy bear, honey.” 

“Oh.” 

“What’s the lightning for?” 

“The cloud.” 

“You want me to draw some puddles?” 

She thinks Steve being able to draw things near immediately is as magical as the television, and the radio. Something seemingly out of nothing. She doesn’t understand how often he’d practise, didn’t see his box of sketchbooks, the hundreds of iterations of your face, your hands, the trees lining the street on the way to your first apartment, her baby wrinkles. 

“What else should we get for Beth?” 

“Um.” Avery pauses, lifting her face to Steve’s. An odd feeling swells when he immediately looks up from the paper pad to meet her eyes. He smiles at her. She smiles back. “Why are we smiling?” she asks eventually. 

“I’m just looking at you. You know you’re beautiful.” 

“I don’t know!” she says, immediately flustered. 

“Yes, you do. You’re sooo pretty, like mommy.” He reaches over to chuck her chin gently with his knuckle. “That’s why I’m smiling. Looking at you makes me happy.” 

“Looking at you makes me happy.” 

His chin tucks in gently. “It’s ‘cos we love each other.” 

“Yes,” Avery says, like she’d suggested it herself. “That’s what it is.” 

You feel Beth fall asleep though you can’t see her. She curls into you all warm and soft, her pyjamas and her hair tickling you, her soft snores damp against your shoulder. You press a kiss to her arm.

Laid to bed for the night, you dot another kiss onto Beth’s smooth forehead and turn out her light, shutting the door carefully so as not to make any noise. 

Avery and Steve are still on the floor, though she’s climbed over the pad to hug him. They look funny, both on their tummies, Steve’s long legs out. He’s sort of curling around her, his nose to the side of her neck, his one arm up on an elbow and the other behind her back. 

“I love you too,” he’s saying. 

“A lot.”

“Yeah, Avery. So much they don’t have a word for it.” 

“It’s a big feeling.” 

“Love is the biggest feeling.” 

She laughs as he starts to tip onto his side. One moment she’s on her belly and the next he’s pulled her onto his chest, totally corkscrewed her and then put her right. “Let’s stay here forever,” he says. 

You’re pretty sure your father would’ve had a heart attack rather than confess he liked you. It’s a weird thing to know you’re loved —to be told you’re loved without being told, to expect it because you should— but to feel the absence of it more strongly. Your father never would’ve laid down with you like that. He wouldn’t have kissed you behind the ear, or talked about big feelings without hesitation. He never looked after you like that. 

“Your back will hurt.”

“Avery, my back always hurts.” 

“Not good. You can go to the hospital.” 

“I don’t think I’ll go to hospital, I’ll,” —he feels you watching, and smiles at you as he tips his head to see you— “be okay without that. Maybe I’ll go to the doctor at his office instead.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” He rubs her back. “Thanks, honey.”

Later, after you’ve knelt down to draw with them for a while and Avery’s succumbed to the childhood pain of feeling sleepy, you’re sliding clean towels onto a shelf in the linen closet with Steve beside you choosing new sheets for the next two (or four depending on how busy things get) weeks. It’s not work that needs talking, and after a few years together you start to run out of things to say, but you decide you’ll fill it anyway. 

“Thanks.” 

“For what?” 

“You’re a good dad.”

Steve kisses your cheek, squeezing your arm as he bundles the new linens to his chest and passes back out of the closet. You follow him out. 

“Hey, I mean it,” you say. 

Steve looks at you in surprise. “Oh, sorry. That’s the miscommunication thing, right? I was supposed to say something, not just kiss you.” 

“No, I don’t need you to acknowledge me, Steve.” You laugh softly, “Just need you to know. You’re such a good dad. It means a lot to me that you’re so good because I know they can feel it. The girls.” You clear your throat. 

You hadn’t been expecting to get teary. Heat burns behind your eyes unbidden. 

Steve’s eyebrows jump. “You’re upset?” 

“It’s such a relief to know you’re you.” 

And Steve must understand how you feel about it, his parents stunningly absent for the majority of his teen years and even now. You don’t see them much, but when you do you’re greeted with handshakes and strange looks, like this is a blip in both of your lives. Like somehow your children will grow themselves and Steve can be the man they wanted him to be. He knows what it’s like to be alone and not enough. To miss the mark. To physically feel the space between you and the person who should love you most. 

He puts the linens on the end of the bed before standing in front of you. Your cheek is warm in his hand when he gives it a brief squeeze, your shoulder less so, your hand similarly cold. He threads your fingers together for a playful yank. “What are you thinking about?” he asks seriously. 

“Avery’s never gonna question if you love her.” 

He shakes his head. “Nope.” 

“You’re very emotionally mature.” 

“Wouldn’t say that.” 

“Me neither.” 

He looks tired tonight, hair falling into his eyes, t-shirt ill-fitting, rumpled at the hem, and his voice slightly scratchy as he murmurs, “Loving you makes me who I am, maybe you should be thanking yourself.” His lips twitch. “I should’ve said that at our wedding.” 

“You should’ve, I bet your mom would’ve cried.” 

“I doubt it.” 

He opens his arms invitingly, and you fall into one another for a quick, tight hug. You’d been expecting a longer embrace with a sweeter touch, but you know why he’s doing it this way: he doesn’t want to cry before bed, and the wound of your absent parents is a weary one. It’s taken too much time and energy from you both already. 

“Love you,” he says. 

You weasel your head back to take him in, savouring the stretch of his hands behind your shoulders and his genuine smile. “Biggest feeling in the world,” you say. 

“Liked that one?” he asks, encouraging your face back into his neck. “You gave me a family,” he adds, quieter, “I don’t really get how there are parents walking around who aren’t obsessed with their kids. I love them so much I can’t breathe sometimes. All i want is to make sure they know that… I was looking at Avery earlier and I couldn’t believe she was mine.”

“Steve.” 

“I think she has my two moles on her cheek. That’s crazy.” 

“What?” 

You and Steve creep into her bedroom to investigate. Sleeping, she’s his carbon copy, and sure enough, on her right cheek just adjacent to her lips, she has two small moles just like him. 

[sabrondabrainrot]

Bring back LAES!

I'm steadily making progress on catching up on sun and moon show along with foxy and monty etc etc but it's pretty difficult when one of the main key plot lines is gone. I know a few spoilers thanks to fanfiction but I want to see the drama in person.

Here's some outfit ideas for tsams cause I'm a sucker for fashion and redesigns!

Order is, SolarFlare - Lunar - NewMoon - Old Moon - Sunny (Solar's dimension) - Sun

closeups and more brainrot under the cut!

Explaining my redesigns! Lunar - he's not really a redesign and more so an overdesign. I love adding tons of little details to him to really hammer home his star-ness. He's such an interesting little guy, like yes he acts childish but I can see he's really growing (SAD I CANT WATCH MORE CAUSE THE SHOW IS GONE). I saw the ep he killed Eclipse and homeboy revived. The entire time I was like "Waaahh Lunar??? Waaahhh???" but I love the drama ngl.

SolarFlare - Same as Lunar, not really a redesign I just drew him with no dirt. I really love his base design it's so neat it makes me think of like sci-fi concepts from the 80's. Something from fallout really. I think it's kind of funny Eclipse's aesthetics for SolarFlare when you compare him next to say Jack who Solar designed.

OldMoon - I just wanted to give him a sleek mad scientist cool guy suave vibe. I saw the more recent thumbnails of him with a turtle neck and idk that's just peak character design for me. I'm a simple woman put the dumb-dumb in a dark turtleneck. I want him to kind of look like the BadGuy TM (he's not actually) so he gets all edgy and hard edges and stuff.

NewMoon - I wanted to do a similar color scheme but instead he has lighter colors like more white incorporated into his fit. To give him the whole 'reborn' aesthetic. He's all like "old moon wore black well I wear white now I'm nothing like him so hah!" kinda thinking. I gave his cap a fur texture cause of that one ep he turned into a furry. I drew rounder stuff on him cause he's a big ol' softy sweety pie.

Sunny - Sunny is my headcanon of Sun from Solar's dimension. I think it's really interesting his default with no personality was theater performance and not say...doing daycare stuff? I feel like honoring the FNAF books with this design by leaning heavily into the theater performer look. I like to think in Solar's dimension Sun and Moon were originally made for theater. (so far in the show I've noticed Creator says 'they needed a daycare attendant' something like that so it comes off more like they were intended for the daycare from the start VS. Solar's dimension where Sunny's core seems to be more so for the performing arts.) I also wanted to make Sunny look different from Sun for the extra angst potential of "They're similar but not the same" so I leaned more into a blue palette for him.

Sun - I just wanted to give him big puffy everything. I took away the tutu. nothing against the tutu I just hate drawing the damn thing. I like to think Sun in main has white eyes because he's so burnt out from within. *badum tish* (eyes are the window to the soul-) I also covered him in stickers because he totally would just be covered in stickers from the kids. I also decided to give some of his rays cracks because I think he's extremely sentimental and even in a newly upgraded body (after using star power to defeat Eclipse the first time) he'd keep rays from his original body? I also put the cracks ones on the side of his face where Old Moon hit him. Why? Because it just seems like something Sun would do. I love him so.

Ok just some brainrot stuff, look away to avoid spoilers .

RUIN DESTROYED HOW MANY DIMENSIONS?? SOLARS DEAD. LUNAR KILLED ECLIPSE. DARK SUN IS PLOTTING??? MOON BE CRYING??? Also Francine just had a birthday! ONE OF THE BLOODMOON BOYS ARE DEAD AND SAME WITH ONE OF THE STITCHY BOYS??? HELLO?!?

I love the drama.

Also, I love how every single kid vibe checks Sun and he passes every time. Francine? She loves Sun and learns from him. FC? He ONLY feels safe with Sun for a bit. Barry? He hugged Sun after gonad checking him (a right of passage for the bunny kid). Jack? I'm pretty sure he literally is just one room away from Sun at all times (he also calls Sun's cats his master???). I have yet to see Dazzle, but Dazzle 10000% loves Sun (I've seen the edits).

ALSO? When Lunar was first brought into the family the first person he hugged was Sun and then later on when Earth was in danger he ran into SUN's arms for safety/comfort. They're family your honor.

Sobbing and Crying laying on the floor over Solar's death but I think he'll be back.

Also the molten thing with Ruin? I'm excited to see more.

I don't have a youtube account to post about saving LAES but if anyone wants me to draw more LAES just to help the community please let me know. I'm planning to draw my idea of Earth next.

[charmed-quill]

Burrow Bound// B.W x Reader Chapter 9

Authors note at end.

originally requested by @littlegreenteacup

summary: Y/N, an American half-blood witch newly arrived in Muggle London, stumbles into the warmth of the Weasley brothers after a serendipitous meeting in Diagon Alley. Drawn into their world, she finds herself at the Burrow more often than not. Meanwhile, Bill Weasley is learning to navigate life as a single father, relying on his mother’s help to care for Victoire. Though their worlds orbit each other, Y/N and Bill’s paths never seem to align—until one evening when fate finally draws them together. Will it be the start of a love story, or will they be left with nothing but heartache?

Next Chapter

Last Chapter

word count: 2.2k

The late afternoon sun cast warm, golden light over the yard as Y/N sat cross-legged on the grass, surrounded by Victoire and her assortment of new birthday gifts. The little girl was gleefully sorting her dragon figurines into their new treasure chest, her curls bouncing as she moved from one pile to another.

“Look, Y/N!” Victoire said, holding up a sparkling purple dragon. “This one’s guarding the treasure because it’s the bravest!”

Y/N grinned, leaning closer. “A very wise choice. Every treasure hoard needs a brave protector.”

Victoire beamed and carefully placed the dragon at the center of her makeshift scene. Y/N glanced over her shoulder to see Bill and George in the distance, gathering discarded plates and cups from the party. George was talking animatedly, while Bill appeared to be listening with an expression somewhere between amusement and exasperation.

“Alright, darling,” Y/N said, brushing some grass from her jeans. “You keep sorting your treasures. I’m going to grab some water. Be right back, okay?”

Victoire nodded seriously, fully engrossed in her task.

Y/N headed toward the house, passing George, who gave her a sly grin as she went by. She caught the tail end of his comment to Bill

“I’m just saying, mate, she’s brilliant.”

Bill groaned audibly, his shoulders tensing. “Not you too, George. What is it with everyone today?”

George raised his eyebrows, feigning innocence. “What’s what?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” Bill replied, tossing a crumpled napkin into a trash bag with more force than necessary. “Charlie, Mum, Ginny, and now you. It’s like the whole family’s conspiring against me.”

George held up his hands, mock-surprised. “Conspiring? Against you? That’s a bit dramatic, even for you, big brother.”

Bill stopped and turned to face him, arms crossed. “You’ve all been dropping hints about Y/N since she showed up. It’s not subtle.”

“Hints?” George said, smirking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just making observations.”

“Observations,” Bill repeated flatly, narrowing his eyes. “About how great she is? How wonderful she is with Victoire? How I should, what, sweep her off her feet?”

George laughed, leaning on the table he’d just cleared. “Well, I wasn’t going to say it, but now that you mention it…”

“George.” Bill’s voice carried a warning, but there was no real heat behind it.

George straightened up, his expression softening. 

“Look, no one’s trying to meddle, okay maybe Mum is, but the rest of us? We just really like her. She’s... different.”

Bill frowned, picking up a few discarded cups and stacking them absently. “Different how?”

“Different like... she fits,” George said simply. “She’s been around for a few months now, and it feels like she’s always been part of things. She’s kind, funny, doesn’t take herself too seriously. And let’s not forget how she handled the Canary Cream incident. That’s rare.”

Bill let out a short laugh despite himself, shaking his head. “So, what, you think I should, what did Charlie say, ‘open the door’? Let her in?”

George shrugged. “I’m not saying you have to do anything. But I am saying that if you don’t at least consider it, you might regret it later. She’s a good friend, Bill. One of the best I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s not enough of a reason,” Bill muttered, though his voice had lost its edge.

“No,” George agreed, leaning in slightly. “But maybe the way she makes Victoire laugh is. Or the fact that she genuinely listens when someone talks, like she actually cares. Or how, even after a whole day at the party, she’s still out there playing dragons with Victoire like it’s the best part of her day.”

Bill followed George’s gaze back to the yard, where Y/N was now pretending to be a treasure-stealing knight, much to Victoire’s delight. The little girl was squealing with laughter, waving her stuffed dragon in the air as Y/N “surrendered” dramatically.

“She’s great with her,” Bill admitted quietly, his expression softening as he watched them.

“Yeah, she is,” George said, clapping him on the back. “And maybe, just maybe, she could be great with you too.”

Bill sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Part of my charm,” George said with a grin, grabbing the trash bag and hoisting it over his shoulder. “But seriously, mate. Don’t overthink it. Sometimes good things are just... good. You don’t have to question everything.”

As George headed toward the house, Bill stood there for a moment, his gaze lingering on Y/N. The awkward tension he’d felt all day was still there, but now, it was tinged with something else, something warmer, quieter, and far harder to ignore.

–

The kitchen was quiet now, the echoes of the party long faded. Bill sat alone at the table, staring at the dregs of his tea. The steam had stopped rising ages ago, the mug gone cold in his hands. The silence pressed in around him, but his mind was far from still.

Through the window, he could see Y/N in the garden. She was sitting cross-legged on the grass with Victoire, helping her arrange the little treasures she’d collected from her party: tiny dragon figurines, a shimmering plastic tiara, and the little treasure box Y/N had given her. Victoire’s giggles floated faintly through the open window, and every so often, Y/N’s soft laugh joined hers.

Bill closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. The familiar battle in his chest raged again, stronger this time. He’d been so careful to keep his distance, to stay guarded. Letting someone in, even someone like Y/N, felt like opening a door he’d worked so hard to keep shut.

She’s just a friend. She’s good with Victoire, that’s all.

The thought was sharp, a desperate attempt to keep the walls he’d built intact. But it felt hollow, even as he repeated it to himself. Because the truth was harder to ignore now. He wasn’t just watching Y/N because she was good with Victoire. He was watching her because he couldn’t seem to stop.

Her laugh, her kindness, the way she looked at Victoire like she was the most important person in the world, it had all woven itself into his mind, tugging at the edges of his carefully guarded heart. And that scared him more than he cared to admit.

What are you doing?

The question echoed in his head, heavy with doubt. 

What do you think is going to happen? That she’ll just, what? Fall into your life and fix everything?

He shook his head, huffing a quiet laugh at himself. 

Ridiculous.

And yet…

He glanced out the window again. Y/N was leaning forward now, her hands gesturing animatedly as she told Victoire a story. Whatever she was saying had his daughter in stitches, her high-pitched laughter ringing out like a bell. Y/N’s own laugh followed, softer but just as bright, and Bill felt the corners of his mouth tug upward despite himself.

She fits, a small voice whispered in the back of his mind. She fits here. With Victoire. With you.

He clenched his jaw, forcing the thought away. It’s too soon. Too complicated. What if it doesn’t work? What if I let her in and it all falls apart again?

But then another voice, quieter but stronger, crept in. 

What if it doesn’t?

Bill exhaled sharply, the weight of the question pressing against his chest. He had spent so long being cautious, so long holding everything together on his own, that the idea of letting someone else in felt almost impossible. But Y/N wasn’t just anyone. She was kind and patient, and she didn’t seem to shy away from the chaos that came with his life.

Victoire adores her. Mum adores her. Hell, even Charlie’s been dropping hints left and right.

But none of that mattered if he couldn’t take the first step. If he couldn’t get past the fear that kept him rooted to this chair, staring out the window like a coward.

He ran a hand over his face, frustration building. 

You’ve faced dragons. Curses. Death Eaters. And yet, here you are, too scared to walk outside and ask someone to dinner.

The thought stung, cutting through the haze of his doubt. Slowly, his hand dropped from his face, and he sat up straighter, his gaze locking onto Y/N through the window. She glanced up just then, her eyes meeting his, and she smiled, a simple, warm smile that made his chest tighten.

Maybe it’s worth it, he thought, the tiniest flicker of hope breaking through the fear. Maybe she’s worth it.

But as quickly as the thought came, the doubt followed. 

And if she’s not? If this ends like before? Can you handle that? Can Victoire?

His fists clenched against the table, the tension in his shoulders growing unbearable. He didn’t know if he could do it. If he could risk the fragile balance he’d built for himself and Victoire. If he could let himself hope for something more.

But as he sat there, torn between fear and possibility, one thought lingered above the rest, soft but insistent:

You’ll never know unless you try.

—

The house was quiet as Y/N and Bill reached the door, the soft creak of the floorboards beneath their feet the only sound breaking the stillness. Y/N turned to face him, adjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder. Her expression was warm, but Bill could feel the nerves simmering just beneath his skin.

“Thanks for inviting me today,” she said with a small smile. “Victoire had such a great time.”

“She’s been talking about it nonstop,” Bill replied, his hands buried deep in his pockets. He paused for a moment, his throat tightening as he glanced at her. “And I’m glad you came. It wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

The words felt heavier than he intended, but he pressed on, his pulse quickening. The moment stretched between them, and for once, the silence felt unbearable. 

Just ask her. It’s not that hard.

Clearing his throat, he tried to sound more casual than he felt. “Y/N, I was wondering… would you like to have dinner with me next Saturday? Just the two of us.”

The words were out, hanging in the air like a fragile thread. For a second, Y/N froze, her eyes widening in surprise. She blinked at him, clearly caught off guard, and her lips parted as if to respond, but no sound came out.

Bill’s chest tightened, the silence hitting him like a blow. 

Oh no. 

This was a mistake. 

You’ve just made it awkward. 

His mind spiraled, each second of hesitation fueling his doubt.

Of course, she doesn’t feel the same. Why would she? She’s kind, smart, and beautiful. What could she possibly see in someone like me, a single dad who barely has time to sleep, let alone offer her what she deserves?

As Y/N stammered slightly, searching for words, Bill felt his stomach drop further. 

She’s trying to find a nice way to let you down. Merlin, why did you think this was a good idea?

He stepped back slightly, forcing a small, tight smile as he glanced down at the floor. “It’s fine if you don’t want to,” he said quickly, the words rushing out in a weak attempt to save face. “I just thought I’d ask. No pressure.”

His heart was pounding now, his breath shallow as the embarrassment curled hot in his chest. He’d overstepped. He’d ruined the easy, friendly connection they’d shared, and now he’d have to watch her walk out the door, knowing he’d made things awkward.

“Bill, no,” Y/N said, her voice breaking through his spiraling thoughts. She shook her head quickly, stepping forward. “It’s not that at all. I was just surprised.”

Her words made him pause, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. The warmth in her expression was unmistakable, a faint pink tinge coloring her cheeks. “I’d love to have dinner with you, Bill,” she said softly, her smile returning. “Saturday sounds great.”

For a moment, he couldn’t quite process her words. “Really?” he asked, his voice hesitant, as though he didn’t quite believe it.

“Really,” Y/N said, her smile widening, her tone steady.

Relief hit him like a wave, the tension in his shoulders easing as her words settled over him. The earlier turmoil in his chest dissipated, replaced by a cautious but undeniable flicker of hope.

As Y/N adjusted her bag and reached for the door handle, she glanced back at him. “I’ll see you then,” she said gently.

“Yeah,” Bill replied, his voice softer now. “See you.”

She stepped outside, the door clicking softly behind her, leaving Bill standing there in the quiet hallway. The air felt lighter somehow, and yet his heart was still racing. He let out a shaky breath, his lips curving into a faint, disbelieving smile.

She said yes.

The doubt still lingered, a quiet voice whispering that he might not be enough, but for now, it was drowned out by the simple truth of her answer. And as he turned back toward the kitchen, a small, hopeful spark settled in his chest, glowing brighter with every step.

tagged: @navs-bhat @neenieweenie @buendiabebeta

a/n: OH MY GOD GUYS!!!!!!! from here on out its just fluff i fear. i know the orginal request asked for some angst and i will definatly try to add that in, but i'll make it more internally.

[dc418writes]

|Hiding in Plain Sight|

✨Pairing: CEO!Curtis Everettxblack!reader

🪄Summary: Curtis has had enough

🚨: 18+ NO MINORS!, soft!dark Curtis maybe???, cheating (do not condone in real life, however for this plot…👀), mention of past adult happy fun times (everyone please be safe!), fingering (female receiving), verbal abuse, language

🎤: this is my submission for Siri’s Birthday Bonenanza! Happy belated birthday @stargazingfangirl18 !! I hope you had an amazing bday with lots of cake, presents, love, and any and everything else you desire💐🎂!!

Prompts:

Scenario: Babe is doing this for your own good

Dialogue: “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?”

Kink Prompt: possessive!babe, squirting

Trope Prompt: scary,dangerous babe who is only soft with you (Curtis isn’t really dangerous tho, but you’ll see)

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP OF PICTURES USED as they were found via Pinterest*

At the sudden ‘click’ of the door closing, you’re startled; quickly turning towards the sound to find one of the reasons you felt the need for space from the festivities downstairs. Dressed in all black - from the button up spanning his firm chest to his impeccable slacks and polished designer shoes - it’s as if he walked straight out of GQ how dashing and handsome he looked.

Then again, when did he not?

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” His deep voice never fails to send tingles shooting down your spine. Have you embarrassingly willing to move at his command if he gave it.

“It’s okay. I-I should probably get back anyway.”

“To get ignored by your husband some more?,” he asks just as you pass him. His words make you pause with your shoulders just mere inches apart.

“Curtis..”

“He’s so busy smiling in everybody’s face and trying to be buddy-buddy with my associates, he hasn’t even noticed his own wife is gone. Then again…maybe he doesn’t want to.”

You didn’t want to come tonight. Tired from work and not in the mood to fake laugh at middle aged men who thought they were funny, you practically begged your husband to leave you home.

“You’re so fucking selfish you know that? This is my chance to make necessary connections to very important people.”

“Then you go Wes! Me being there won’t change that.”

He only kissed his teeth, tossing one of your purses at you and not caring of the scattered contents he left. “Be ready by 6 or I’ll get you ready myself.”

It was foolish to hope things would be different this time. You should know Wes would never arrive at anything having to do with business without his self proclaimed ‘good luck charm’. His trophy wife he used to sell this illusion that he was the man that had it all, so rejecting him would only hurt you.

And that’s not to say your husband didn’t deserve success - he was brilliant in his own right. It’s why Curtis himself decided to invest in Wes’ company and was his highest investor to date. But he saw past the illusion, and quickly saw the man he really was.

Which is how your complicated pairing began.

As he steps closer you hate how your body responds: eagerly ready to cave at the closest feeling of home. The bourbon - his favorite - practically being tasted in your own mouth as the smell wafts from his pink lips so close to yours. It mixes well with the spice from his cologne only making your head begin to swim and want to suffocate yourself in his neck.

His thick finger reaches out to trace the delicate gold chain on the necklace perfectly sat just below your collarbones. The small diamonds not equally spaced apart, but set in such a way it reminded you of twinkling stars in the night sky. It’s simple, but fitting for you. You were never the type for lavish jewelry that could blind someone a mile away, and from your short time together Curtis knew that.

“Knew it’d look beautiful on you,” he whispers letting the pad of his finger carry further until he was skimming your collarbone and causing you to shudder.

“I’m still married,” you practically have to force from your soul trying to stop your body from pressing against his. Stop your brain from turning to mush so he could have his way with you. Again.

His jaw ticks. “Why, I don’t know.”

“Curtis please, okay? Besides, you’re supposed to be celebrating.” He gently nods letting the rest of the brown liquor drain down his throat - your eyes shamefully following the bob of his Adams apple and missing how it felt under your lips.

“Fine,” he breathes closing the remaining space so you have no choice but to clutch his shoulders to stop from losing your footing in your heels. Not that he’d let you fall from his muscular arm around your waist. His mouth lowering impossibly closer that depending on what either of you said, your lips would brush. “Celebrate with me.”

“I-I don’t think your date would like that.” Were you angry when you saw the onyx haired beauty on his arm? Far from it. Did you guiltily wish her butt length, model-esque hair would catch fire when she passed one of the candles on the various tables so she’d have to leave? Maybe.

“Here I was thinking I was the jealous one.” And there was that smirk that briefly showed the hidden mischief in this man carved by God himself. “Yes, she’s my plus one, but would be more interested in you than me. Not that I blame her.”

“I still can’t,” you whisper letting your nose tap against his. Slowly but surely you feel yourself becoming drunk off his presence and that will to stand strong diminishing.

“Can’t or shouldn’t?”

At that you’re stuck. Now solely focused on his lips and so badly wanting - needing - to taste them again. Curtis grins realizing this himself. “My eyes are up here sweetheart.”

“Wha?” You should feel embarrassed, but as the air from his nostrils fan your face it only seems to make you needier. And when he brings his hand up to caress your cheek, there’s nothing that can stop you from leaning into his touch. Even between your legs you feel that pulse begin to grow in urgency.

“Look me in the eyes,” Curtis begins slowly, “and tell me you don’t want me. That you’re done. You’ll never hear from me again.”

You try, genuinely try to maintain eye contact but his stormy blues dilated with lust and longing only overwhelms you. Overwhelms you in that you should be good and say you don’t, leave, and act as if none of this has happened but you don’t want to. Curtis has easily become a part of you that you can’t let go and truthfully refuse to do so.

In a blink, your lips are frantically crushing against each others. His tongue smoothly, yet still eager, to reclaim your mouth after being away for so long. Your mind quickly enters that haze you only seemed to experience with him, unable to realize your body is being guided somewhere until you’re perched on the edge of a wooden desk. Your hands gripping the back of his neck while his push your pastel blue mini dress up past your hips leaving your lower half exposed to the cool air of the room.

Finally needing to breathe, his lips descend to your jaw then your neck causing you to whine his name wanting more of his mouth on yours. A quiet “shh” is the only warning you get before his hands are spreading your thighs to find a steady growing wet spot on your panties. His fingertips immediately reach to tease along your waiting slit watching as you squirm and moan.

“My needy girl. Probably been forever since he’s touched you like this huh? Made you feel good..”

The back of your head softly thuds against the wall as you lean back on your elbows. Letting yourself get lost in his touches and how his thumb circles your little button through your thoroughly soaked underwear.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this? Know how much I’ve missed you and those little noises you make when you take anything I give you,” he huskily states nipping your earlobe. “My fingers. My tongue. Fuck, and when you take my cock..?”

“Curtis,” you gasp nearly ready to guide his fingers inside you yourself to get that relief you now crave. As always, he knows what you need bringing your delicates swiftly down your legs to circle his middle finger around your dripping hole before plunging deep. The extended moan from your lips directly hitting his cock and making his pants feel tighter.

His ring finger soon joins as they steadily pump in and out. Not having been intimate with your own husband for a while now, you feel pathetic already being so close. Curtis can feel it too, as you clutch and squeeze.

“Should be ashamed of himself not taking care of you like you need. You deserve to be filled all day, every day. Filled to the point you can barely walk without feeling me drip down your legs. That what you want? To be filled with me?”

Your hips buck and grind on their own nearly riding his hand as your skin heats and sweat pricks your forehead. “Y-Yes! Yes Curtis please!,” you moan. His words hitting some deep seated, feral part you didn’t recognize but welcomed while palming your breast.

His mouth catches your scream when he adds a third finger. The room filling with your little “ah ah’s”, squelches, and the knock of the desk against the wall how you bucked to keep up with his fingers.

“Shit, might not ever leave the house. Just keep you by my side always wet and ready. Take you in every room and have you screaming for me.” He palms at the front of his slacks picturing your nude body bent over the counter. Or spread on the table for him and him only. “Or let you ride me and take what you want. Like that night after dinner.”

The way your toes curl and back arches he knows you’re seconds away now. Just needing that extra push to have you a twitching, trembling mess.

“Curtis I-I…please Curtis…Curtis!” Twisting his wrist just slightly to the right, he easily finds your spot as he firmly rubs his palm against you swollen nub making you gush down his hand and onto the hardwood below - a splash or two even finds the top of his shoe. It’s almost like a steady stream as it keeps flowing with every push of his fingers and Curtis can’t help but curse before finding your mouth again.

When you whimper and try to back away he knows it’s too much, slowly halting his movements before removing his hand. Automatically, you’re reaching out for him - needing some grounding force after what felt like your body floating to space - and he gladly lets you wrap your arms around his middle. Your face diving to his chest trying to hide your overwhelmed tears while he rubs your back with his clean hand.

“Did so good for me sweetheart. You feel alright?” You nod, turning your head just enough to catch him suck your release from his fingers; moaning from the taste. “Still so sweet,” he mumbles to himself and you swear you feel a small trickle of release escape your hole from that alone.

Your little bubble of ecstasy is quickly popped when the door opens reminding you of the party downstairs. Curtis shields you the best he can, but your dangling legs can easily be seen.

This makes it easy for Wes to recognize you. His face turning from amused shock at finding the always stone faced Curtis Everett with a woman to anger now realizing you were the moans and screams the men whispered about downstairs.

“The fuck are you doing up here?!,” he shouts making you scramble to get off the desk. Curtis still shields you with his back as you right your dress. Not only for your modesty, but to silently warn Wes he wouldn’t dare stand down.

“W-Wes I can explain-,”

“This was your plan the whole time huh? Use me to get to someone better..”

“No, I..I just-,”

“Just what? Accidentally ended up here with him?! Accidentally let him do whatever?” Now you were gathering a bit of a crowd, only increasing your anxiety.

“Wes please..”

“Please what?! Move on from you being a whore who opens her legs to any man she can get ahead with?!”

“Hey! Watch it,” Curtis warns stepping closer to a slightly drunk Wes.

“And after everything I did for you? Gave to you?!”

“You act like I asked for those things.”

He simply shakes his head before focusing on Curtis. “You know what, good luck with that one. Just a lazy sack that only wants to lie on her back. Can barely do that either always complaining-,”

Curtis didn’t let him finish quickly gripping Wes by the back of his neck making him kneel before you and everyone peeking through the open door. He tried to wiggle free and thrash, but Curtis just tightens his grip controlling Wes as if he was an animal handler trained to do this. Like he’d done it plenty of times before.

“You say you’re the one who gave her everything? Way I see it, you wouldn’t have had everything to give without her. Without your lovely wife, I would’ve already cancelled our partnership leaving you high and dry probably on fry duty at some fast food place. So I suggest you humble yourself pretty fucking quick.”

He seemed to get the message, remaining mostly still besides his back rising and falling from his unsteady breathing. “Matter of fact, I say you thank her.”

Wes is quiet, until Curtis jabs him in the ribs causing him to howl in pain.

“She’s waiting!”

“Th-Thank you! Thank you!,” he shouts sighing in relief when Curtis lets him go.

“Cmon,” he mumbles grabbing your hand to lead you past your husband. Past the vast crowd of people who dared not get in his way.

“W-Where are we going?,” you ask trying to keep up with his longer strides.

“Home.”

“But..but I-,”

Swiftly, he turns catching you against his chest with fingers gently gripping your chin so you’d be sure to hear him. “Home can be my place or yours and he gets put on the street, you choose. Either way from this point on, I’m not letting you stay away from me.” How could you argue with that? Especially now when he was using that commanding tone paired with that intense gaze making your core spasm. “Which one?”

“…Yours.”

He simply kisses your forehead leading you outside to retrieve his car from valet.

As for Wes, he was in for a rude awakening Monday morning when he’d be served an eviction notice saying his office space now belonged to Everett Co., minutes before he was served divorce papers already signed by you and your wedding ring.

-

Not gonna lie, I’m a little iffy about the ending but still I hope everyone enjoys! Also check out the other stories from this challenge as well💕!

[urban-shade]

my random miscellaneous sebastian headcanons. readmore because its a LOT

current

i was thinking about if he'd use special sebastian shaped emoticons like .:} and }:. and im honestly 50/50 i can see him thinking they're funny but i can also see him not wanting to think about the fact that he's a fish now and no longer human

in general i think he has a lot of identity issues. He literally NEVER brings up the fact that he is fish-esque besides telling us that he's not going to hurt us, and telling us items are on his tail. I think if he was more comfortable with his identity he might occasionally crack a joke but I think deep down he has a mask up emotionally where he tries to forget about it all.

and that mask CRACKS a little when players repeatedly climb on him!! it brings back hard memories for him and that's the most upset we ever hear him.. he doesn't even get that upset when he kills you for flash beaconing him twice.. you can fucking hear the hurt in gianni's voice acting and its just SO . AGH.

past / pre-breakout

i like thinking about what they had him get up to as an LR-P and MR-P a lot. What if they had him assemble furniture to get him used to his new 3rd arm. He thinks he's getting new furniture for his cell but then they take it away and put it in the break room and he gets SO ANNOYED. Then the 2nd furniture they have him do he assembles it and then throws it at the observation room at the top of his cell.

He'd get a game console for like one day to ensure his mental capabilities are the same as before the experimentation and for like 2 years after that day he misses his video games until he gets to play games again when he's promoted to MR-P

I feel like near the very start of things just to get a whole overview of like everything that's changed about him even if gills is only what they really gaf about (million dollar fish might as well see what your money did) they'd be testing a lot of basic stuff. Like taste. And they'd give him some normal food of different types of tastes to see if he's lost any taste receptors and he'd be like so happy but then intentionally one of the foods is really bad. And he gets so mad

i headcanon he did dual enrollment (college+hs) since he switched his college major from business to engineering and he's only 19. And that he was a massive nerd... unfortunately his fishtuation has changed him :(

there is a massive urbanshade in-network group chat/email chain for the scientists. There are a lot of inside jokes and a lot are at sebastians expense

i feel like he got food requests on his birthdays. The highlight of his years

His first request for birthday food was like a recipe his mom made a lot and he got it and it was horrible and barely seasoned because urbanshade is the worst and also they are in Norway and he is NOT going to get properly cooked authentic chilean food. And he never requested chilean food again :( Didn't want to be disappointed

post game

i don't think he truly realizes how big he is and if he ever gets a real human frame of reference he's going to get extremely upset about it (if he was already on edge from something else.. he's practiced at hiding/burying his emotions). The blacksite doesn't have a ton of normal size comparison things for him besides smaller human objects and humans themselves, everything is sorta larger than life there and he might feel quite big but I don't think he has a proper idea of the real scale.

Even if he escapes, even if he could deal with all the problems that come from being a snake/mermaid/fishmonster guy. He is still way too big to fit in any normal human spaces. He is truly screwed unless he can get turned back human by innovation inc...

even if he does get turned back human by innovation inc he's going to have to relive his trauma all over again. i think about that a lot

i think he'd also be conflicted on turning back human like it's the one thing he's wanted for the past 10 years but also.. He's been like this for so long.. he doesn't really feel like Sebastian the kid with a guitar that liked Metallica. He's Sebastian Solace the Saboteur… The dangerous fish man who's been forced to kill a few people out of necessity (and indirectly cause the deaths of a few hundred others)

i think he'd get phantom limb pains from his 3rd arm if he lost it in the human transformation. Like he isn't even supposed to HAVE that arm as a person and yet his brain still expects it to be there. He keeps trying to use it and then it's gone

When he first meets his family again for the first time after he escapes I think he wouldn't be human yet. Before he lets them see him he like speaks to them from behind a door or something… To try and prepare them. He's really nervous about seeing them all again because he absolutely cares about them just the same but he just feels like an outsider now.. he's changed so much

All he wants is to get back to a normal life but, normal human life doesn't feel normal to him anymore. He almost misses the monotony of the blacksite. I feel like innovation inc would take a few months-year to get him turned back and he might try working for them in that time to try and adjust to being out of urbanshade since it feels familiar to him and they're more equipped to deal with a giant fish man than his family's home. But ever so often things there remind him of urbanshade and he goes back to feeling like he's about to be shot on sight.

biology

silver spiny fins are some of the best vertebrates at seeing color in low light conditions! i think he has that trait from them

mantis shrimp like to burrow. I think he has some kind of instinct where he feels more at home in small enclosed spaces (he loves blankets)

what if his upper body had sandpaper shark scales. i dont want to put him through that because can you imagine putting on a cotton shirt with sandpaper skin???? too cruel. but its fun to think about

i think he molts but its only like once a year. The first time he does it he has like absolutely no idea that's what's happening he's just like insanely itchy or something and then he realizes his tail skin has PEELED OFF and he's like (HORRIFIED) but then realizes what's going on . And then it takes forever for him to get it all off and he just stares at it like Eugh after

the second time he realizes he can use the shed to screw with the researchers. Researcher walks in his heavy containment cell in the morning and there's just like a massive translucent crumpled version of him in the corner and they just scream before realizing 2 seconds later

the scientists have a sped up video of him molting to metallica music like how people post timelapses of their snakes shedding

[fantisyoflove]

more neville works please!! love the way you portray him <3

*fans face dramatically* phew don't freak out don't freak out.

Thank you so much and yes of course!

By the Lake

Neville had taken off his shoes and socks by the tree roots. He had taken to hiding them under the roots because some people thought it was funny to take his things and hide them or chuck them into the black lake. He could not handle another howler from his gran if he had to write home asking for another pair of shoes! He rolled his pant legs up past his knees and wadded into the waters edge.

It was cold, especially in the shade of the trees, but he didn't mind even if his wand wouldn't cast a proper warming charm for him. One day he was going to save enough money to get his own wand. Having his dad's was nice but it didn't answer to him worth a lick of salt.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed while he was searching along the shore line for elderberries as well as taking note of the other local flora and fauna.

You carried a small bag and two of the texts Professor Sprout had suggested to you down to the lake to join Neville. He didn't even look up as you set your things down and began taking off your own shoes and stocking. Finally as the water rippled around him he glanced up to see you. A confused look was quickly replaced with pure joy.

"Y/N! You came!"

"Well of course I did! Did you think I wouldn't?"

Neville got a funny look on his face, "well no I just... you know.. I wasn't.. not that you don't" he was sputtering as you wadded as gracefully as you could to his side. You reach out and touch his hand giving it a squeeze.

"I like spending time with you Neville and I really like plants too! I will always be up for going with you." You give him a soft smile and he returns it sheepishly. The pink tint to his cheeks stands out even in the shadows.

"I brought tea and that book Sprout was talking about. I figured we could picnic and look at it after this."

Neville nodded tucking his wand behind his ear. "That sounds lovely. I already found some of the plants Sprout was talking about during class yesterday. I wanted to see which ones could be transplanted and still survive."

"Brillant! Do you have some jars?"

"Under the tree roots"

"Perfect, let's get started." You shivered again against the cold water and cast a warming charm over yourself and Neville. His head jerked up at the sudden warmth but you had already turned away and didn't get to see the flush of his cheeks spread to his ears and the adorable grin he had for the rest of the morning.

{}

The sun was high in the sky when you both decided to call it quits. You had helped Neville fill 6 jars with different plants and shrink them down for him to bring back to the castle.

You had been practicing your extending charms and managed to fit a whole blanket into your small bag along with tea for both of you.

You handed over the copy of the book you brought for Neville.

"The library had two copies?" He asked as he starts to skim through the pages.

"Oh umm.. no not exactly. I couldn't find it at the library so I went into town and got them."

Neville baulked at that. "Y/N you didn't need to buy me the book. I could have just waited for it to be returned to the library or just ...."

"Nope. Think of it as a late birthday gift. I won't accept anything else."

Neville hung his head suddenly overwhelmed. The book felt like it weighed a thousand pounds and he could barely hold onto it. His mind was racing. You bought him a book. You bought him the same book you bought yourself. You bought two books so you both would have one.

"Neville?" You reach out and touch his cheek drawing his face up to look at you.

"Thank you." He says so softly. You scoot closer so you are leaning into his side and open your book in your lap.

He stiffens at first, nobody has ever been this close to him before, but his body starts to relax into the touch. He tentatively leans back against you and opens his own book to read. The warmth from your body heats something deep in his chest and his body realises how truly touch starved he is.

He could definitely get use to this.

[sixhours]

happy birthday, baby girl - camping

Ellie has never had a birthday. Joel can fix that.

Series masterlist | Read on AO3 | In progress

Rating: Teen Chapter tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel and Ellie, Ellie Williams, Joel Miller, birthdays, swearing, canon-compliant, angst, implied past alcohol abuse/alcoholism Words: 7.1k

Notes: A bunch of birthday one-shots loosely based on this headcanon. This might be a five-times/one-time fic in disguise, it hasn't decided yet.

They walk out of Jackson at dawn. For four months, they’ve lived behind the protection of a steady rotation of guards and patrols and reinforced walls. Safe and sound, but Jackson is only so big, and Ellie can’t help but feel a little claustrophobic. Even if she doesn’t have to share her room with another FEDRA brat, even if there are no bodies hanging in the public square, even if Jackson smells like fresh-cut grass and woodsmoke and pine trees instead of piss.

No, Jackson is not Boston, not by a long shot. But it’s not the walls that have her feeling smothered. She’s not used to having so many people see her. Joel and Tommy and Maria and teachers and friends and neighbors; so many people who care where she is and what she’s doing and who she’s doing it with. There are rules to follow, schedules to keep, a community that expects her to contribute.

It’s fucking suffocating if she thinks about it too hard.

Today, not twenty feet outside the walls with Joel at her side, she takes what feels like her first deep breath in weeks.

“You okay, kid?”

“Yeah…fine. Just…it’s different than I remember.”

He blinks into the sun-drenched landscape, autumn just starting to tease the tops of the trees into a golden glow. It’s all familiar ground to him. He leaves the compound regularly for patrols and tells her about what they find at the end of his shifts–not a whole hell of a lot, usually.

But today it’s just the two of them, on foot, with a few supplies and a surprise destination of Joel’s in mind. She’s tried to harass it out of him without any luck.

“Is it…a lake?”

“Nope.”

“A racetrack?”

“Nope.”

“Is it a spaceship?”

This elicits a wry glance over his shoulder, at least. “Nope.”

“Umm…is it the ocean?”

“Kid, when was the last time you looked at a map?”

“When was the last time the maps were updated? For all you know, there could be a whole sea on the other side of those mountains now.”

“It ain’t the ocean, and I’m not tellin’, so you may as well stop askin’,” he says, but she knows he doesn’t really mind her questions.

His backpack and guitar are slung on his back, leaving her to carry the rifle. He has a small cooler in one hand and a walking stick in the other, something Tommy found and carved and sanded smooth. He’d promised to make Ellie one of her own this winter when construction work slowed down.

“How long does it take to get there?”

“Five hours, give or take.”

“And you’ve been through here before?” she asks, hoping her voice doesn’t betray her nerves. They’re walking through thick forest on a rough path, pock-marked with hoofprints from recent patrols.

“Yep. Meant to take you out here this summer but your cousin had other ideas,” he mutters. “Think you’ll like it.”

She shrugs.

“Figured it’s been a lot, these last few months,” he continues. “What with school…the new baby. New…everythin’, really. Thought we could use some time to, uh…I dunno. Talk. Just you an’ me. Like old times.”

Old times .

It’s a funny phrase under the circumstances, but it fits. It’s only been a year since Riley died, since Marlene found her in the mall, since she met Joel. Ellie felt like she’d lived a million lives in that time, like she’d stepped through a portal like Daniela Starr and wound up in an alternate reality. Even in her wildest dreams, she never could have predicted this. Never thought she’d survive a bite, that she’d live to see a life outside the walls of the QZ, that she’d travel across the country with a strange old man and ultimately find herself with a family, small and broken as it is.

She absently rubs at the scar under her sleeve. She’s fallen behind, feet dragging a little as she contemplates all the things that happened to bring her to this point. The mall, Kansas City, the hospital…

I swear.

She doesn’t like to think about the hospital.

Suddenly Joel’s hand is on her arm and she jerks away, realizes he’s been talking and she’s missed it, lost in her thoughts.

“Sorry,” she says.

“It’s nothin’,” he says. “I was just sayin’, I thought a little trip couldn’t hurt, get some fresh air before the snow flies…call it a birthday present.”

“You’re a little late, dude,” she says, picking up her pace to match his longer strides. “Or really fucking early.”

“Yeah, well,” he says, frowning. “Didn’t have a proper birthday this year. I figured you’re owed a few extra.”

“Does that mean I’m sixteen now? ‘Cause I can start patrol training at sixteen. Tommy said so.”

“Nice try, kid.”

She hefts her pack higher on her back, the hiking boots Joel found for her at the trading post rubbing against the backs of her heels. She’s not used to them yet, but she has to admit, they’re a hell of a lot better than her Converse for this kind of walking.

It’s an easy hike, a steady uphill climb on a narrow but well-maintained path. It’s clear it’s going to take longer than five hours when Ellie keeps finding things to look at; a cool black rock laced with glittery gold flecks to add to her collection, an iridescent beetle, a tiny dead bird carcass crawling with worms. Joel indulges her investigations the way he always does, grumbling good-naturedly, but he doesn’t rush her. They cross a shallow stream, Ellie hop-skipping over the rocks while Joel takes the wood patrol bridge, eyes on her the whole time.

The back of her left heel starts to throb about two hours in, but it’s easy enough to ignore.

It’s mid-afternoon, the sun already beginning to fall from its peak in the sky by the time they make it to their secret destination. They crest a hill and off in the distance, a wood structure sticks out over the trees.

“Is that…a treehouse?”

“Kinda,” Joel grunts, sweat shining on his forehead. It was cool when they left, but they’ve both shed their outer jackets in favor of tee shirts as the day went on. She doesn’t have to worry about hiding her scar out here. Eager to explore, Ellie runs ahead up the path and soon she’s standing at the edge of a clearing with a tower in the middle.

“Used to be a ranger’s station but they converted it to an outpost a few years back, I guess,” Joel says at her back.

“So cool,” she breathes, looking up at the tower, what looks like a cabin on stilts. Seeing it up close reminds her of the treehouse in the Swiss Family Robinson movie they played at the rec center a couple weeks ago. At the base is a fire pit and a lean-to, probably for tying up the patrol horses. Joel sets his guitar just inside the lean-to and puts his hands on his hips, squinting up at the structure.

“Can we go up?” she asks.

“Sure hope so,” he says. Joel goes to one of the thickets of shrubs on the far side of the camp and starts poking around. “Or we’re sleepin’ on the ground.”

“We get to sleep up there?”

“Yep,” he says, hauling a metal ladder out of the brush.

“Sweet!”

“Pull on that end,” he instructs, and she does, grabbing hold of the opposite rung and tugging until the ladder is fully extended. Joel lays it up against the side of the lookout so the top rung hooks onto a second ladder that’s attached to the structure higher up. He frowns and shakes the thing until it’s firmly seated, takes a few cautious steps up, testing its stability.

“Safe enough,” he pronounces, coming back to the ground. “You wanna go–”

He hasn’t finished his sentence before she’s leapt onto the ladder, climbing it like a monkey.

“–first? Jesus, kid, be careful…”

But Ellie is already clambering up, hand over hand until she reaches the top ledge. She pulls herself up to standing, walking along the side of the central cabin and down the wrap-around balcony.

“Whoa,” she breathes, leaning out over the railing. From up here she can see the whole valley and beyond. They’re too far to be able to see Jackson, she guesses, peering into the distance. It’s conveniently shrouded in trees.

Joel joins her, panting slightly. “Christ, few months of real cookin’ and I’m outta shape.”

“Sure you’re not just old?” she grins. “We could find you an oxygen tank and a wheelchair. Maybe one of those little electric scooters.”

“Brat,” he huffs, leaning on the railing, gently tugging her back by the handle of her backpack when she leans over too far. “Can still haul your scrawny ass around.”

“This is so fucking cool,” she breathes, turning around. The ranger’s station has huge plexiglass windows, and she cups her hands to one of the panes and peeks inside.

“C’mon,” Joel says, walking back around the building. He fishes a key out from behind a loose shingle near the door. “Let’s go set up.”

The lookout has obviously been maintained. Freshly stained boards stand out against the aging weathered ones like sore thumbs. The floor underfoot is solid, if creaky in places, and there’s a slight draft coming in around the windows. There are chests full of supplies and gear–enough rations to last a small patrol group for a couple of weeks, Joel says. Ellie wrinkles her nose at the familiar stock of canned goods and MREs.

If there’s one thing she has no complaints about in Jackson, it’s the food. Ellie didn’t know green beans could taste like summer, or that a fresh peach could drip sticky juice down her chin without being soaked in cloying syrup, or that soup could be more than a salty broth with shapeless chunks of mush. Until a couple months ago, she’d never had fresh whipped cream or apple pie or so many of the things they serve regularly at the caf. FEDRA rations couldn’t come close, and she can’t imagine going back to that.

She’s relieved to know they won’t be eating from the stockpile of MREs tonight. There’s not a single can in Joel’s backpack. Instead, he’s carrying pre-sliced potatoes and onions and cheese wrapped in foil, packets of roasted vegetables ready to be warmed over the fire, and several apples and granola mix for snacks. Joel said something about catching the rest of their dinner, but she wasn’t fully listening, knowing he wouldn’t make her eat the venison or rabbit or moose if they went hunting.

They lay down their bedrolls on top of foam mats on the wood floor, not dusty and ravaged by time but swept clean and tidy. Ellie flops down on her bed to test it out, staring up into the rafters. There are no cobwebs or birds’ nests. Instead, the exposed beams are decorated with odds and ends, trinkets left behind by other patrollers, random treasures found during scavenging runs. A broken lantern. A rusty horseshoe. Old farm tools. A doll that’s missing one eye and probably haunted, Ellie decides. She’s half tempted to steal it and bring it back with them to Jackson if she can figure out how to get it past Joel.

When they’re mostly settled in their makeshift camp, Joel asks, “Ready to go check out the water?”

“Water?”

“There’s a stream not far from here. You ever been fishin’?” Joel plucks two long poles off the back wall.

She rolls her eyes. “Dude, the Charles was a fucking sewer. No, I’ve never been fishing.”

That earns her a smirk. “Twilight’s the best time for brook trout. Let’s go catch dinner.”

Ellie gets up from her bedroll and makes the mistake of hissing in pain, unable to hide a slight limp from the chafing against her heel. She’s mostly ignored it until now but a few minutes of rest has brought the pain into sharp relief. Joel is immediately hovering at her side.

“What’s wrong? You twist it?”

“No, it’s just…these stupid boots,” she mutters. “Think I got a blister.”

“Let’s see.”

“It’s fine, man, I’m—“

“Sit,” he says in his you do what I say when I say it voice.

“I’m not a dog, asshole,” she grunts, but she does as she’s told, plopping back down on her sleeping bag.

“Foot,” he instructs, kneeling and putting out a hand. She undoes her laces and takes off her boot, peeling off her sock with a wince. The blister has already popped, oozing bloody fluid through the back of her sock. The top layer of skin has peeled away leaving a gnarly red patch of raw flesh in its place.

“Christ, Ellie,” he grumbles upon seeing the damage.

“It’s not that bad,” she says, even as she hisses. Exposed to the open air, the fresh wound smarts like a sonofabitch, as Joel would say.

“Like hell it ain’t,” he frowns, then goes over to the trunk of supplies. He has a first aid kit, but it’s little more than band-aids and salve. The outpost’s kit has gauze and tape and a flask of alcohol for disinfectant. “You been walkin’ on this the whole time?”

“Just the last hour or so,” she lies. “Wasn’t gonna be a whiny little bitch about it.”

He fixes her with a look that brings hot red patches to her cheeks. “Don’t say that. If you’re hurt, we take care of it.”

“Didn’t wanna slow us down–”

“Not on a schedule,” he mutters. “Leave somethin’ like this too long, it's liable to get infected. This is gonna sting.”

He wipes at the wound with a piece of gauze soaked in the alcohol, wincing along with her when the sensation of the cleaner on her raw flesh brings tears to her eyes.

“What’s the verdict, doc?” she rasps when she can speak without gritting her teeth around the pain.

“Don’t think we’ll have to amputate,” he says drily, then glares at her. “Yet.”

She rests her chin on her other knee and waits while he dabs salve on the wound, covering it with gauze and taping it in place. He pulls a clean pair of socks out of her pack and slides one carefully over the bandage, giving her toes an errant squeeze when it’s all done.

“Still gonna hurt, but at least you won’t be rubbin’ it raw. How’s the other one?”

“It’s fine.”

He scowls. “Swear to god, kid, if you’re hidin’ another blister–”

“Ugh, it’s not as bad. See for yourself,” she says, taking off her other boot and sock, sticking her foot directly in his face and wiggling it in front of his nose for emphasis. He swats at it and grumbles brat under his breath, before taking it gently in hand.

Two smaller blisters, still fresh, decorate the back of her other heel. He gives them the same treatment, padding the wounds with gauze so they won’t get worse.

“Was that so damn hard?” he asks when he’s done. “It ain’t a crime to ask for help, y’know.”

She shrugs. “Didn’t want you to worry–”

“S’my job to worry about you,” he cuts her off, then softens, gripping her chin gently between forefinger and thumb. “One I’m pretty damn lucky to have.”

Sometimes, even now, it’s a surprise that he cares. Her throat goes tight and she nods once.

“Now c’mon,” he says, groaning and stretching as he stands. “Fish ain’t gonna catch themselves.”

She puts on her boots and considers leaving them untied, eager as she is to see the water and the fish, but she can already hear Joel’s voice– gonna go ass over teakettle if y’ain’t careful –so she thinks better of it and re-ties the laces before bounding out the door behind him.

“Careful on the ladder,” he reminds her from halfway down, and she refrains from rolling her eyes, but she does take it slow, telling herself his old-man heart is fragile and she doesn’t want to be the cause of a heart attack.

They take a right from the tower and hike deeper into the forest toward the sound of running water. The stream sparkles in the last of the evening sun as they settle on the embankment with their fishing rods. Joel shows her how to dig into the soft parts of the soil for worms to use as bait (gross, but cool), how to wind them around the hook and stab them to secure them (just gross), and how to cast the line so it doesn’t get tangled in the brush on the side of the bank (nearly impossible).

After a few minutes, Ellie shifts from one foot to the other. “Now what?”

“We wait. If you feel a bite on the line, start to reel it in.”

They do. She holds the pole and she waits. And waits. And–

She slaps at a mosquito on her neck, then another one on her arm. Her nose itches and her hair tickles her ears. She recasts the line when it bobs and drifts too far, reeling it back in, watching as Joel does the same.

“So how long does this usually take?” she says when she’s cast for the fifth time and felt absolutely nothing. She watches the bobber drift along with the current. The sun has dropped behind the trees, taking most of the heat out of the air.

“Long as it takes.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Gonna take even longer if you keep yappin’ and scarin’ the fish away.”

She rolls her eyes, mimicking him. “‘ Yappin’ n’ scarin’ the fish away.’ ”

He side-eyes her, but his cheek twitches the way it does when he’s trying not to laugh at one of her puns.

“Did you used to fish a lot?”

“When I was a kid, mostly. Old man took us out once in a while.”

“So…early Jurassic period?”

“Yep,” he says easily. “Rode my dinosaur to the lake n’ back.”

“Har har,” she says, swatting at a mosquito that’s buzzing around her left ear. “I just thought there’d be, more, y’know…fish.”

“I liked it about as much as you do, at the time. Never caught much,” he grimaces, reeling in his line and casting it again. “Think the old man just liked gettin’ away from our mama so he could get shitfaced in peace.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Wholesome.”

“Not the word I’d use. Anyway, spent more time pushin’ Tommy in the lake than I did catchin’ fish.”

Now that sounds like fun. “Can I push you in if we don’t catch anything?”

“You can try,” he smirks.

More time passes. Ellie shifts on her feet and swats at more mosquitos, trying and failing to imagine Joel as a kid.

“Man…I wanna ride a dinosaur,” she sighs.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel mutters, but he’s smiling.

Then there’s a distinct tug on her line, so forceful and surprising she almost lets the whole contraption go.

“Joel!”

“What?”

“It’s…it’s going! What the fuck do I do?”

“Well don’t panic,” he says, setting his pole down carefully, wedging it between two large rocks. “Hold on, kid, I gotcha.”

“It’s probably a fucking boot or something,” Ellie says, holding the pole back with both hands to keep it steady, unable to reel in whatever is on the other end for fear of losing her grip.

“Dunno about that. It’s movin’. Here,” he says, offering a hand over hers to support the pole while she switches to turning the reel, the tension growing with each turn.

“Good job, not too fast or the line’ll snap,” Joel says. “Sometimes ya just gotta let ‘em run with it a little, wear ‘em out.”

Soon she can see the silvery green-red fish thrashing at the surface of the water.

“Holy shit!”

“Lookit that,” he grins, helping her lift the fish out of the water by the line as it writhes and flails. “Guess you get to eat tonight.”

She can’t help but be a little disappointed when she gets a good look at the result of her efforts. She’d been picturing a monster fish given how strong it had been, but the thing isn’t even a foot long.

“I thought it was gonna be a fuckin’ shark.”

“Sometimes the little ones fight the hardest,” he says softly, and she’s glad the fading light hides her blush. She’s pretty sure he’s not just talking about the stupid fish.

He puts the poor creature out of its misery by smashing its head with a rock, then promises to show her how to gut and filet the slimy, scaly thing once they’re back at camp. She silently vows to try a bite even if the thought turns her stomach.

“You gonna try again?” he asks.

She does, digging up a fresh worm and re-baiting her hook while Joel goes back to his line. By the end of the hour, they’ve caught two more trout and Ellie’s stomach is growling.

“Better than fishing with your old man?” she asks on the trek back to camp.

He huffs a soft laugh. ”Yeah, kiddo. Much better.”

Back at the lookout, there’s a pile of pre-cut firewood under a tarp in the lean-to. Ellie gathers small sticks and scraps for kindling from the surrounding woods and soon Joel has a fire roaring. The routine is familiar; night settling around them while they prepare dinner. Ellie takes pity on Joel’s knees and volunteers to climb back up the tower to fetch the cooler and cooking supplies.

By firelight, Joel shows Ellie how to strip the trout of their scales, gut them, and filet them without leaving tiny bones in the flesh. Then they throw the fish in the pan with a pat of butter and some salt and pepper that Joel brought with them in the little cooler, and set the other foil packets over the fire to heat.

The fish is flaky and tastes nothing like the gamey meat she’s used to, so Ellie eats her fill and tries to ignore how thrilled Joel looks to see her eat something that isn’t bread or fruit. He’s not subtle about it, offering her a second helping before she’s finished the first. It’s only a little smothering so she decides not to give him shit about it.

They’re full and sated by the time Joel pulls out his guitar and hands it to Ellie.

“You been practicin’?”

True to his word, he’d taught her how to play guitar when they got to Jackson. And he knows she’s practiced because he hears her every night up in her room with the smaller guitar he’d traded for, floundering through the chords to her favorite songs in the old, tattered copy of “100 Greatest 80’s Hits” she found at the trading post. She knows how to read music, but making her fingers do what she wants them to do on the strings is tough, and she doesn’t have the benefit of Joel’s calluses.

She stumbles through the first two stanzas and the chorus of “Don’t Dream It’s Over” before she has to stop and restart. Joel listens, eyes softened by the firelight, and suggests a slight adjustment to her posture that seems to help with the larger guitar.

Then it’s his turn. He makes it look easy; the music seems to come directly from his fingers, and his voice is soft but strong. It’s not nearly as bad as he thinks it is. She thinks he could have been a singer in the Before, but she’ll never tell him that. And his taste in music is still questionable, but it’s better than nothing.

The fire flickers and crackles and warms her. She slides off the log they’re using as a makeshift seat and puts her back against it, stretching out her legs. Between the darkness and the heat and the day’s long hike, she’s tempted to curl up at Joel’s feet like a cat and sleep, so drowsy that she doesn’t even notice when he’s put the guitar away.

“Bedtime, kiddo,” he says softly, nudging her with his boot. “Can’t carry you this time.”

“‘Cause you’re too damn old,” she yawns. “Need that scooter.”

“Uh-huh. Scooter ain’t gettin’ us up that ladder. C’mon, you first. I’ll clean up.”

She ascends the tower at a slightly less frantic clip and goes straight to her bedroll, barely having pulled off her boots before crawling into her sleeping bag. She hears Joel come up not long after, then he’s rustling around in the cabin doing Joel things–locking the door and loading the rifle and draping an extra wool blanket over her. By that point, she’s already sound asleep.

Then she’s being shaken gently awake. 

“Ellie…hey, kiddo. Wake up.”

“Whassit?” she grumbles. It’s not dark, but it’s not daylight. She can just make out Joel’s features looming over her.

“C’mere,” he says. “Wanna show you somethin’.”

She wriggles out of her sleeping bag, still blinking in confusion. Joel drapes the wool blanket over her shoulders and she pulls it tight around herself. It’s not cold enough for a frost yet, but it’s not warm. Outside, the moon is full and bright, casting lunar shadows on the landscape around them. It’s beautiful, but hardly worth waking up at the ass-crack of…what the hell time is it, anyway?

“What–”

“Shh,” he whispers, leading her around the balcony to the other side of the building. “Look over there. Not too far out.”

A black shape materializes, trundling slowly, cautiously along the western edge of the valley. A snout lifts into the air as if checking for something, and Ellie has the distinct impression it can hear them.

“Is…is that a fucking bear ?”

“Shhh, don’t scare ‘em,” he whispers, taking a seat with his back to the windows, legs dangling off the edge of the balcony. Ellie sits cross-legged next to him, wrapping her blanket around her to guard against the fall chill.

“Whoa.”

The bear is close…like, really fucking close. Even in the dim light, she can see the reflection off its sleek fur, the tip of its nose, its dark eyes. She finds herself reaching out to grip Joel’s wrist, surprised to be, well…a little scared. They never worried about animals during their time on the road. They never stayed in one place long enough, never had enough scraps to leave behind. There was the occasional moose or deer, and those were welcome because they were potential food. Occasionally they’d hear the haunting calls of coyotes, and those were enough to keep Ellie awake at night if her imagination didn’t do the job for her.

The real threat was other people, whether infected or not. But tonight, after months enveloped in the safety of Jackson’s walls, Ellie feels painfully exposed. She scoots closer to Joel. He knows better than to say anything, just puts an arm around her and tucks her against his side.

“Wait,” she says, eyeing the distance between them and the bear, then them and the ground. “Can’t bears, like…climb?”

“Not this far. That’s why I brought the food up. ‘Sides, she’s got other things to worry about. Look.”

It takes a second, but soon Ellie sees the smaller cub lumbering along behind its mother. The pair weave their way across the landscape, pausing occasionally to sniff the air.

“Den’s probably nearby if the cub’s out this late,” Joel says, rubbing at his chin.

“So bears have bedtimes, too?” she smirks.

She can feel his chuckle against her side, a deep rumble in his chest.

“We’ll wanna make a lotta noise on the way back, make sure they know we’re around. Shouldn’t be too hard for you,” he says, poking her lightly on the shoulder.

“You love it and you know it,” she says.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do,” he says, and she feels the warm press of a kiss to the top of her head.

“Hey, Joel…what do you call a bear without any teeth?”

“A gummy bear,” he says, so fucking smug. “You can do better than that.”

“Ugh, asshole. Okay, okay, umm…wait…gimme a sec…oh! Why did the grizzly wear a tank top?”

Joel sighs.

“He had the right to ‘bear arms’!”

“Terrible,” he groans. “‘Sides, bears don’t have arms, they have–”

“Dude, really? Don’t be that guy.”

He reaches up and musses her hair. Funny, when that jerk Michael Sumner did the same, she’d tried to break his nose. When Joel does it, it makes her chest feel warm and tight.

When the bears have wandered into the trees and out of sight, Joel yawns and stretches and gets to his feet. “You ain’t a bear cub, so it’s bedtime for you, twerp.”

“I don’t even have a bedtime.”

“Sure you do. You’ve just never stayed up late enough to see it.”

She’s pretty fucking sure that’s not true and he knows it, because she’s gone whole nights without sleeping and he’s been by her side every time.

“That was pretty cool,” she admits back in the cabin, when she’s wriggling into her sleeping bag and pulling the blanket over herself.

“Yeah,” he yawns into the crook of his arm, then reaches over to shut off the lantern. “Thought so, too.”

There’s another yawn and the briefest touch of his hand to her head before he says, “G'night, kid. Have good dreams.”

“Night.”

She lays awake, staring up at the rafters, too keyed up from seeing the bears to fall asleep right away.

For all of Jackson’s weirdness, their little house and her room and her bed have…grown on her. It helped that Joel had shown up at her bedroom door one rainy July morning and looked around the room with a certain determination.

“This place could use a new coat of paint, huh?”

It needed a lot more than that. They’d spent that weekend stripping the ugly wallpaper from the walls, and the following weekend covering the whole thing with primer and a light eggshell blue paint–leftover from the rec center remodel, Tommy said. Joel had shown her how to soften the wallpaper glue with a spray bottle and an iron set on low, how to cut in the corners and smooth out her brush strokes and use the angled brush around the edges so there weren’t blobs of paint everywhere. He’d repaired the broken shelves and traded for new bedding and curtains and added a wall mount for her guitar until the room was almost unrecognizable from what it had been.

Now the shelves hold her few books, her collection of cool rocks, her comics. The pictures and posters on the walls are all things she drew or found at the trading post. The photo of Joel and Sarah holds a prominent place on her dresser. It smells like fresh paint and the lemongrass wood cleaner Joel uses on the floors, and somewhere along the line, the bad memories faded a bit. Not gone…just not as sharp, not as vivid.

A sinking feeling settles in her stomach, a kind of unfamiliar, aching sadness. She knows the word “homesick”, but she’s never been lucky enough to have a home to miss.

She scoots closer to Joel until her forehead presses lightly against his shoulder. It isn’t because he smells like wood smoke and the lavender soap from the commissary. It’s not because the flannel is soft, or because he naturally shifts toward her in his sleep, ready to put an arm out if she needs him. It’s not because of that. She’s just a little cold.

He’s already snoring, the same rumbling cadence that drifts across the hall every night. It makes her think of the bear and her cub, tucked away in a cave somewhere nearby, curled up together. Safe. Home.

She doesn’t even remember falling asleep. When she wakes, she’s surprised to see daylight; faint, but the sun is almost up. Joel is…where is Joel? She sits up. He’s not in the cabin or outside on the balcony. She pads out the door, still in socked feet, wincing. Her blisters hurt, but not in the sharp, angry way they did yesterday. Just a dull, achy annoyance. She’ll live, as Joel would say.

Wisps of smoke rise into the air from below. She leans over the railing and finds him standing next to the fire. From this vantage point, all she sees is the top of his head, messy brown hair threaded with gray, the shoulders of his green flannel, and the mug of coffee steaming in his hand.

He looks up before she can call out to him, smiles while squinting up at her. “Hey, up there.”

She waves and runs back inside to put on her boots, then she descends the ladder–she’s gotten really fast at it, practically sliding down the rail–and jumps the last five rungs onto the ground.

”Jesus, kid, slow down. You’re gonna break your neck goin’ like that.”

“Morning to you, too, sunshine,” she chirps.

They eat around a small fire, finishing last night’s leftovers and some of the granola mix. Joel chops more firewood to replace what they used while Ellie packs up their camp. She restrains herself from stealing the one-eyed doll from the rafters.

Joel goes quiet after breakfast, focused on “leaving the lookout in better shape than they found it”, he says. But as they set off on the path back to Jackson, something feels off. They’ve barely covered the first mile when he clears his throat and catches her eye, that look that says something’s on his mind.

“So, uh…wanted to talk to you.”

She braces herself. She hears the conversation in her head in Joel’s signature drawl.

I’m sorry, but this ain’t workin’.

Time for us to go our separate ways.

You’re not my daughter, and I sure as hell ain’t your dad.

Part of her rails against it. There’s no way. Joel would never leave her, Joel would never…he would never .

But the other part–the small, mean, shameful part she keeps tucked deep down inside, the one that will always be there no matter how old she gets, no matter how long she stays with Joel–is waiting for him to make good on that threat.

She shrugs, muttering. “Okay, I guess.”

They’re side by side, almost brushing shoulders, and she straightens her spine and lifts her chin.

“Meant to tell you this last night, but…it was late n’…anyway. Outbreak Day’s comin’ up.”

“Uh huh.”

He screws up his face like he’s sucked on something sour, one of the tiny green crabapples that are just starting to grow on the tree in the backyard of the house they share. In the house where she sleeps now, in the room he helped repaint and redecorate. In the town where they live, where she goes to school, where he builds things. Home.

She suddenly remembers their conversation from months ago.

September 26th.

Joel’s birthday.

That homesick feeling wraps itself around her insides again and pulls, a steady downward tug of grief. Suddenly she wants nothing more than to be safe in Jackson’s walls, sitting at the dining table with Joel and Tommy and Maria and baby Isabel, laughing over some dumb joke Tommy told at Joel’s expense until milk squirts out her nose. She does not want to be here, does not want to be having this conversation, even if she doesn’t know what he’s talking about yet.

She picks up her pace, forcing Joel to do the same.

“That’s, uh…that’s kind of a rough…time.”

“For you and, like, everyone,” she says, practically marching away until he catches up, grasping her by the shoulder.

“Hey, would you slow down?” he huffs. “Let’s just…stop for a sec.”

She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms. “If you’re trying to…to…pawn me off on Tommy again–”

“What?” he balks. “No, I–”

“Is this about the stupid Fireflies?”

He goes very still. “What do you mean by that?”

I swear.

“Nothing,” she mutters, kicking at a rock, unable to meet his eyes. “I dunno, I just…you’re being fucking weird, man.”

“No, it’s not about the…no. It’s–it’s…Christ, you know I’m shit at this stuff. Just…gimme a minute.”

He walks to the side of the path, hands on his hips, frowning. Finally he takes a breath and looks at her. 

“I’m not sure how I’ll…be for a few days. Might be…different, is all.”

“You gonna turn into a werewolf? Grow fangs and claws or some shit?”

He sighs in frustration. “No.”

“So, what? You gonna beat me or something?” She tries to smile, to make a joke of it, but her voice falls flat.

“No! Jesus, no, nothin’ like that,” he says. “Ellie, I’d never. Not ever . You know that, right?”

She looks at him for a long time, sees the desperation in his eyes, before nodding slowly. She wonders if he knows that a beating is the least of her worries as far as punishment goes. Doesn’t think he could take hearing about all the other shit that happened to kids in FEDRA school. For all his experience, Joel could be incredibly naive. Or maybe he just didn’t want to see it, didn’t want to think about it. She supposes she can’t blame him. If he knew just how broken and bruised she was, he’d probably run away screaming.

“I know, dude,” she huffs, trying to brush it off. “It was a joke.”

“Jokes are s’posed to be funny,” he says flatly. “And I’d never–ever–hurt you like that.”

She throws up her hands. “Then stop making me guess and just tell me what the fuck is wrong!”

“Alright,” he grumbles, running a hand through his hair. “Thing is…I used to drink. A lot. A lot more than…well, just a lot.”

Her brow furrows. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen Joel take more than a sip or two from his flask when they were on the road, and only when it got cold. Come to think of it, she doesn’t think she’s seen him drink anything stronger than shitwater since they came back to Jackson.

“After Sarah…after the…everything…well,” he says. “I ain’t proud of it. Could say I come by it honestly–”

“Your dad,” she says softly.

“Uh-huh. An’ it was always worse this time of year. Come end of September…I’d lock myself in the apartment and, uh…lose a week or so. Tess usually left, stayed…somewhere else. Checked in on me, made sure I didn’t…that I didn’t, uh–”

“I get it,” Ellie says, lump in her throat. “The guy who shot and missed.”

“Right. But I’m not gonna do that,” he says quickly. “No drinkin’. Between you and Tommy and everythin’ else…can’t afford to. Don’t want to.”

She nods carefully, fidgeting with her hands, picking at her cuticles. Just when she thinks she’s found her footing, something like this comes along and throws her off again.

“Just don’t know how it’s gonna go,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I haven’t been sober for this in…well, probably since the…the first one. Might be a bit…a bit cross.”

“So…normal, then?”

He sighs and gives her The Look, the one that tells her this is supposed to be a serious conversation and she needs to take it seriously. But she’s fucking lost, as usual. Is this the kind of shit people used to do Before? Stand around and talk about their feelings? It would almost be easier if he used his fists. She knows he’s good with those. He sucks at words even more than she does.

Besides, what does he want her to say? Thanks for not drinking yourself to death? Thanks for not offing yourself?

He continues more softly, struggling his way through. “I just want you to know…if I’m…if…I’m not good…for a little while…it’s not you. Okay? There’s nothin’ you could do to…to make me that way.”

She remembers the first time he told her he was sorry, how lost she’d felt when he’d tried to explain how she shouldn’t have had to shoot that kid. No grown-up had ever been sorry for anything in her life and she’d long stopped expecting them to be. Now Joel was apologizing for something he might not even do…and it wasn’t even that bad.

“Y’know, you can always go to Tommy or Maria if–”

Her eyes snap to his face. “I want to stay with you.”

“I know. But…if you need to. I won’t…be mad.”

She shrugs, not knowing what the fuck to say. “Can we go now?”

He considers her for a moment, then ducks his head in a nod.

“Sure. Yeah…let’s go.”

They walk in muted silence for a while. Ellie thinks about their house in Jackson, thinks about Joel pushing Tommy into a lake, about him squeezing her toes through her sock after bandaging her foot, about his arm around her shoulders reminding her where she stands. She realizes that the things she knows about Joel’s past can probably be counted on one hand.

He had a daughter.

He killed people.

He was a smuggler.

Now she could add “He was a drunk” to that list.

And yet, none of those things, save for the first, made the person she knew as Joel Miller.

He made good pancakes.

He bandaged her blisters.

He taught her how to hold a gun and play guitar and fish and hunt. How to keep watch and protect herself.

The silence lasts until Jackson is a tiny speck in the distance. Finally she breaks it.

“I know you said…you’re lucky to worry about me. But…that goes both ways.”

He shakes his head. “Ellie, you shouldn’t have to–”

“I want to.”

He looks over at her sharply.

“I just…I don’t wanna go away ‘cause you’re having a bad time…or whatever,” she says, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground, on each step ahead. “You’re always there for me when things are shitty. It’s only fair.”

He opens his mouth, probably to tell her it’s not the same because he’s a grown-up and she’s a kid or some shit, but she cuts him off.

“And I know it’s not about…me, okay? I get it. I’m almost sixteen, which is practically seventeen, which is basically an adult. I can handle it.”

His eyebrow goes up to his hairline at that, mouth twitching in a little smirk. His hands are full, so she grabs his wrist, circling it with her fingers, squeezing to get the point across.

Finally he nods, speaking softly in his familiar warm drawl. “Alright.”

She nods back, satisfied, returning his smile.

Together, they walk toward home.

[ax-y10]

musician! bur mood board and headcanons

so, i've decided that i am going to be impatient and make headcanons for the inages and how they relate to musician! bur.

i also may or may not have chosen the images with the intent of making headcanons.

oh, and the layout for the order of the photos: first row: 1, 2, 3 second row: 4, 5, 6 third row: 7, 8, 9

anyways, headcanons below the cut:

1. "your voice is my favourite sound"

when wilbur is stuck in a writer's block, he'll listen more intently to when you talk and what you're talking about.

if he thinks it can be used in a song, he'll definitely record the conversation without you knowing.

he'll hint at the fact he wants to use that conversation as backing vocals and such, saying "your voice is my favourite sound" and will casually take a photo of you when you blush at his sly remark.

he wants to make sure every rant, conversation, and random sentences you voice are recorded in history, whether it be in his songs, on his phone, or stored on his computer to listen to as he works.

2. "everything's better with a little background music"

he will say this when you both are doing domestic activities, beabadoobee or the arctic monkeys playing on his speaker

"everything's better with a little background music" when you're washing the dishes, maintaining the lawn, when he's playing guitar for you in his room, when he shouts over the running water of the shower

he lives by this motto. it's constantly uttered every other minute of the day.

absolutely somehow pisses of his bandmates by bringing you on tour and muttering "everything's better with a little background music" at midnight to keep you awake, and just hearing mark shout "wilbur! shut up!"

3. "but wilbur! it's cool!"

one day, you had a need to take photos and keep them to look at later. one of the victims was wilbur's record collection and his headphones

you hadn't brought it up with him, but once he walked into the room with you positioning the headphones and touching his record collection, of course he was going to be anxious. that's his favourite collection!

"y/n! what are you doing?" he said, frantic, almost startling you. "i'm taking photos, wil," it didn't ease him at all. "yes! but i love that collection! please don't touch them!" you paused. "but wilbur! it's cool!"

when you showed you the photo later, he was over-joyed and begged you to make more. as long as you didn't hurt his music.

4. "you look pretty..."

it was a date, and you'd both decided that you were going to go record shopping so you could expand your own collection. wilbur's excuse was that "the atmosphere in the stores are cool! you have to see it!"

wilbur had his phone out the entire time, even though you had asked him to put it away because you felt awkward

you heard him utter "you look pretty..." while you were sifting through different records, immediately looking up at him and seeing a bright flash

when you got home, you saw a different background on his phone. it was the photo he took of you when he called you pretty.

5. "wilbur. smile!"

you were trying to take photos of him after lovejoy performed a gig, but he either wasn't staying still, was somewhere different to you or had the most default expression on his face.

"darling, hold on. let me put my stuff away then you can take a photo," you would not take such disrespect /j

"wilbur. stop real quick" and he stilled, and looked at you, so very unimpressed, so you took a funny photo of him through a small fit of giggles

"wilbur. smile!" you said, hoping to get a better photo, but he walked off, clearly exhausted from the day. so you joined him in bed while showing him all the photos you had of him. he fell asleep...

6. "music heals"

his birthday was coming up soon and you desperately needed to get him a gift. you thought a guitar pick would be perfect because all of his current picks were slowly being worn down from constant playing.

you found a website online that made custom picks, and you were grateful that they were uk based, making it easier to get it shipped to where you lived on time.

you got "music heals" engraved onto the pick, because it was what you always said when wilbur has in a rough spot. and he always ran to get his guitar and happily played for himself while you watched with soft eyes.

when he got it, he cried genuine 'i love you' tears. immediately engulfing you in a bear hug, he pressed soft, loving kisses across your face

7. "you've made a mess!"

for months, you sat in wilburs room with him, watching random videos he had on his phone and listening to silly stories from when they record in the studio

so the first day you go in there to watch in person, you were shocked by what the group left at the end of each rehearsal, specifically wilbur.

mark, joe, and ash all cleaned up after themselves at the end of the studio session, but wilbur left his things on the ground, leaving more mess for everyone else to clean up. you quickly snapped a phot and walked up to wilbur, holding the phone close to his face.

"you've made a mess!" you said, faux angry, clearly meant to be a snarky remark, but wilbur showed the opposite effect. "yes, sweetheart. i'll clean it up in a second," you had to clean it up because he fell asleep

8. "i love it!"

it was after a lovejoy gig when a small meet and greet had created itself. everyone either had a gift for wilbur or wanted to take a photo.

every gift he got, he replied with an enthusiastic "thank you so much!" but one gift stuck out to both you and wilbur.

at this specific gig, you were at his side, half asleep and leaning against him. wilbur would bring every gift into your line of view and you'd give a small smile.

but this gift was a drawing of a record player and a record on it, the small spotify listening line at the bottom. his loud "i love it!" broke you out of your sleepy state, and yet again, another gift was in your eyesight. "i love it!" you'd say, before dragging his ass to bed.

9. "without music, life would be a mistake"

yet again, this is another quote of wilbur's, and is specifically uttered when he feels like shit and is listening to music.

when you both are on a flight with lovejoy, on a car ride with the sorry boys, or simply walking somewhere, you share headphones, and you both listen to his music.

you can sense when he feels like shit, so you whisper under your breath, looking up at him "without music, life would be a mistake" which immediately causes him to look down at you.

with shock in his eyes at the sudden string of words, his flat expression is replaced with a small smile, and he mutters the words back to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before continuing to listen.

[ozzgin]

I had another funny thought about our beloved whore of a reader…

Imagine there being a “Hall of Fame” located in a really important government building or something, that’s dedicated to her monster lovers. All the monsters that’ve successfully become her baby daddies are admitted to that special club. And there’s loads of memorabilia too. Like positive pregnancy tests (if those exist in the monster realm), soiled bedsheets that were fucked upon, etc.

It’s a place that monster visitors in the town, and out of town go to as a tourist attraction. After all, it’s a place that records a lot of important history. Potential monster baby daddies also go there to fantasize and seek out motivation for winning the next monster games. Gotta keep motivation when doing all those sets/reps of weighted hip thrust exercises in the gym 🤭

And something I’ve been wondering too, who is the mayor of the monster town? Is it the same monster who had tentacles and changed sizes in the original story post? Or is it a different guy? And how come the charms of reader don’t work on him? He immune?

-👘

I-

Perhaps it's my turn to look into the camera nervously. (I'm kidding anon, bless your creativity)

On the topic of Monstertown Mayor, I had a brief discussion with my partner about it (he likes to be involved) and he suggested an abstract, eternally burning existence similar to a biblically accurate angel. Because, see, who would believe him to be neutral or objective when dealing with Reader matters if he, himself, was shagging her behind the scenes? Some monsters have a physical form fit for mating, others less so.

But the Mayor, he's an amorphous, surreal blasphemy, a depthless sphere of darkness and blight with no beginning or end. Which, now that I think about it, makes the birthday scene even more hilarious. A spiraling dimension of eyes, sarcastically glancing at the cameraman every now and then, and conjuring some visible appendage to hold the coffee mug at his colossal office desk (no chair because he's just floating around). His speech is a foreign amalgamation of quantum vibrations, so they just added subtitles for everyone else at home.

[harmonyrae]

MANIFESTING 2025 Memories

Because we were absolutely FERAL and manifested smex cards, I'm gonna put my ideas for cards/banners/events out there for the Infold team - who I think we can all agree, browse social media and see our collective mental breakdown on the regular.

Some kind of astronomy banner/event with a nod to astrology. They have the boys zodiac signs listed, they know the astrology girlies would eat it UP. Maybe an event exploring a planetarium and there's a booth for a zodiac analysis with special dialogue to associate with your zodiac sign & his. I want to witness Zayne being told how much of a Virgo he is while also being reminded I am also very much a Virgo. Thanks.

Summer beach event with SWIMWEAR for both the boys & MC. I know they probably won't want to give us MC in a swimwear (for many reasons), but imagine the possibilities (full coverage bikini, tankini, dress or skirt coverup, rash guard, etc) which we could buy in the chocolate shop. And then do cute lil beach photo shoots...

Speaking of chocolate shop - PUT MORE OUTFITS IN THERE CAUSE DAMN... I know there must be people drowning in chocolate if you've got everything already. Also, we grind for it for a reason, give us more thingies please & thank you.

And speaking of outfits... if we see that red shirt show up in one more memory... Listen, personally I like the outfit, the choker is cute and it suits MC, but FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY GIVE US MORE! The boys get hot fits on the regular with events, let MC have MORE!

Oh and circling back to grinding tehe can Abyssal Chaos be reset when Caleb comes home? It would be really cool and stuff... There's only so much we can do and I KNOW WE HATE TOBIAS BUT, to be so real, I think we would all deal with him if it meant free resources.

HEAR ME OUT - a spring Renaissance Fair. I can't get the image of Sylus in armor doing a jousting contest out of my head (fanfic incoming?!) and MC in a cute lil medieval hunters outfit. Give us that time travel shit again and I will give all my money. Rafayel critiquing medieval art, Zayne conflicted about using modern medicine & OOH Xavier accidentally getting drunk on strong af mead HELLO?

MC won a bet, the boys have to do something - I've seen some fanfics, I KNOW okay. Put Rafayel in a maid outfit and Infold, you will have enough money to support yourself through 5.0!

Similar to the bet concept, a prank war. Each boy would prank MC so differently so it would be a really funny group event. Like Rafayel would not hold back, he would probably end up making MC mad. Xavier would be super silly with it, old school pranks and MC would be trying to do more modern pranks. Zayne would be hesitant to prank her, but would, only because she pranks him first. And I SWEAR Sylus wouldn't pull a single prank, but the ANTICIPATION would be MCs undoing.

Since we didn't get a Halloween event, might I suggest a Friday the 13th event? First Friday the 13th is in June and methinks that is the perfect time for something SPOOKY. Monster boys. That's all I gotta say. Make em classic horror monsters - WE KNOW YOU CAN YOU MADE THEM CATS FFS - and I will slam my credit card on the table.

Specific to the Boys:

Sylus: - I wanna be on his bike again. Please, I beg, biketok is going away and this is all I'll have (dramatic). Take me on that "joyride" baby! - I want angst. I want MC to come face to face with the consequences of being so close to Sylus. Either the Association coming down on her for her associating with him OR Sylus's enemies making a HUGE MISTAKE and coming after her to get to him. - More big dick gang leader Sylus. Show me his brutal side, WE LOVE IT AND NEED TO BE REMINDED OKAY?!

Rafayel: - MC models for him. Maybe for his birthday event? His "gift" is us modeling for a painting and it turns spicy. The multitude of fanfics speak volumes to how well this would go over. - Please PLEASE give us Rafayel with a tail. Just spend the money, render that beautiful bitch and give us an H20 "oh no I got wet, ahhh my tail" moment. I beg.

Xavier: - COOKING CLASSES. I feel like it was hinted at in the prologue for the Love Tour event, but I would love to see them in a class together. Just domestic cuteness. - ANGST ON HO HO NO... Can we have an actual Sleeping Beauty moment? Xavier falls into a deep sleep thanks to a Wanderer and MC can't wake him up. Then you go all Inception on us and MC enters his dreams to wake him up. You could feed us so much lore disguised as "just a dream" or even have MC discover some truths about his past.

Zayne: - Exchange program. MC gets to experience the other side. She works with the combat medics to gain more knowledge which will help her on the field. Maybe another "hands on training" moment withe Zayne (I MISSED THAT CARD, IT'S ONLY FAIR INFOLD). - ANGST PLEASE - MC has to have surgery after a mission. Maybe it is minor, or maybe make it major and have us cry. And Zayne has to walk his fellow doctors through the procedure because his hands are shaking so badly at the thought of losing the love of his life. (crying) - Two words. Library make-out. I will give you two more. Library smex. Give our nerdy girls the fantasy, TRUST.

For Caleb, I do hope his first card is really sweet or insanely heavy. Make a statement cause people either love him or hate him and those undecided will make up their minds with that card. He didn't get blown up for nothing, give the boy a chance.

Comment below what you'd like to see Love & Deepspace do for events or add to the game! We manifest together.

Tag List (comment if you wanna be added!): @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora

[foursaints]

okay fine 🙄 I'll be the one to ask..

since we're talking about remus and sirius: how is their sex like? are they weirdos like rosekiller or more on the vanilla side?

sending this on anon bc i feel like a Perv

♡♡ wait but i'm so glad you asked... to be honest the most major thing i see for them is a daddy kink. but in a way that differs wildly from whatever faux-daddy-kink thing rosekiller has going on.

the thing rosekiller has going on is like

(barty voice, extremely loud) YO.. DADDY’S GETTING HIMSELF A CAPRI SUN. YOU WANT ONE?

the most important thing to me is that wolfstar is a kinky couple but they are CORNY about it. they're unabashedly corny (but it's sort of cute, that they are). they're doing role-play with the little outfits, they're calling each other "daddy" & "princess", they probably own shibari ropes, and it's very domestic and stupid and lived-in (it's corny millennial kink-couple vibes, a little 😭). there is way less of the complex psychosexual veneer that i give other pairings

r/s is the heavyweight CHAMPION of daddy dom/babygirl relationships. sirius wears frilly panties & stockings that their daddy picked out, remus manhandles his little princess with his giant hands, and i think they would lean into the dynamics pretty hard in general?

remus brushes sirius's hair and does their pigtails. sirius can pout and swing her legs to get what she wants. i've had my brain chemistry fundamentally changed by fiveht's "disarm you with a smile" & greenvlvetcouch's "birthday boy" series.

(rosekiller is doing daddy stuff but in an insane faux-pederastic psychosexual freudian way where barty is working through his childhood trauma by perving on evan's innocent virginal fragility. come sit on daddy's lap, bunny. let him touch you in that place that makes you feel funny...) (this is why they're my faves)

the size kink is another major element... the fandom debates this every few months, but I'm firmly on the side of beautiful fairy princess sirius w/ her Gigantic Werewolf Husband. it's actually incredible that remus is able to fit inside her.

if you see sirius (5'3) holding remus's hand (6'5), you're briefly amazed at how their pretty head barely comes up to his collarbones.

cockwarming is definitely a huge thing for them. remus keeps her stuffed while he's grading papers, in bed in the morning, idly bounces her on it while they're watching a movie... he likes to see her pretty face when she gets overstimulated & cries

^AND he's doing this because she's always fucking bratty!!!

i just really believe that we should have the freedom to lean into the Wattpad-ification of it all. wolfstar can be really beautiful and complex (the most complex, even!), but r/s doesn't always have to be the most serious & best representation or whatever. i'm a rosekiller blog so i can carry the cross of "dainty elfin sirius in a little pink negligee & bunny-tail butt plug getting absolutely demolished by her wolf boyfriend's werewolf knot while he's in a rut, or whatever"

i think when they do sexy roleplay they make each other do voices, actually. they're dorks about it. they're dorks about everything

[mountingpulisic]

FAR FROM DONE

mason was aware he didn’t own you, however you were his girlfriend. 

observing you from across the room, he watched as you harmlessly flirted with christian. 

you were trying to teach him a lesson.  

you had come to him about your concerns with his natural flirty charisma, explaining to him how sometimes women could perceive it in a different way.

you had asked if he could dial it back a few notches and he took it as the relationship lacked trust on your end. 

the fight that occurred shouldn’t have gotten to this point, but the two of you were equally headstrong and had a vigorous time swallowing pride so a reconciliation wasn’t in the near future. 

eyes never leaving your figure, mason watched as your delicate hand softly gripped christian’s shoulder, pulling him towards you while you whispered something into his ear. 

you glanced over christian to make sure mason was watching as you playfully ruffled the midfielder’s curls. 

you wanted him to feel like you had the dozen times he mindlessly flirted with others.

“y/n, i don’t think this is the best idea.” 

christian was in on your plan to make your boyfriend jealous, he owed you a favor from a while back and you were cashing in it now at kai’s birthday party.

“pulisic, it’s going to work. I know mason, he is breaking as we speak.” 

and that he was. 

mason couldn’t fathom the thought of another guy getting to experience you in the ways that he has. however, he knew christian wouldn’t ever dare to make an actual move on you, but how the american was currently looking at you made mason’s blood boil. 

trying to distract himself from the scene that played ahead, he zoned in on the conversation reece and ben were having next to him. 

noticing that your boyfriend turned his attention elsewhere, you knew that you needed to up your transmission. grabbing christian’s wrist you pulled him towards the center of the makeshift dance floor at the german’s house. 

“wha-what are you doing, y/n? I have two left feet, i’m just going to embarrass myself and you.” christian argued. 

“just follow my lead, pulisic.” 

you pulled christian respectfully close to you as you helped guide his hips to the beat of the current song that was playing. It was initially a lot harder than you thought since he wasn’t lying when he said that he had two left feets. 

“pulisic, oh my gosh, you're dancing as if i’m your grandma.” you laugh. with the way he was moving mason was just going to find the situation funny. 

“okay, one. I already told you i couldn’t dance and two, i’m trying to live to see my twenty-fifth birthday y/n.” even though he owed you a favor, christian wasn’t going to disrespect one of his best friend’s relationship and cross a line that was clearly drawn between the two of you. 

“okay, forget making mason jealous, just let loose and have some fun pulisic.” 

you knew that christian was having a tough time recently, not only with his knee injury but with the rumors of a transfer as well. your heart breaks at the thought of losing the american you’ve grown to love as a brother but you couldn’t help to think that the transfer was something that could be good for him, he didn’t seem happy here anymore. 

the two of you had entered your own world as you jokingly danced around each other to the music, christian had shown you his robot and it had sent you into a fit of giggles that everyone attending the party could hear. 

mason included.

“what’s so funny?” 

you didn’t even hear him approaching, spinning around you were met face to face with a stoic mason. his eyes traveling down to where yours and christian’s hands were friendly intertwined as you had been previously swinging each other around. 

“oh it’s nothing man, just having some fu-” christian answered, voice slightly dying off at the end when he caught wind of your boyfriend’s unamused look. 

“flirting is what you call fun, y/n?” 

“it’s a hobby of yours that i decided to take up.” you hit back.

mason’s nostrils flared as he looked down at you, a smirk nursing your face as you had an intense stare off with your boyfriend. 

“i’ll just excuse myself.” christian spoke, wanting to flee the scene before any casualties were made. turning around to migrate into the opposite direction his movements were stopped by you placing your hand on his shoulder for the second time that night. 

“no, mason can excuse himself. you and i were enjoying ourselves.” 

if mason wasn’t irritated before, he was now. 

gripping your forearm, he dragged you alongside him to the nearest vacant bedroom, pushing you into it while following close behind. 

“okay, i’m done playing your stupid game y/n. you wanted my attention? look you got it now.” mason was fuming, he didn’t appreciate you dismissing him in infront of his friend, as if he was some type of groupie. “you still wanna act like a brat?”

a brat? was he being serious right now? you were being a brat because you were giving him a taste of his own medicine?

sticking your tongue out to your cheek, you had to count to ten in your head to calm yourself down. 

racking your mind for the best possible comeback, and after a while you found one. 

silence

you knew how much mason absolutely hated the silent treatment so you rarely did it. 

but you felt as if this was the perfect moment to start the treatment due to him being a grade a asshole when it came to not properly acknowledging your concerns about his behavior. 

now you were not going to properly acknowledge his existence. 

choosing not to give him the reaction he was desperately looking for, you brushed past him out of the bedroom, making sure to add a little force. 

“hey, i asked you a question? you done now? can we go back to normal? he called after you. 

however, he was only meant with silence again as you slammed the door behind you. 

fast forwarding to a week later, you still hadn’t uttered a word to mason. 

he asked what you wanted for dinner? silence.

he asked if you wanted to watch a movie? silence.

he said an i love you before bed? silence.

it was killing the portsmouth alumni that you weren’t speaking to him, walking around your shared home like a kicked puppy, hoping you’d break and comfort him in cuddles. 

that never happened though, you promised yourself you weren’t going to speak to him until he realized his inappropriate behavior. 

you had taken up baking as a pastime to help distract you from mason walking around in self-pity, purposefully letting out loud sighs of distress when you were near. 

zoned in on reading the recipe for the cake you were baking, you hadn’t heard mason make his way into the kitchen. leaning against the wall, mason took in the scene infront of him. 

you were bent over reading the recipe off your laptop. this caused for mason to suppress a groan as his eyes traveled up from your exposed thighs to your perky ass that the shorts you were wearing showcased nicely. 

mason was touch starved nonetheless, beside craving your voice, he also craved your body. 

deciding that enough time has passed and he was ready to get off punishment, mason pushed himself off the wall and settled behind you, your ass now grazing his pelvic area.

“princess, i wanna get off punishment.” mason whined, pressing his semi further into you. 

mason took the advantage to wrap his fingers around your throat, easing you out of your bending position to stand up right. pressing opened mouth kisses to your neck, mason thought you had folded when you didn’t move away from his displays of affection. smirking to himself, mason lips moved to ghost over your ear. 

“finally, you’re done being a brat.” 

instantly you stiffen, grabbing his arms and removing them from your waist, you slowly turned around. 

mason’s face appeared confused about your sudden change in demeanor. 

pulling your hand from behind your back, mason noticed that you had an egg nesting in between your fingers. before he had the chance to ask, he heard the crack and saw what followed behind, a oozing yellow mess

you were far from done.

a/n : this will be a three part series, super nervous because i'll be including smut in this as well ;) thank you for reading

part two