#gonna take a minute to just. disintegrate.

[good-beans]

WE DID IT

[micamone]

"what's your music taste" brother spotify just recommended the fucking hokey pokey to me. i wish i knew

[dilftaroooo]

hii new anon🎀

ex-boyfriend gojo who has an obsession over you and has been following you around. you’ve “moved on” and invite a man to hookup but he just couldn’t make u cum. as soon as the guy leaves gojo comes over and fucks you dumb.

>.<

gojo being on the sidelines before coming in to finish the job is kinda crazy. i can imagine he followed u from the bar you were in before leaning near the door to your apartment. waiting for your hookup to leave.

★tags/tw: stalking + toxicity + bathtub sex + he fucks u with his clothes on while ur bathing + fem!reader w she/her pronouns + nipple play + unprotected sex + unsatisfied sex (with ur hookup) + ummm home invasion but not, really?? + idfk I'm not a judge + gojo kinda comes in unannounced + attempt at proofread bc im sleepy so some shit might look janky.

The small dicked fucker left as soon as he spurted over your abdomen, the runny substance cascades through the crease between the start of your thighs and the edge of your pussy, which, hasn't released a drop of arousal the whole night.

The man you hooked up with had to blow a glob of spit onto your folds before he'd rub a finger on your make-believe clit, 'Yeah, know you like that. You came to the right person, sweet thing'. Why did you even bring him over? He's not even doing this shit properly. You're sure he wouldn't know where your clit laid even if you made a map and pointed it out for him. If you're gonna be cocky at least do it right.

Your hot bath gave you more pleasure since it was the perfect ratio of water to bubbles. The white foam didn't completely submerge you and you took the time to let the liquid stray you from your mind while listening to the sound of bubbles crunching from around.

Apparently, smelling the medicinal aroma of eucalyptus must've blurred the taps of footsteps making their way into your apartment and into your master bathroom.

"There she is. Taking a bath already? Your one-time fling came here, what, not over ten minutes ago and left? I'm sure you had the night of your life." The mockery in the intruder's tone was evident with each word he spoke.

His hair was still the absence of color, resembling the white sheets stacked high at the corner of your room. His skin was pale and somewhat glossy with expensive moisturizer. Aqua spheres were decorated with flecks of adorable baby blue. He's buff, perhaps buffer than the last time you saw him. But most of everything was unchanged.

He squats next to your incredulous as well as vulnerable figure in the ivory porcelain of your bathtub.

"How'd you get in here?" You inquiry.

"It's no good to leave the keys to your apartment under that more than obvious vase next to your front door. It's corny and you can get robbed that way too." He takes a peek at nipples covered by a translucent blanket. The bubbles had disintegrated leaving you exposed from the lack of foam.

You forgot he knows about the key underneath your grandmother's vase. You're the one who told him about it and you silently wish you hadn't.

"Well, congratulations on committing a federal crime. Now leave, Satoru."

"Oh, but darling you trusted me enough to tell me about those keys so I'm doing nothing wrong. Now, enlighten me, did that guy make you come so hard that he had you seeing stars?"

The lukewarm water kisses your pores in an attempt to soothe your beating heart. The scent of your ex was still riddled with that same lustful scent of mint and cinnamon, a cologne that you remember gifting him for the sole reason of how arousing it was paired with taut muscles and blue eyes.

You felt like a needy omega, shaking in the comfort of your den as your eyes water at the sight of your alpha and cowering at the pheromones leaking off his body and into your awaiting nostrils. He smells so fucking good.

"I know you heard me, sugar plum." You won't forget how much he loved to jeer at you. He wanted to hear you admit how much of a bad fuck your hookup was and how he didn't even get you to come. How you wished it was Satoru that took his place and filled your achy cunt til his balls smack your ass.

You adjust your seating when a warm palm engulfs your cheek whole. Not a trace of your skin color reveals itself under Satoru's hand. He's big even when squatting down to your size. The scowl on your face juxtaposes the grin on Satoru's.

"That's none of your business. We're not together anymore. Stop riding my dick."

"Though I do love a good ride, I think it's you who wants to do the riding, sweetheart."

Fingers crawl over your neck, down to the tops of your breasts, and onto your perky nipples. He continues to tease you by drawing circles around them making you tremble with unadulterated desire.

"Am I wrong? You can't even look me in my eyes. Bet you're not even aware of how heavy you're breathing. Poor girl. He didn't give you what you wanted. Say it." It almost sounded commanding if not for the lithe of his voice

"Fuck, hah, fuck you, Satoru..." The man cheeses.

"Right now?"

"Shit, yes."

"Knew you’d come around."

His patience must've ran thin because he didn't even bother taking his clothes off. Only unzipping his flyer to pull out his aroused dick and fleshy balls before joining you in the now cold water.

You were still his pretty princess as you took him in deep into your cavern, the bath water that surrounded you sloshed with every dominant thrust Satoru pounded you with and you did nothing but moan the name of your supposed ex like a vintage record player.

"Was he able to reach that spot that you liked hit, baby?"

"Mm-mm." You muffled.

"And why is that, huh?" His cock has that cute upturn that repeatedly nudges at your slimy walls which encourages your arousal to spill and combine with the bath water. You were better off taking a shower.

"Because he wasn't you." Your words came out in increments as he beats your pussy raw. The sound of almost every syllable slurred like a drunken man's tongue.

"That's it. You got it now, darling. You still missed me, didn’t you?" The fabric of his clothes is now soaked due to his stubbornness but there was no room for complaints when cotton and denim cling to jutting muscles. The pink of his areolas revealed itself under wet clothes. His nipples were as hard as yours. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

[elliesdoll]

pt. 3 to my angsty loser!ellie thingy 𝜗𝜚

pt.1 pt.2

nsfw! ellie cries lol, it’s kinda sweet? giggly sex at first, boobie sucking, ellie is kind of a weirdo idk… she makes out with your pussy, oral(e!receiving), fingering (e!recieving), squirt alert!, ellie cums way too fast, tribbing, desperate ellie like damn shes genuinely tweakinf. this is lowkey so nasty idk wut came over me

this is kinda long im sorry… AND NOT PROOFREAD im too lazy for allat. forgive me for any typos i will not be fixing!😊

daily click don’t buy tlou palestine mp

she had no fucking clue what to do. maybe she could pull her pants up and push herself through the tiny ass window above your shower? leave and block your number, move towns, and change her name. maybe that would work.

she shamefully pulled her sweatpants up and wiped her wet fingers on the fabric, then hid her face in her hands. what the fuck was she gonna do now? she was so sick, so perverted. all ellie could do was imagine you in your room right now, feeling so betrayed by your closest friend for being so perverted in the safety of your own home.

ellie was secretly praying to die right in this moment. she’d die happily, if zeus decided to strike her down with a lightning bolt and disintegrate her, right on your tiled floor. why was she like this? she loved you so much, she couldn’t help shoving her hand in her pants at the sight of you. but in a sick way, it wasn’t from lust.

it was from love.

ellie told herself she had some sick masturbation problem, and she probably needed to be put on some medication for being fucking insane. she just couldn’t help it. your kindness made her heart swell so much that it made her horny, in the weirdest way.

ellie had gotten horny from other things before, sure. but that’s all it was. lust. you, you made her horny in the same way that you made her tummy get butterflies. she just wanted to love on you. she had so much love and affection to give, the only way to release it was through taking care of herself, shamefully.

which is what led her to be in the predicament she’s in right now. she swore she’d never masturbate again, after this.

after maybe 10 minutes of sitting in silence, she decided to leave the bathroom. no use in staying there forever.

the walk down the hall to your room felt so suspenseful and wya too fucking long. maybe it’s because her steps got slower the closer she got.

she had already composed what she was going to say to you. “I don’t know what you saw, but it’s not what it looks like.” and go from there. But the second she entered through the door and saw you sitting on your bed, looking up at her with the most intense look in your eyes, all that went out the window.

“i am so sorry.”

she mumbled, her throat having this large, suffocating lump in it from the urge to cry. before you could say anything back, she spoke again.

“i’m so fucking sorry, i don’t know what i was thinking. i— im so fucked up i know, you didn’t deserve that—“

she continues on, her hands gripping so tightly on the bottom of her hoodie, to the point her knuckles turn white. she doesn’t even realize the tears that spill down her face, not until the look on your face changes. your eyebrows raise, and you look almost like you’re pitying her.

“els… stop that. it’s okay. you’re fine.”

you say, standing up and getting right in front of her. you almost wanted to say sorry for intruding on her, but honestly— what the hell was she doing that for in the first place? you didn’t pry, only wanting to calm her down.

“i thought we could laugh it off. yknow.. like something we could look back on and smile about. no need to cry.”

you say softly to her, using that gentle voice you had whenever you wanted to be sincere. you even go as far as to wipe some of the wetness off her cheek with your thumb.

you were so good to her. she should be relieved to hear your response, but she’s not. it only makes her more frustrated.

“i can’t.”

she looks down at the floor, unable to look you in the eye.

“can’t? can’t what?”

you’re confused, why can’t she just move on from it? you really wanted to bury this memory and stay the way you were.

“i can’t move on.”

she blurts out, a few stray tears still rolling down her cheeks. you just stare at her for a moment, and then it clicks.

“oh.”

you knew exactly what she meant by that. the poor girl, she had her feelings for you all pent up inside of her for god knows how long. you felt terrible, for making her feel even worse about this whole thing. but at the same time, you felt unreasonably giddy.

the fact that ellie, your very bestest friend, had such a big crush on you that it brought her to tears? how flattering is that? you always had a little thing for her, but you brushed yours up as some silly friend crush.

but her tiny confession made your heart pound like nobody has done before.

you grab her hands and lead her to your bed, sitting her down in front of you. you were gonna set this right.

“ellie, why didn’t you tell me?”

she looks at you as if you were dumb. why in the hell would she ever admit her undying love for her best friend?

“because you’re… i don’t fucking know! you’re my best friend nd’ i didn’t wanna mess things up— n’ you have those stupid fuck buddies of yours and—“

oh, the fuck buddies. you now realize why ellie was so quick to leave your home that day she showed up unannounced. the poor baby probably had her feelings so hurt.

“you know, there’s a reason i never actually end up dating them, ellie. that’s all they were to me. they didn’t really make me… feel.”

you say, wiping the tears off her cheeks with one thumb. the way she looked at you made your heart melt.

“..huh? feel what?”

she raises an eyebrow, completely missing what you’re saying. you laugh, covering your eyes for a moment. you forgot you’re talking to ellie. you kinda have to spell it out for her.

“dude. i’m saying that you make me feel.”

she stares at you blankly. she really is doesn’t wanna assume, too afraid of embarrassing herself. you sigh.

“fuck, ellie. i like you too.”

you’ve never seen the girls eyes get so wide. is this even fucking real? ellie couldn’t believe her reddened ears. she doesn’t even have the capacity to feel embarrassed anymore. all she feels is absolute, genuine shock.

“are… are you sure?”

she asks quietly, sniffling a bit. the girl’s nose was still running from her humiliating breakdown in front of you. you almost get pissed at her stupid question.

“yes? the hell?”

you narrow your eyes at her, giving her shoulder as slight shove. she grunts and shoves you back, playfully.

“i was just making sure! i can’t tell if you’re fucking with me.”

“why would i be fucking with you? i’m not evil, ellie.”

she just shrugs, and lets out a slight giggle. she smiles a bit, wiping her damp, sticky face. god, how you loved her smile. it was the sweetest thing ever. both of you giggled for a minute, laughing at the absurdity of this whole thing.

after a few seconds of comforting laughter and smiles between the two of you, you realize ellie isn’t gonna make a move. of course she isn’t, even after that confession. ellie would never make the first move, no way in hell. so, you lean in and give her a quick peck on the lips, less than a second long. it caught her completely off guard.

her eyes widened so much, and her eyebrows raised so far up. you literally saw her cheeks redden, like you two were in a movie. she couldn’t stop herself from beaming at you. a large, toothy grin right that made her cheeks hurt. she didn’t even say anything, just grabbing the sides of your face and bringing you in for a kiss again.

she kisses so hard. her lips push against yours, you could feel her smiling against your mouth. she pulls apart for a second, just looking at you. then, she moves right back in.

the kiss is softer this time, more passionate. in ellie’s mind, she was gonna do this right. she’s gone over in her head thousands of times what she would do if she got to kiss you, to make love with you. she couldn’t mess this up.

you two make out for a bit, the smacking noises from the kissing makes your head feel fuzzy. you’re still pretty wet, from the kissing and the sight you saw earlier. after you pull away from her lips for some air, you give her this look. you want more.

“is.. is this okay?”

ellie asks, slowly kissing your neck and stopping just to look at your reaction. you smile and nod, finding her mannerisms to be too fucking cute. she was so eager.

ellie was in heaven. your skin tasted so good, and you smelled like you. her favorite scent. she peppered kisses over every square inch of your neck and shoulders, her hands resting on your hips. she didn’t dare move your top though, too scared to initiate it.

you slowly moved her shaky, clammy hands to the bottom of your little top, letting her grab it and guiding her hands upwards. you whispered to her in a reassuring tone.

“els, it’s okay.”

she just looks at you, pupils blown and nods. she slowly pulled your top off and over your head, letting your tits spill out right in front of her. of course she noticed you weren’t wearing a bra the second she came over, but it still took her breath away.

“holy fuck.”

she muttered, staring right at your tits. they’re better than she imagined. and she imagined them to be the most perfect tits ever. she couldn’t help herself, poor baby. she just had to lean in and take one of your nipples into her mouth. her left hand flew to your other breast, kneading the soft flesh.

the quick action made you gasp lightly, letting out a tiny whine at the feeling of her teeth nipping at your skin. she was tasting you. you felt her warm face press against your skin, as if she was trying to suffocate herself. you got a bit worried, so you tapped her cheek.

“e-els, you gotta breathe—“

you were cut off by her lips popping off your breast, a string of saliva connecting your nipple to her lips. she murmured a quiet “fuck me,” and immediately went to your other nipple, repeating the same motion.

your eyes almost roll to the back of your head. how the fuck was she so good with her tongue? the way she eagerly licked over your nipples until they hardened in her mouth, nipping at them softly. literally eating your fucking tits right in front of you.

“you’re so fucking beautiful. so so beautiful.”

ellie mumbles to you, forcing herself to get off your boobs. she could spend the rest of her life right there, but there was more to tend to. her hands went to the hem of your shorts, looking at you for permission.

as much as you wanted to say yes and let her do whatever the hell she wanted, you wanted to see her even more. you tug lightly on her hoodie, giving her a gentle smile.

“take this off first?”

say less. say fucking less, is all ellie thought. she stuttered out a quiet “okay, okay,” and nodded, messily pulling her hoodie off of her. you giggled as it got stuck on her head, and it made her giggle along with you. neither of you could stop laughing at any little thing the other one did.

you sighed at the sight of her in her sports bra and sweats, but you wanted that shit off too. ellie wasted no time either, immediately pulling off her sports bra. you didn’t even get to admire her beautiful tits before you saw her pulling her sweats off and kicking them to the side, leaving her in her spongebob boxers. they had spongebob printed all over them.

“interesting fashion choice,”

you said through a laugh, and ellie just smiled awkwardly. she would’ve chosen a different pair if she knew she was gonna do this. fuck her stupid past self for buying that pack of spongebob-themed boxers at spencer’s a few months ago.

“god, don’t look.”

she muttered, moving closer and kissing you again. you kissed back softly, still giggling a bit. nobody made you laugh as effortlessly as she did. her thumbs hooked around the soft fabric of your shorts and panties, pulling them down in one go.

all the words ellie wanted to say died in her mouth. she laid down between your thighs and was face to face with your pussy. your pussy. she thought she was going to faint, she swore she felt her vision going.

gorgeous, that’s the only word to describe you. you were absolutely soaked, your slick making your puffy pussy lips shine and look tantalizingly supple. your swollen clit, and those gorgeous folds. somebody pinch her.

the scent of your arousal filled her nostrils, and she moaned. a deep, guttural moan from the pit of her stomach, just by smelling you. your cheeks were so warm, as you lifted your head to peek down at her. you were gonna say something, but your throat closed on you the second her lips touched your cunt.

this, this was new. ellie had her nose and mouth shoved deep into your cunt, your wetness and warmth englufing her. you expected to feel her tongue push out her lips and onto you, but no. the first thing you felt was her inhaling. her nose sniffed your pussy so deeply, you fucking heard it. you looked down, confused, seeing a half-lidded ellie groan as she inhaled your scent. you didn’t say anything, literally just watching. nobody’s ever gotten off to your scent before, like ever. but shit, it turned you on way too much.

she mumbled something incomprehensible against your pussy, then slowly, languidly, started lapping at your cunt. her tongue pushing through your dripping folds and collecting every single drop of slick you had, and fucking swallowing it. swallowing after every couple of licks. you moaned, because what the actual fuck.

how did she make this so fucking hot?

it felt so good, but it wasn’t enough to make you cum. it was too slow. your hips greedily moved and pushed against her lips, but she didn’t increase her pace one bit. she was clearly doing this for her own pleasure. too pussydrunk to care. her eyelids were so low, but you saw her staring at you the entire time she ate you out. like clockwork, her tongue dipping into your hole, drinking you up like you were liquid gold.

after hearing enough of your desperate whines for more, she slowly moved herself up, the lower half of her face was completely drenched. she kissed the soft mound of your cunt, then up your tummy, through the valley of your breasts, and finally slowly kissed your lips again. tasting yourself on her tongue made you feel brain dead.

“eat my pussy, please…”

she murmured against your lips, giving you the tiniest peck on your mouth after she spoke. since when did she get so bold? it made you embarrassingly wet.

who were you to say no to her?

you simply nodded, and gently pushed her to the side so she could lay down on her back. you immediately got between her legs, as she planted her feet on the mattress. shit, she was so eager.

she lifted her butt and chuckled quietly as you pulled off her silly boxers. once they’re off, you’re met with the most beautiful sight. her auburn bush, decorating her cunt so delicately. it made your mouth pool with saliva. her pretty, red and needy clit poking out, just begging to be touched. she was so wet. you don’t think you’ve ever seen a cunt dripping this much before. she was already clenching in and out softly, drops of arousal leaking out of her and forming a tiny droplet on your bedsheets. you could’ve came from the sight.

“how long have you been wanting this?”

you ask her quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to her clit. her hips bucked into your face, and you smiled.

“ssss—so fucking long. needed you from the start… fucked myself to you s’much…”

she just kept spilling her guts to you, just trying to get you to put your fucking mouth on her cunt. your fidgety, nervous ellie that you knew turned into a completely shameless slut for you.

“yeah? you could’ve told be earlier, els.”

you tease her lightly, and she just whines desperately. you decide not to deprive her any longer, and lick a long stripe up her soaked pussy. she groans, hands flying to your hair and gripping it. your tongue licked over her clit, making her hips jolt upwards and further into your face. you had her a mess, babbling anything through grunts.

“mmh, so good…”

“jjjust like that, fuck me…”

“i-i love you. love you s’fuckin much,”

you kept sucking on her clit, letting her hips grind against your lips to her hearts desire. your left hand went to hold hers, your fingers being gripped so tightly that you felt your knuckles pop.

your right hand went straight to her pussy, unlatching your mouth from her clit so you can gather some wetness on your fingers. she groaned, and you slowly pushed in your middle and ring finger once they were slick enough. your lips went right back to her clit, sucking and licking on it again.

you got a good two pumps into her cunt before you felt them being squeezed tightly, and her voice suddenly turning high pitched and whiny.

“oh fuck!!— m’cuh.. cumminggg…”

she said quite loudly, and before you could even register what she was saying, you felt a large spurt of liquid splash onto your face. you slowly kept pumping your fingers, taking your mouth away as she literally drenched your entire face with her very theatrical squirt.

she squirted on you after only a minute.

you blinked, slowly pulling your fingers out of her and letting her catch her breath. once she regained most of her sanity from that, the humiliation set in.

she wasn’t supposed to cum that fast.

“oh shit, i’m sorry. i didn’t think… fuck.”

she said a breathlessly, looking down at your drenched face. she was so embarrassed, cumming pathetically fast. she wasn’t even properly fingered and she already made a mess all over you and your poor bed. but honestly, you didn’t care.

“ellie. that was probably the hottest thing you could’ve done.”

you smile at her, sitting up and wiping your face a bit, licking the residue off your hand. you give her a soft kiss on the lips, getting ready to settle next to her. but ellie has a different plan in mind.

“wait, i wanna make you cum.”

she’s shy with her words, as if she wasn’t slutting herself out for you less than a minute ago. she sits up, not letting you turn down her offer. she wants to make you feel good so bad. so, you let her do her thing.

but when she situates herself between your legs once more, lifting your right leg over her shoulder and kissing your calf lightly, you speak up.”

“oh, els. you’re not too overstimulated for that?”

you protest lightly, not wanting her to push herself. she shakes her head, not wanting to back down from this. this is what she’s wanted for so long. to make love to you, in the most intimate way possible.

“let me do this for you, please.”

her voice is soft and desperate, practically begging you. how could you turn down that offer. you smile warmly at her, and she takes it as your green light. she whispers a tiny “i love you” before lowering her sopping cunt and slotting it right against yours.

euphoric. mind fucking blowing. both you and ellie gasped at the sensation. your sticky, warm pussies pushed up against each other felt so good. you let out a slightly strained moan, and ellie slowly started to move her hips in a rhythm against yours. poor baby couldn’t even focus on her overstimulated clit— she was desperate to make you cum. and it felt way too good.

“oh, right there.. so good ellie.”

you let out a string of praises to her, and she just kept moving. the sloshing noises of your cunts mashed together was mind numbing. ellie definitely wanted to cry.

the way you two made love was so intimate. she felt so connected to you, no words could describe it. she started at your face with a fucked out expression, continuing the movement of her hips.

“gon…gonna cum, els…”

you warn her, and she keeps going. her hand grips onto your leg so tightly, fucking her cunt onto yours so deliciously.

“i know baby, i know. m’close too. gonna cum with you, okay?”

she rambles, voice unstable and shaky as you both reach your breaking point. you nod and keep whining broken parts of her name, your nails digging into her forearm.

with one last thrust, you two cum basically at the same time, your cunts leaking onto each other. she keeps moving her hips slowly until the overstimulation sets in, which forces her to pull away from you, her weak body plopping right down next to yours.

both of you lay in silence for a few moments, just enjoying your post-orgasm bliss. ellie’s hand snakes back over to yours, and your fingers immediately intertwine the second they touch. she looked at you with all the love in the world. and of course, you did the same right back at her.

she was still your best friend though, so you had to push her around just a bit.

“so, you wanna tell me why you own spongebob boxers?”

ellie smiles and shoves you lightly. yeah, she was so in love with you.

Ok baiii i hope u guys liked it! :3 i can’t tell if im satisfied with it but i tried… sending love xoxo

taglist: @lil-elliesgf @a-little-bit-of-everybody 🩷

[estrellami-1]

First Cuts

Part 1 | Part 2

“Hey,” Steve says breathlessly. “Y’know that thing that we are not mentioning, ever, on pain of death?”

Eddie blinks. “Y’know you’re still mentioning it even if you don’t call it what it is, right?”

“Eddie,” Steve says seriously, which causes Eddie to focus. “I need your help. I’m kinda freaking out, here.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, running through things in his mind. “Want me to come over? Or wanna come over here? Or just over the phone?”

“I’m stressed out enough I can’t make any decisions right now,” Steve says.

“Okay,” Eddie says, “then I’m coming over. Unlock the door for me, ‘kay? I’ll be there in ten.”

“M’kay. Thank you.” With a click he’s gone, and Eddie hangs his phone back up too, looking around for his keys.

He snatches them off the counter, jams his feet into his shoes, and takes off.

He realizes halfway there that he’s still in his pajamas.

He walks in when he arrives to find Steve sitting at the table, staring at an envelope like he’s trying to disintegrate it with just his vision. Eddie thinks he can almost see the paper smoking. “Hey,” he says softly. “What’s going on?”

Steve doesn’t meet his eyes, just keeps his gaze locked on the envelope. “I did something impulsive. And Robin doesn’t know. And either nothing changes, or everything does.” He lifts his face to Eddie’s. His bottom lip is bitten raw.

“Okay,” Eddie says. “Well, first things first is to figure out which of those options it is, right? I’m assuming the letter will determine which it is.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, reaching for it, only to push it towards Eddie. “I, uh. I applied to a specific school. And I know the kids are going to tease me about it-”

“Hey,” Eddie interrupts, brows furrowed. “You’re plenty smart, Stevie, don’t listen to the little shitheads, alright? Whatever the answer is, whatever you decide to do, I’m with you. One hundred percent. I’ll even punish the little twerps during our next session if they say anything, okay?”

“Can you open it?” Steve begs, whispering, eyes wide.

Eddie’s hopeless to refuse. “Of course I can,” he replies, just as softly.

He looks at the envelope. Good, thick paper. Sticker return address. He opens it and pulls out a letter.

Dear Steven J. Harrington,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been chosen for 1988’s starting class! In Tricoci University, we pride ourselves on…

Eddie looks up at Steve with a grin. “You’re in.”

“Holy shit,” Steve breathes. “Holy shit!” He begins to grin. “I made it!”

“You made it!” Eddie celebrates, then keeps reading.

We hope you look forward to your time here at Tricoci University of Beauty Culture Bloomington.

Eddie looks up at Steve again. “A beauty school?”

Steve flushes scarlet. “Cosmetology. I wanna do hair.”

Eddie sits for a minute, thinking, before he grins at Steve and stands to sweep him into a spinning hug. “That sounds perfect for you!”

Steve giggles giddily, then grins happily at Eddie when he’s set down. “You really think so?”

“Think so? I know so! Stevie! This is gonna be so good for you!” He drags Steve over to the couch so they can both sit. “I mean, think about it. And I don’t just mean the obvious high school shit. Even the little things. You’re good with people, dude. They just like you just ‘cause you’re you. And who knows more about you than anyone else?”

Steve frowns. “Robin?”

Eddie chuckles. “My mistake. General you, not specific. Your hairdresser! You tell them everything. And you live for that shit, Stevie, I see how your eyes light up when the kids share gossip.” He grabs Steve’s hands and smiles warmly at him. “I promise, everyone’s gonna be so happy for you.”

“Thanks, Eds,” Steve murmurs, cheeks still pink.

“And hey,” Eddie says, grinning again. “You’ve got at least one lifelong customer.” He points to himself, grinning when Steve laughs.

“Thanks,” he says, then takes a deep breath, suddenly serious again. Eddie schools his face accordingly. “Will you help me tell Robin?”

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Fic Taglist: @wonderland-girl143-blog

[inkdrinkerworld]

best friends to lovers with sirius x reader PLEASEE love the touchy bsf james fics sm

I’m making this touchy bsf!sirius and shy!reader!!

Something about being close to Sirius amps up your shyness. It doesn’t help that you’re always together because your friend circles overlap.

Right now, you’re hosting early Christmas dinner for all your friends because they’re all off to their family- everyone but you and Sirius ironically, but you’re trying not to focus on that too much.

“Poppet!” Sirius’ call echos through your apartment and finds you in the kitchen where you’re taking your bread out the oven.

“In the kitchen Siri,” you say, not quite a shout but loud enough for him to hear. Your heart speeds up when you hear the click clack of his boots on your flooring.

“Happy early Christmas,” he says quietly, setting the bottles of mead, spiked eggnog (a recipe he had begged your mother to teach him many Christmases past), and sorrel.

His hands, now free, find your hips as you set the loaves on cooling racks.

“Happy early Christmas,” you echo, trying not to freak out at his proximity. It’s not unwanted and it’s been freely doled out to you for years, but you still can’t help but feel giddy and shy under his touch. Or his gaze, or well, just anything Sirius really.

“D’you need help with anything, poppet?” He asks, his cold rings running up your hip as he waits for your response.

“Can you pull the biscuits from the fridge? They’re the last thing to bake.”

Sirius nods, leaving you quickly and in the space of time it takes, all your friends come tumbling into your house.

James with the ham, Remus with turkey, Lily with a tofu dish, Marls and Dorcus with gifts.

Your house goes from quiet to lively in a matter of seconds and the boys set the table while you and the girls start drinking.

“Do you think Sirius will make a move on you?” Dorcus asks and you roll your eyes.

“We’re just friends,” you mutter, sipping your sorrel as your friends scoff. This is a conversation you’ve all had in many different ways.

You insist you’re friends and then Sirius goes on a does something not exactly too friendly.

“Dove? Can you come here a minute?” Remus calling you makes your eyebrows raise to your hairline.

“Yeah, Moony?” Sirius is already sitting in his self assigned seat- the one right beside yours- with a frown on his face. As you get closer, you notice he’s scowling and gritting his teeth.

That makes the nerves in your stomach churn a little more violently.

“Would you please tell Pads that you wouldn’t kiss him to ring in the New Year?” The girls laugh at the reasoning for Sirius’ sudden bad mood.

You frown. You hadn’t thought that was what he was gonna ask you. “Do you want to kiss me, Siri?” Sirius looks up at you instantly, eyes stormy.

“S’not about what he wants dove, do you wanna kiss him?”

You feel put on the spot and know Remus will drop it if you ask him to, but Sirius looks pensive. Like he’s on edge for your answer. Like he might combust and disintegrate if you refuse to kiss him.

Not like you would. He’s got lips that deserve to be kissed.

“Yeah I’d kiss him. Or let him kiss me, whichever way it has to go.”

Sirius perks right up, much to your friends’ delight. “We can start practicing now or when these lot leave if you like, poppet.”

[orcboxer]

In bg3 there is a fireworks shop in the lower city with a merchant behind the counter named Avery Sonshal, who is secretly working for the Absolute. If you go upstairs in the shop you find a bunch of cultists making bombs, and of course, you have to stop them. This leads to a fight that aggros every single person in the building, including Avery, and this is where you may start to notice Avery's unique...quirks.

First, there's his stats. He has rather subpar stats, except for his Constitution, which is a whopping 30, a score which is impossible to achieve for players and reserved for legendary foes such as dragons. This isn't explained, he just Has That.

The next thing you'll notice about Avery is that whenever it's his turn to move, he takes an incredibly long time just Standing There as he thinks real hard about what he's gonna do. So hard in fact, that he has about a 50% chance of suddenly crashing the game after a solid minute of Standing There

If he manages to reach a decision before reality unravels around him, Avery will make very creative choices, such as

Running outside into the street full of civilians and forgetting how to make it back inside,

Jumping over random objects and people only to run back around to where he started, or even

Throwing a fire bomb, in the fireworks shop, blowing himself up. He may do this regardless of whether anyone else in the room with him at the time.

The best workaround for this game-crashing bug is to kill Avery as quickly as possible. But that can be pretty difficult to accomplish, because when the fight starts, you are on the third floor, and Avery is on the ground floor, with 63 hit points. If you saved just before the fight started, you can reload the save and send one party member to the ground floor, and then, when things pop off, I recommend you immediately cast Disintegrate, which will reduce him to a harmless pile of ash. You don't have to use that particular spell, there are many ways to kill him in one turn, but whatever you do, Don't Let Avery Think.

[jjuniehao]

[02:39 pm]: bang chan

“come on, you need some fresh air!” you whine, squeezing chan’s cheeks when he still won’t budge, “maybe touching some grass, too. all you do is sit in this stuffy room, you probably have brain cells dying by the minute!”

chan breaks through his straight-faced demeanour and snorts at you, hands finding your waist and pulling you onto his lap, chin resting on your shoulder.

“baby, i’d love to, really. i wanna go on a real date with you so bad, but right now i just can’t spare the time, i’m sorry,” he mumbles, imagining the scowl you’re most likely wearing on your face right now, pressing a kiss behind your ear in hopes of soothing you a little.

his hopes be damned. though.

you groan, taking your boyfriend by surprise when you rise up from his lap, placing your hands on his shoulders and bending your knees to be on eye level with him.

“listen, mister. i get it, okay? i get it so hard— really, i understand, work is demanding and it’s hard to stay on top,” the serious look on your face makes him break out in a goofy smile, nodding along in hopes of maybe, perhaps receiving some praise for being such a diligent, hard worker from his favourite person…?

“but,” your tone drastically changes, furrowed eyebrows and lips pulled into a pout he’d really love to kiss instead of having you rip into him and his “capitalistic victim mindset” that “keeps him working until he eventually disintegrates with no trace left since he lived to work instead of working to live.”

pretty dramatic, but he gets your point. kinda.

“i’ve tried it all. i tried to be all caring and gentle to get you to take a break for just one night, i even brought cupcakes!”

“they were so good, ba—“

“i tried to be strict, i tried to be all smart and brought up all the health issues overworking and stress can cause,” chan looks at you sheepishly, feeling a little guilty for getting you so worried and desperate, though it also makes his heart flutter in a weird, twisted way.

“so i’m just going to be honest, and maybe a little selfish, and you’ll be the good boyfriend i know you are and agree with me, okay?” chan blinks at you, and before he can even come up with a counter, you have his cheeks cupped in your hands, determined eyes boring into his.

“i miss you. i miss spending time with you. i want my boyfriend. you always say i’m allowed to be a little selfish, so i’m cashing that in right now. i want to be selfish and i want you to go and have this cute little picnic i prepared. i even made mini sandwiches. do you know how annoying it is to cut lettuce into little squares?” chan stays quiet for a while. every second of silence makes the confidence you had built up shatter a little more, your eyes starting to nervously dart all over his face.

suddenly, you’re pulled back into his lap, face in his hands, cheeks squished, frantic kisses planted all over your face.

“wah, you’re so cute. what am i gonna do with you? how am i gonna work from now on when all i’ll be able to think about is your little speech?” he whines, pressing a kiss to your lips every few words, making you burst out in giggles he loves so much. “is that a yes?” the hopefulness in your voice makes chan melt, stealing another quick kiss from you.

“yeah but also no? i have maybe,” he reaches towards his phone laying on the desk, checking the time, “around 20 minutes. think we can make it outside, eat, and be back in that time?” chan is almost sure you’ll refuse, upset that he can’t spare you a little more time. instead, you practically shoot up from his lap, “well, then what are you waiting for?”

and with that you’re flying out the door and down the hall, chan scrambling to catch up with you, stupid lovestruck smile on his face.

part of the bucketlist boyfriends series

*i can’t link it since it messes w the tags </3

[astoryisaloveaffair]

Fix You - Chapter 16 - Genesis

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader

Fic Masterlist

Read on A03

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Chapter Summary: 🤷‍♀️

Word Count: 4K

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: cussing, graphic violence, mentions of sex. I'm not giving more warnings than that, sorry.

A/N: Hey all. First I want to say I'm sorry. I literally had no time or motivation to write this. I'm gonna be honest, this is a really tough chapter, and it was hard to get in this headspace. Suffering a recent heartbreak, things in this chapter are things I have thought also, and so it was really hard for me to voluntarily want to address that. I also started working in veterinary medicine, i do not have the spare time that I used to. We also recently adopted a puppy who we named Bucky! And if you read my earlier posts, you know that I was SA'd last January. All that to say, sorry I couldn't do this faster.

Also want to wish a happy birthday to @musings-of-a-rose, my beloved, my bestie, and my constant support. This is for you. Sorry it's not a happier chapter....

* If a character is speaking fully in Spanish, I will put “[ ]” around the dialogue. I speak pretty decent Spanish but not good enough for this

Suggested Songs: "Exile" Taylor Swift feat. Bon Iver, "I Love You" Billie Eilish, "Vampire" and "Logical" by Olivia Rodrigo, "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron and Phoebe Bridgers, "Genesis" by Grimes

You didn’t even flinch at the landing, which was rough, so that’s saying a lot. When the janky cargo door (which looked like at any time during the flight would be ripped right off) opens, you barely even lift your eyes from the floor. You felt heavy and hollow, somewhere suspended in between shock and just not giving a fuck anymore. The only thing you could still fell was the pinching in your heart. It was still broken.

At some point during the journey, the co-pilot had taken pity on you and untied your arms from behind your back and bound them in front of you instead. You hadn’t struggled. There was no point. Where would you go? Jump in the ocean? You weren’t that great of a swimmer and you loved sharks and everything but the open ocean is not where you are supposed to be.

You have no sense of space and time, so you have no actual clue where you are other than not the mainland. You’re dehydrated as fuck, groggy, your vision’s blurry and you’d figured out the sticky moisture on your face was your own blood. 

Because when you had suddenly blacked out it was because they’d hit you, and had absolutely no hesitation doing so. They did not care about you, they did not see you as a human being, they didn’t even bother strapping you into a seat so you had been sliding around the cargo bay the entire flight, bumping into everything. You were in deep danger, any hope that you would have some ransom protection had pretty much disintegrated. You had hoped that the boys wouldn’t come for you at first. Then you had hoped that they would, because if you’re ransom, even if at the very least you’d be alive until then, right? But “alive” doesn’t mean unharmed.

A shadow looms over you and it finally makes you look up, squinting to adjust your eyes to something so close, as well as the brightness of the sun. It feels like it takes you 10 whole minutes to process that you were being spoken to in English.

“Eh!” The man leaning over you snips, and when you simply blink in confusion and don’t answer, he slaps you lightly on both cheeks. You’re stunned enough to finally look at him, his oval face, beady eyes and unique sideburns seeming so familiar to you but quite frankly you wouldn’t trust yourself with recognizing even your dad at the moment, so you push that thought aside.

He kneels down in front of you. “You listen to me. We don’t want you. We want the money. This means if you don’t fucking piss me off, I might be nice and not kill you, you understand? Be a smart little girl, eh?.”

You nod, you probably should be feeling some sort of panic setting in but you don’t. Whatever. Who even cares anymore.

He takes your silence as submission. “Bueno.” He whispers, leaning down and grabbing you by the arm, lifting you until you are back on your feet. He tilts his head and steps to the side, revealing 5 additional men with AKs pointed straight at you. From behind, you feel the sharp tip of another poking your back, urging you forward and down the precarious ramp. The pilots.

You didn’t trust that they wouldn’t hurt you, but you knew you had no other choice. Trying to fight was asking for it, and once you step out of the hold and realize you were in the fucking jungle, there would be no sensical place to go even if you did get away.

You step out of the plane onto a rickety steel ramp that bounces as the footpad of your sandals touches it and shuffle slowly down it. You feel suffocated sandwiched between four men, your hands chafe where they are tied and you have been in the same positions for so long your whole body is sore. Every touch and movement hurt.

You stumble as the ramp ends but one of the men grabs your arm and yanks you so you don’t fall. It wasn’t kindness. It was a way to hurt you that he could get away with. The tiny dirt landing strip is almost canopied completely by the jungle trees, leaving large patches here and there where the plane flew through, not noticeable from far above. It looks like you’re walking to nothing, just a dirt road that ends right into the thick middle of the jungle, but you don’t stop at the edge. You push through.

It’s hot as shit and you felt sweat buildup in every crevice of your body, your thighs are rubbing raw from your asinine decision to wear short shorts to the fair, and you could feel a heat rash growing under your tits that you couldn’t even scratch because your hands are bound.

You walk for forever. You walk until the friction rash on your inner thighs turn to lesions. You haven't drank water in almost 48 hours and it feels like 150 degrees out, with full humidity. You’ve had to stop twice already to vomit from heat exhaustion and you still occasionally gag even though there’s nothing in your stomach to come up anymore. All the years that you did not appeal to insects are making up for it now, they’re all over you and you can’t walk 3 steps without one getting in your eye.  The jungle gets tighter and you can’t breathe because it’s pushing in on you almost as tight as the hands on your shoulders pushing you forward..

You start crying. At least, that is what you tell yourself as you whimper and sob as quietly as you can. You know you’re strong, but this is just beyond reason that any normal person could take. And when you think about how this is probably what life was all the time in Delta for the boys, you cry even harder because you feel guilty, that you have no right to complain.

Finally, after what feels like forever, the tightness of the jungle seems to loosen. More open. You notice some of the trees look more oddly arranged than others. As you get closer you realize they aren’t trees at all, but tents and dilapidated buildings built into the shadows of the trees.  The huge roots and overhanging canopy of the jungle transformed a bustling camp into what looks like a little village. At the entrance, a line of guards in jungle fatigues that were impossible to detect until you got right up to them. You hear someone speak above you, alerting you to a man up in the trees on a platform tucked between the branches. There was another in the tree on the opposite side. He calls to the man with the sideburns, saying something in Spanish you can’t interpret fast enough, but it’s jovial and they laugh, and it makes you feel like you’re going to go mentally insane. 

It’s like it’s not even serious to them. And it’s so serious to you.

You are pushed through the camp quickly, but not quick enough that you don’t see the insane amount of cocaine packages piled up in the makeshift buildings, sheds, and tents toward the back. Men were milling about checking them, moving them and glaring at you as you walked past.

You continue past the main camp, crossing over a bustling creek whose bridge was literally just planks of wood, but you noticed there were tire marks across them so you felt at least safe it could handle a car’s weight. Across the creek, an old stonework manor stood. You can tell at one time it must have been glorious, but the white stone-worked walls were dirty and crumbling in many places, the fountains out front had dried crusty palm fronds and dirt in them and looked like they hadn’t sprayed water since the 1980s.

It was still oddly beautiful. You thought about how this house came to be, what it might have looked like when it had been first built. A beautiful Caribbean sea mansion. A jungle that hadn’t closed in on it yet. Fountains spraying and colorful birds resting on the rooftops. But then you  realize that this place has probably always been used for what it is now. Someone like Carl Lehder probably lived here and ran an entire cartel within this very jungle. Maybe it was the same one, just run by someone else.

There was a shabbily made shack to the left of the manor with padlocks, piles of debris piled next to the door. You assume that’s where you would be taken, but you were instead led up the stairs to the manor proper. And as your eyes focus in on the ground while you were being guided to the mansion instead, you realize the heap of matter by the shack that you thought was some dying plantation was actually a crumpled human body. A boy looking not much older than 17, shot execution style in the head and left to rot.

Then smell hits you, your knees buckle and you vomit on the stonework stairs, a scream of shock and realization pierces the jungle, making the nearby tropical birds explode from the treetops. When the sicarios pick you up and carry you through the mansion door, you’re still screaming.

Eventually whoever was carrying you became fed up, and simply dropped you at the bottom of the stairs and dragged you up backwards by the armpits instead. You didn’t even feel the step edges hitting the small of your back all the way up, but you would later. 

You were tossed stricken and shivering on a disgusting, top-sheeted mattress on the floor in the corner of a room, your feet still bound together and your rope-bound hands looped through a radiator that was long enough only for you to lie down or shuffle over to a bucket for your business. Everything stank and you still had vomit on your chin so you curled up in a ball and slammed your eyes closed, hoping that in time the voices and smells and fear would give way to just simple numbness. You didn’t hear a female voice speaking to you for several seconds.

Your eyes snap open, skin pulled taut from dried unwiped tears,and you jolt upright to look in the direction of the voice. A woman who wasn’t even tied up was propped up against the adjoining wall, and as you take in her condition you could understand why they hadn’t even bothered. She wouldn’t have been able to run.

Her legs look..wrong, splaying at angles that shouldn’t be possible. They look like they could be broken, but you can’t tell for sure because she was wearing jeans that cover up most of her skin. The jeans were ripped in some places and stained with dark blood spots, the color turning brighter wherever her skin shows through the tears in the fabric. She’s missing several fingers on her left hand that had been burnt at the ends to cauterize, and her face was black and blue, swollen and smeared with more blood that seemed to be coming from her scalp somewhere. Her lips are pale and cracking and her eyes are glazed over and barely open. When she speaks, she already sounds like she is dead. 

She swallows and winces slightly in pain, then licks her cracked pale lips.“Is…my…her–my brother. Did you see him? Out there?” 

Your face scrunches in confusion, which actually hurts a little and you’re not sure from what specifically. Perhaps you look just as bad as the other girl. “Your–I—I don’t understand.”

She’s too exhausted to even be annoyed with you. “My brother. They took him from me days ago. They do not talk to me anymore. They don’t—need me anymore.” A single tear falls down her swollen cheek and you suddenly feel so much connection with this woman and how  incredibly fucking strong she is. Her eyes roll over to you, meeting yours for the first time. There are burst blood vessels in them. 

“I think that they killed him.”

Your lips part and you utter a shuddering breath as you connect the dots. There’s no point in sugar-coating it. You nod slowly. “I think so. But it’s not…recent.” You look away as her eyes slowly close, the additional tears she was holding back finally spilling over and cascading down her cheeks. 

“Bueno.” She says. “Then at least he is not suffering like me.” 

You both fall quiet and you look over her again. Her pants aren’t completely done up and her t shirt is ripped at the neckline, exposing a gashed shoulder. Almost like…

You start crying again, and you feel even worse about it this time because you have in front of you a woman who has been through much worse and is somehow NOT crying. You curl tighter into yourself to try and hide. 

But she simply asks. “Who are you?”

You swallow, raising your head up off your arms, quickly wiping the access tears off on your sleeve. It’s incredible how adrenaline and fear can sometimes make you the most clear-headed you’ve ever been. Your thoughts are swirling but you knew one thing for damn sure, if they didn’t know your name yet, you weren’t going to say it now. 

If I look forward I am lost. Focus on right now. Nothing else. It’s my best chance.

You know enough about trauma that compartmentalizing this moment is your best chance. You can’t think what will happen if you don’t escape, if you aren’t found, if they never come for you. You need to stay focused. You need to keep hope alive. You need to stay coherent, because if a chance pops up, you need to be able to think quickly.

“I’m no one.” You mumble. “Just happened to be dating the wrong person.”

She sniffs and looks away, but it’s muffled because her nose sounds congested. You don’t miss her tone though. “Mmmm. His new one then.”

You blink. “What?”

Her glazed over, discolored eyes snap back to yours. “Pope.” She spits. “Your man. Santia—”

“NO!” You cut her off with a shout, you know there is a guy who is in the area and you still don’t know how much these men do or do not know. “Don’t. Don’t give them names if they don’t already know it.”

“I don’t give a shit about Agent Garcia, or his friends, or anyone else, it’s their fault I am here and it’s their fault my brother is dead and..” She finally, finally starts to cry. “I told him I didn’t want to do it. They said they would let us go if we gave them what they wanted.”

“It was you.” You exhale with a shuddering breath. “They found us cause of you. You told them.” You shake your head, and for some reason you feel betrayed by this woman even though you’ve never met her.  “How could you?” 

“Because all I care about is my brother, do you understand?! I wish I’d never met him, Garcia, we would have just snuck away and no one would never seen us, but no, instead we listened to him and helped them steal from fucking Lorea, and now they found us and I knew they would, and YES, I gave them EVERYTHING because they said they’d let us go so long as they found you and–”

“Eh!” A voice trails in with a watchman you knew was hanging out somewhere in the hallway beyond. He slips through the doorway, a smaller man you were not expecting from that voice, and leans against the deteriorating door frame. He crosses his arms and his legs and it makes the handgun on his hip jut out prominently from his skinny hips. “No talking to each other.” His voice is silky and the words all slide together so it sounds like ‘no talkintoeeachother.’

You shrink back into the dirty wall behind you as your associate spits a bloody phlegm ball in the man’s direction. “FUCK you!” She snarls, a tirade of cuss words in Spanish flying from her lips. 

A loud pop almost bursts your eardrums and your heart and you exclaim in terror as your associate is shot point blank in the head, her back slumping against the wall and her head hitting with a bang, pieces of blood and brain tissue spraying over the back wall with pieces flying in your direction.  

The man remains completely motionless with his arms still raised before huffing a laugh to himself, putting the gun back on his hip, and looking at you with the such an unaffected gaze it leaves you feeling dizzy and you scream and scream and scream yourself hoarse, crumpling onto your mattress in a terrified heap, arms over your head, sobbing hysterically.

A gentle but firm palm wraps around your forearm, yanking you back up to a seated position. You look away, but the man’s other hand takes you gently by the jaw and makes you look at him. And just behind him, the woman slumped in a pool of blood and brain matter. You try to wriggle out of his grip but he tightens ever so slightly, and you can’t help but notice how different it is when Frankie would grab you like that versus this man. Frankie held you the same, sometimes harder, but you had trusted his domination and his care of you and because of that, it made it arousing. That same motion with this man has you more scared than you ever have been in your life. 

“Bebita.” He coos, thumb lightly caressing your jaw. He wipes at a small speck of blood you don’t know is even there. You can feel yourself shaking and breathing so fast you can see his half waxed back tousled locks that hang past his temples are blowing in its breeze. You can’t answer him. “Look at me.”

You do. His eyes are a dark, almost black chocolate brown, shape mismatched, a scruffy beard and goatee and thin lips. In another world you would find him devastatingly attractive and the fact that you do makes you feel absolutely violated and disgusted with yourself. 

“Do not cry.” He continues. “You have no reason to if you behave, si? You be good and you listen and I will keep you safe you understand? Well, at least for now.” He shifts closer to you, you can smell his breath. It smells like orange and cloves. “There are a lot of men here Bebita. I am sure you understand what this means, si? Answer me.”

“Yes.” A final fat tear spills from one of your eyes, and it stings as it mixes with your sweat and the raw skin around your eyes. 

He juts his head in the other woman’s direction. “This one, she fight the whole time. I like a easy job. Make my job easy, I make sure you always deal with me. Do not make me call in the other guys, they are not as nice. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He releases your chin and you scoot back quickly as he saunters over to the other woman’s bloody body, grabs it by the arm, and casually drags her as dismissively as possible out the door and out of your sight, leaving a bloody trail behind.

At first you just sit there in a slump staring at the opposite wall,, you don’t know for how long. Probably hours. Maybe days. The man, whose name you figured out from when he spoke to someone else in the hall, is Angel. Sometimes he would sit up and watch you, as if figuring you out, your body and the way you shift and switch positions when you are uncomfortable, what it looked like when you were crying and trying to keep quiet and unnoticed. But most of the time he ignored you. Occasionally others would come into the room and either speak to him or approach you, but upon noticing Angel watching them they would hiss or spit a curse and slink off.

The room reminded you of those old houses from the 70s that had those drafty unfinished basements that were simply concrete floors, painted stucco or white brick. To the sicarios, it served as an overflow area, there was a rotting desk along the side wall with a metal folding chair and piles of scattered papers and random household tools on them. Against the opposite side wall was a pretty nice tv, considering, which was always playing soccer. Angel seemed to make that his home base, his lithe frame sprawled across a grandma-fabric sofa, head resting on one of the puffy arm rests. He binge-smoked cigarettes and his right hand was always stretched over his head resting against his forehead in the direction of to an end table with an massive overflowing porcelain ashtray on it. You didn’t used to mind the smell of cigarettes too much but now it makes you feel sick.

You’re ashamed of how little you actually think about your current situation and like the hopeless romantic idiot you are, mostly all you can think about is Frankie. The things he said–you knew he said mean things when he was mad, or things he didn’t mean, but isn’t there always some truth to things that are said in the heat of the moment? That was enough for you to silently spiral. You thought about every memory you had of him and how it could be viewed through the lens that Frankie just wanted to fuck you. Your self confidence was low enough it was believable, and your mind races through every instance of an older man being in a relationship with someone much younger and how of course it was predatory, and how could you not see it, that you didn’t have anything in common? It’s a tale as old as time. He just wanted to fuck you, he wanted to fuck you and dominate you, his dark desires seducing you into feeling so wanted you can’t believe you thought he loved you and didn’t see right through it. 

And his friends, well, they were all in on it weren’t they, because why would they want to hang out with someone like you either? Why would men such as that actually want to be friends with you when you have never experienced half of what they have.

Fuck him. Fuck him and his lying ass, he was a fucking loser addict and you’re pissed at yourself for even considering him. Like how lonely were you?? To choose an old man with a kid who served in an institution that represented everything you hated about this country? To be so easily blinded by pretty words and love bombs to immediately take your clothes off. Because how, if he actually loved you or even like you, could he possibly have lied about something so big?! Or bought you something nice with all that fucking drug money he stole. Not that you’d want it or expected it, but why wouldn’t you want to treat someone you love as much as he claimed to? 

How could he sit there and make up what happened to Tom like that, when you were being so coddling and trying to be a caring ear. And Benny…Pope...if they were your friends they should have told you, that’s what real friends do…

But they weren’t your friends. They were never your friends. 

And if you went the other way, and considered that it was all true, that he did love you, that they were all your friends, and that he lied to you and threw stones to hurt you and push you away, how was that any better? You couldn't even think about a future not being with him, but obviously he could. He could watch you cry and question him and not even look at you, completely ignore you, then not even think about you again. No texts, no calls. No “I’m sorry, please come back.” Silence. 

How could it be so easy for him? How can he just go about his life like you never happened? Why did you still care?

Why did you still want him? 

Why did you still love him so so much. Part of you wishes they’d get on with it and just kill you. At least then you wouldn’t have to feel this excruciating pain. You wouldn’t have to see him show up to rescue you because he has to, to have to see his fucking face and every line, crinkle, scar, the bald patch in his beard and the tousled little curls that pop out of his hat…only for him to save you and then leave again, or die and then you have the guilt of killing a man who no longer loved you.

Yea. You think you’d rather die.

You feel like you’re going to throw up again. You’d let him force his cock in your mouth as far as it could go, let him tie you up and fuck you hard enough to leave bruises you had thought of as a badge of honor. You’d let him cum on your face. You’d let him fucking cum inside you! He’d gaslit you so you actually wanted him to tie you up with zip ties—-

Your heart almost stops. You can picture how his face looked exactly when he said it.

Sometimes rope can give over time.

That’s why we always used zip ties.

You look down at your bound hands.

They’re bound with rope.

[lovelykil]

You have done it now. . . *Sigh* Please write Killua and reader sharing umbrella, where reader is actually his crush (in japanese opposite genders under the umbrella, is considered a romantic gesture) Yeah. . . maybe even add reader taking Killua to her house (since it's raining too much) and even house is empty. So now we got flustered Killua who thinks if universe is on his side or just teasing him. (yeah yes I like liking in colourful way)

rain─

: ➛ killua

note; sadly I have 😔😔 I did not proofread this I was too tired

"...HUUH?!" The silverette exclaims out into the cold air, surprised and flustered at your unexpected gesture. The sounds of the tears from above hitting the black umbrella you owned rang in your ears as you tilted the handle toward him with a puzzled expression. The rain was loud but your confused face was louder.

"would you prefer to walk in the rain?" You ask, your brows scrunching together at his unusual behavior. Usually, when anyone offers help they take it but this guy..

"of course not! I just.." You observe his deep shade of blue eyes avert from your own, his cheeks reddening further as he hesitates momentarily. He stands beneath the roof of the school, firmly holding the strap to his bag slung over his shoulder.

sharing an umbrella with you? Did you even know what that meant?? Killua had the misfortune of forgetting his own umbrella at home and was going to deal the consequences on the walk back to his place but then .. by a miracle, he bumped into you.

was it really a miracle if he kept freaking out though? It was more of a tragedy for him, now his face wouldn't return to normal and his words stuck deep in his throat.

you just had show up.

"fine, whatever." killua steps forward onto the wet slippery ground, joining you beneath the umbrella. He takes the handle from your grasp swiftly to cover the both of you better since he is visibly a few inches taller than you.

It happened so quickly you blinked and suddenly your umbrella was in his care, "hey, wait—"

"you're too short to cover the both of us." He interrupts, taking a quick glance down at you. You look up at him with a frown.

"you're a bit rude, Mr Zoldyck."

"will you just walk already."

"maybe I will." The boy smiles to himself watching you huff and start forward, leading the way for him. His eyes gradually soften looking at you if only you knew how he felt and if only he wasn't such a coward to say it already.

the two of you left the school gates, bodies close and voices hushed as the rain gently fell around you like a soft, protective curtain. The world seemed to fade away, trees vanishing, buildings disintegrating, and the melody of the gentle rain slowly ceasing. All he heard was your light steps on the wet concrete and your soft breathing slipping through your sweet lips.

it was a tune others would find weird but to him, it was music to his ears.

. . .

"we're gonna get drenched if we don't hurry somewhere inside!"

"well, do you see any places near?" As the minutes went on so did the rain, the tears from the sky were now violent and harsh as the many droplets hit against your poor umbrella. Killua's loud question made you look around your surroundings. You immediately stop in your tracks and place your hand on his that held the umbrella over the both of you.

it was an innocent and accidental gesture but that didn't stop his eyes from widening and a shade of red coloring his pale cheeks. "my home! It's only a few blocks away we can stay there until the rain settles and you can go home." You point over in the direction of your haven and look over your shoulder.

"your h-house??" He blurts in his low, and familiar gruff voice but he was evidently taken aback by your suggestion not to mention your hand placement. You turn back around and snicker, removing your hand to shove him lightly in the shoulder.

"you can stay here in the rain if you want, it's my umbrella after all—"

"okay fine! Just.. hurry up!" He grumbles, his cheeks still stinging from earlier. You tug at the handle again, your hand touching his once more when you gaze over at him.

"try to keep up then!" You smile before dashing with him practically fumbling over his steps trying to keep up with your unexpected fast pace.

he could definitely outrun you but not with your skin touching his and your smile that left him speechless, this race was entirely unfair!

"hey wait idiot!" He shouts out in a firm tone but eventually once he catches up, his legs adjusting to the run a smile tugs his lips. A warm and playful one at that with the chilly air ruffling through his silver mane running with you.

in the blink of an eye, you arrived shortly at your doorstep. Your lungs tightened in desperate need of more air but you couldn't help but laugh with the silverette just making it hard for you to retain the air your body needed currently. Maybe it was the unexpected run or his endless insults during it all but you found it all so humorous as well as him. His eyes fluttered shut as he lets out strings of cute laughs. Your laughing fades slowly when you hear him, you've never heard such a cute laugh erupt from him.

he's usually quiet and reserved and mostly well, rude but now?

your eyes dilate at the sight, you feel your heart thump.

uh oh

"woah, who knew your laugh was so cute?" You muttered out, without thinking much of your actions until a few seconds later when he perked his head up.

his surprised ocean-like eyes peering into yours, he looked at you like you said something crazy. Which in a way you did? You nervously let go of the umbrella which left his hand cold as you swayed your hands in front of your face vigorously.

"I mean! Like not in that way! Or whatever you're thinking.. I didn't mean it like that.."

"uh?"

"l—let's just go inside now yeah??" You turn yourself around to unlock the door with pink cheeks and a terrible embarrassed feeling. Killua shakes the water off the umbrella as you unlock the door, his mind replaying your compliment like a broken record player.

did you really mean it?

"I don't think anyone is home so, we're alone I guess." You push through the door. You take off your shoes and rest them against the wall to step inside.

"ah, okay." Killua does the same, closing the door behind him. It takes him one step forward to realize what you said.

It was like a rock hit him on the head that made him alert again, "ALONE?" You swirl yourself around at his stunned voice about to reply when that same rock hit YOUR head.

"don't make it weird alright!"

"I'm not! Like I would want to do anything with you.." He murmurs under his breath taking your umbrella to set it on the counter and walk right past you. Your heart skips a beat when he walks past you, getting a whiff of his masculine scent. The pouring rain masked his scent, rendering it impossible to discern his true fragrance. Your head whips around swiftly from your nose having a mind of its own as you follow him.

"well what does that mean?" You hug your chest as he looks over his shoulder where he stands. He brushes off your question with a shrug, fully knowing exactly what he meant, he travels to your couch and sits upon it.

"It means exactly what I said, anyway you got anything to do here? I'm bored already." He's lying, he's actually enjoying your company in fact his stomach has tiny butterflies floating around just staring at you right now.

was he lucky enough to get so far with you? Thank god he forgot his umbrella.

you think for a moment then join him on the couch, grabbing the remote on the way. You flip the device on and look at him, "TV?"

the teen glances at you then the TV, he briefly sighs seemingly coming off as annoyed but it's quite the opposite.

"If I'm going to waste my time here then at least can we watch Attack on Titan?" You chuckle at his response, finding it amusing how a reserved person like him likes anime.

"didn't strike you as an anime person killua." You find Crunchyroll and scroll, grinning over at him. He prompts himself on the arm of the couch with his cheeks flushing at your teasing.

"I guess you just don't know me well then."

"hmm, maybe I don't. But I wanna." You softly mutter enough for him to hear. You gently place the remote on the table and smile to yourself, comfortable in the silent atmosphere with him after your comment.

killua simply hums a response, he covers his flushed cheek with his hand and eventually the growing warm smile against his skin. Would you be willing to get closer to him?

the trees briskly sway in the breeze as the rain continues to fall outside the comfort of your residence, only time will tell til the rain would cease you hoped it wouldn't happen so soon though, on the other side of the couch the silverette wished for the same.

you two comfortably watched the television sat at a reasonable distance yet so close in thoughts.

[sanguineterrain]

about a boy('s uncle) - e.m.

Summary: Eddie gives you a key. You meet Wayne by accident.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!reader

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings/tags: reader is a worrier! but all fluff <3 (stan wayne!)

this fic is part of my 'about a boy' series - check it out!

divider by firefly-graphics

Eddie's given you a key. 

It's part of your keychain. It jingles like the rest of your keys, only he's colored the top with black paint so you can tell it apart from the others. 

But you know you'll be able to tell it apart. You stare at it so often, it's impossible not to. 

For your van?

Guess again. 

Wayne's? 

Nope.

Steve's car?

Harrington wouldn't let me touch his baby if the world was ending, but thank you for the confidence, sweet thing. 

Then you'd smiled and Eddie had smiled back because he knows what you look like when you're about to tell a joke. You tell it and Eddie laughs and opens his chest so you'll have proof he really thinks you're funny. You're all about the proof. 

Key to your heart?

Eddie had kissed the top of your head for that one.

Silly, you've already got that!

The trailer. The key unlocks the trailer. 

You trust me with it?

'Course I do. 

And it's not like there's any reason not to trust you. It's just. Well. You don't quite understand the point of giving you a key. 

So you can come over. 

He'd said it like it's your home. Like you are allowed to make a home out of Eddie Munson. 

You stand on the porch step now. Hellfire had run late today, so Eddie had called from the Wheeler's to let you know. He'd started the call with Hello, sweet thing, I missed you. How are you feeling? And you'd wanted to say something like, I wait to burst into flames when I am with you but it never happens.

But you don't want to make Eddie rescind his offer of being a home for you, so you'd simply said, I am well. How are you?

And that's when he'd suggested it. Come over.

If he was any other boy (and that's the whole point, isn't it? Eddie's not any other boy), you'd immediately shut down the idea. No, I will not come over so you can touch the folds of skin where my heart lies and roll over when you are done.

But Eddie misses you, not your folds of skin. He opens his chest to you, not the other way around. 

So you're here, on his front porch. 

You've been here for about five minutes. Every time you go to unlock the front door, you stop and wait for Eddie to pull around the corner, so you can pretend you've arrived at the same time. 

You picture the key breaking when you turn it. Or disintegrating into ash. Or a storm brewing and the key electrocuting you. 

You stare at the lock, at the bits of chipped white paint around the handle. You try to look through the screen door net but it's too dark to, until it's not, because the door opens. 

You freeze. Wayne Munson stares back at you. His brow pinches, like Eddie's does when he fixes a broken guitar string or sticks a bandaid on your skinned knee. 

"Well," he says, after sizing you up for centuries. "Ain't you gonna come in?" 

"I don't want to intrude," you reply. 

Wayne grunts. "You're not some stray. You're my son's person. Come in."

You go in. 

The trailer is not new. The layout hasn't been remodeled just because you and Wayne are both in the living room, existing in the same universe. 

"You want some hot chocolate? Made a pot of it for Eddie. It's the good stuff, with milk, not just water."

How strange it is to watch uncle and son take care of people in the same way. How strange it is for you to be 'people.'

"Okay," you say. "Thank you."

Wayne pours two servings. One is in the Garfield mug Eddie delights in using when you come over. The other is in a mug with a bear holding a chain of hearts with the words Everyone Needs A Little Tender Loving Bear around it. 

Wayne gives you the Garfield mug. 

"Please," he says, and gestures to the living room. 

You slink over to the couch, and sit where Eddie kisses you while you listen to his heartbeat and remember you're both alive. 

You take a sip of the hot chocolate. Wayne makes it less sweet than Eddie does. You like it all the same. 

"I don't pour in five pounds of sugar," Wayne says. "But hopefully it ain't garbage."

"It's good. Thank you, Mr. Munson."

He sets the mug down on the little table next to the armchair. You keep yours in your lap. 

"So," he begins. "We finally meet."

Your muscles bunch up. You should've run when you had the chance. 

"Easy now," Wayne says. "I ain't mad at either of you for sneaking around."

"It wasn't out of disrespect, Mr. Munson."

Wayne cracks a smile at the very end of his mouth. 

"No, I didn't think so. I know meeting the parent is scary. You seem like good people, and you surely make Eddie happy."

"He makes me happy too," you say, because Eddie deserves far more credit for brewed happiness than you do.

"Mm. How'd you meet, if you don't mind me asking?"

You know what he's fishing for. Did you crawl through Hell together? Do you know enough to take care of him?

"We met through a friend," you say. "She and Eddie grew close during the… earthquakes."

Wayne nods. "And were you part of the earthquakes?"

"No, Mr. Munson. But I know enough. Enough to understand."

"Alright," he says. "Call me Wayne."

You sip your hot chocolate. Wayne watches you. 

You probably know more about him than he does you. You've asked Eddie not to share about you because you don't like people talking about you when you're not there. Eddie had promised not to, but he'd also told you he wouldn't say bad things. 

It had sounded like a trap, but you hadn't told Eddie that because he would've gotten quiet and gone to make you a strawberry jam sandwich as proof that he really doesn’t set traps (and you're all about the proof, aren't you?) 

But you try so hard to sheath your claws and speak to both of you kindly. To be deserving of what he is to you. You shouldn't require proof of intention every time, even though the urge boils your brain into soup. Eddie shouldn't have to open his chest just so you can see his ribs shake with laughter. 

Maybe you're not meant to be what he is to you. But, double-maybe, that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. 

You're good, after all. You wouldn't be sitting across from Wayne Munson if you weren't. You have the feeling that he has a keen sense of good and bad. 

"I care about him," you say suddenly. "More than I can fathom."

Wayne's eyes crinkle at the corners. Eddie's do the same thing. You like making them appear. 

"I believe you."

You wonder if you ought to use a stronger word than care. 

Stronger words frighten you. You've dared to say them in your head only once or twice, and afterwards, you'd checked to make sure Eddie hadn't heard you. 

I lo— and the rest is choked off. 

"Eddie told me he made you a key," Wayne says. 

"Yes. Sorry."

Wayne tilts his head. "What on earth are you sorry for?" 

Sorry for barging in. Sorry for thinking this could be my home too. 

You have plenty of reasons. 

"I don't mean to intrude."

"I invited you in, didn't I? Trust me, kid, if I didn't want to invite you in, I wouldn't have. There's plenty of people that try to get a piece of my son. Chief Hopper knows me well." 

Your eyes go wide. "I don't—"

"Mean Eddie harm," Wayne finishes, eyes gentle. "I know. He gave you a key for a reason.”

The key feels a little lighter in your pocket. 

"We talked about moving,” he says.

Your hands tighten around the mug. You picture Eddie moving away. Your heart races like you're caught in a bad dream. 

"But," Wayne continues. "I'm glad he's got a reason to stay."

"He deserves better," you say. 

"He's got it." 

Wayne meets your eye. You look down at your mug; you'd never quite learned how to take a compliment. You and Eddie are working on that. 

You sort of want to ask for proof that Eddie has better. That you are the better he's deserving of. It sounds backwards. Maybe you should open up your own chest. 

"Anyway." Wayne waves a hand. "All's this to say, you've got my blessing. And you're welcome anytime, got it?"

You nod slowly and feel for the key in your pocket. It doesn’t disintegrate. 

Wayne rises, knees creaking. 

"Refill?" he asks. 

"No, thank you."

He goes into the kitchen and pours himself another cup. 

"I've gotta go to my shift soon, but help yourself," Wayne says. “Eddie should be home… ah, there he is.”

You strain to hear Eddie's van rattling down the road, engine going put-put-put. 

You stand on instinct. Then you pause and glance at Wayne. He smiles a full smile, and it feels like you've witnessed a miracle. 

"Go 'head," he says, nodding at the door. "Say hi to your boy. It was nice to meet you."

"It was nice to meet you too, M—uh, Wayne. Thank you for the hot chocolate." 

You forget to put your mug down, so you greet Eddie at the door with your half-drunk lukewarm chocolate. He skip-scampers through the tiny patch of grass in front of the trailer and up the steps, a bright grin already on his face. 

"Well, hello there, sweet thing. You’re a sight for sore eyes."

He kisses your cheek. You move the mug aside so Eddie can wrap an arm around your waist and hold your hip. You’re acclimating to being touched. It’s nice, knowing Eddie wants to touch you and not your folds of skin.

"I could get used to this," he says. "Seeing you when I come home? I think you'll spoil me."

He peeks into your mug. You let him take it from your hand and gulp a sip. 

"Eddie," you say at the same time that his brows screw up.

"Oh my God—" Eddie cuts himself off, eyes going wide. "I mean, uh, wow! Baby, you're a chef."

You smile. "I didn't make it, Eds." 

"Then who—oh. Wayne?"

You confirm with a nod. 

Eddie grimaces. "Honey, I'm so sorry. I thought he'd have left by now, honestly. I’m really sorry you had to drink this.”

"It was good,” you say with a laugh. "He helped me with my key."

"There’s a problem with your key?" 

"No, no, it—" You crack your chest open a little, hoping it's enough. "I was feeling a little nervous."

Eddie breaks into a soft smile and pats your hip. 

"That's okay, sweetheart. 'M real proud of you for going in. Wayne looks like a drill sergeant, but he's a huge pushover."

"I heard that." 

You and Eddie scoot away from the door so Wayne can step out. He nods at you, then turns to Eddie. 

"I like this one," he says to Eddie. "’Least somebody appreciates my cooking."

"Y/N's just very polite," Eddie shoots back. "You can hardly call this abomination cooking, Wayne." 

Wayne rolls his eyes. 

"Yeah, yeah. Don’t add too much sugar. Feel free to order in."

"Oh." Eddie raises his brows at you. "Ordering in? You made quite the impression, sweet thing. Did you ooh and ah at his mug collection?" 

"Actually, we spent the whole afternoon looking at your baby pictures," Wayne says. 

Eddie pales. You giggle, unable to help yourself. Wayne winks at you. 

"You both take care. I should be back around midnight." 

You go inside as Wayne leaves, Eddie at your heels.

“So,” he says when you put down your mug. “How was it, really? I’m sorry I wasn’t here for your first meeting.”

“It was good,” you say quietly. “He really loves you, Eddie.”

It feels like there’s something missing. Like you should add something. And I do too. But the words get stuck. 

You hold the key in your hand and make a fist. The ridges dig into your palm.

“Yeah, he’s decided to keep me ‘round,” Eddie says, waving his hand. “But it went okay? I know you were nervous about it. This was not some secret plan to get you to meet. I meant to be here when you met for the first time, trust me.”

You trust him. He doesn’t need to open his chest this time.

“He said I’m welcome anytime,” you say.

Eddie nods fervently. “You are.”

“Really?”

“Wayne doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean, baby. And neither do I.”

Your fist loosens. The key’s not going anywhere.

“Then…” You take a breath. “Then I’ll stop by tomorrow. Okay?”

Eddie’s grin is brilliant. 

“I’d love nothing more, sweet thing.”

Yeah. Maybe you can make a home out of Eddie Munson. 

[hadeslegacyhephgirl]

It was 6 in the morning when Nico received the phone call from Lou Ellen.  

"Whaaaat" 

"It's Will, Nico. He's in a coma" 

The words crashed into him like a tsunami. Fear and worry made a home in his chest 

"Where are you?"  "Hospital"  "… what?"  "Ambulance go there before I could call anyone. And our chariot crashed bad, it's basically disintegrated" 

"I'm going to wake Jason and Kayla and meet you there"  "Can you get Annabeth and Cecil, too?"  "Why?"  "Annabeth 'cause I'm gonna need brains here. Cecil because- just- because"  "Fine. Where?"  "Carra Hospital, Room 304, I'll send you a picture"  "I'll be there in 10"  He hung up  

Waking everyone up was… mixed.  

All Jason and Kayla had to hear was 'Will' and they got up immediately. 

Cecil only came when he heard Lou was there. 

Annabeth insisted they take along Piper and Percy. 

So it was a party of seven that turned up in room 304. 

Cecil wrapped Lou in a hug from behind as Lou talked to Annabeth, who was holding Percy's hand. Kayla and Piper went to see if they could charmspeak a nurse to bring another IV for the nectar Kayla had brought, and Jason went along just in case there were monsters. 

Leaving Nico standing by Wills bed, staring at his wounds. 

He counted each and every nick and scratch on Will's face and arms (37) and took in the propped up, bandaged leg. 

Suddenly he couldn’t bear to be so far away from Will.   He climbed into the bed and tucked himself between Will's side and arm, nesting his head on Wills chest, closed his eyes and let the tears come 

~*~ (Will) 

It was dark 

He felt around 

There was a fuzzy silence  

He couldn't remember anything 

Except that he was a boy 

Chink 

He looked up. Something, a piece of light hung in the air. He touched it. 

"Boy"  "7 boys, two girls"  "Hey, boy-o" 

Oh. 

These were memories. 

So he had to piece himself back together. 

He could do that. 

He will do that. 

Chink 

Another shard of light, right next to the first. 

"Will"  "Hi, Will"  "Will?"  "William!" 

His name was Will 

There was solace in knowing his own name 

Chink 

This time, only one voice rang out 

"Solace"  The voice sounded annoyed, slightly raspy with a slight Italian accent.  

This time it was accompanied by a picture. 

Two dark brown eyes, so big and beautiful, yet so dark and knowing they looked like they were staring into your soul. 

The image hung in the air, away from the other chinks of light. Like the beginning of a picture. One he would figure out. 

~*~ (Nico)     

"Should we wake him up?"  "Nah, leave him. You know he can't live without his Will"  "What if he never wakes up, though?"  "He will. He has to. Besides, Nico wouldn't let him die"  "But-"  "No buts. We'll contact Hades, Hypnos, Apollo, anyone that can help. We're not losing him" 

Nico drifted in and out of sleep, not wanting to confront the waking world, but scared of the nightmares that threatened to take him. 

Finally he opened his eyes to find Jason sitting in the visitor chair. 

"Hey, Neeks."  "What time is it?"  "A little past-"  He checked his watch 

"- one in the afternoon. Listen, we're gonna get Will outta here."  "how?"  "Piper'll be here in a few minutes with the van, Kayla and Annabeth. She's gonna charmspeak him out." 

Nico looked down at Will and grabbed his hand.  "We're getting you out of here, Will. So don’t you dare go dying on me."    ~*~ 

My name is Will Solace  I am 17 years old  I am one of Apollo's children  My home is Camp Half-Blood  I'm a doctor, medic, head councilor 

I have siblings, family, friends.  And I will get out of here. 

~*~ 

"Careful!"  "We are being careful!"  "… sorry" 

They loaded Will into the back of the van 

Piper had, quite literally, worked like a charm. Within ten minutes they had Will on a transportable gurney and out the hospital. 

It was a silent drive back to camp 

~*~    He'd done it. 

The door was nearly complete. A door of light, of memory. The chinks of light had formed the rectangular shape as he'd gathered more and more information. 

All that was missing was a doornob. 

The picture was done too. 

A picture of a boy with raven black hair framing milky white skin and big brown, almost black eyes. Dressed in a leather jacket with ripped black jeans and a black shirt that read Camp Half-Blood 

But it felt wrong. 

Like there was something missing. 

The boy's name. 

He began looking though the memories of the door, each piece a word with memories attached to it. 

Then he remembered. 

There was one that only had one memory attached 

Maybe it was longer? 

Hesitantly he touched it. 

"Solace" 

Silence. He waited  "Fine." The Italians voice again. 

"There we go. See, it wasn't so hard, was it?" His own voice now.  "But just three days, you hear me?"  "Sure, unless I need to keep you longer"  "Solace, I swear-"  "C'mon, Neeks."  "Do not call me that"  "Alright Death Breath-"  "Or that"  "Zombie Lord?"  "Absolutely not. It's Nico, full stop"  "Alright, Sunshine"  "… that's okay too, I guess" 

Ding 

The picture of the boy - Nico - suddenly seemed vibrant, alive. 

And the door had a doornob. 

Hesitantly he reached for it. 

Back home. 

Back to Nico 

If there was any chance the son of Hades could love him back. 

~*~ 

It had been a week since Will had gone under the coma. 

Five days since he'd been moved to the infirmary 

Jason had given up on trying to get Nico to leave Wills bedside, except to shower every so often. 

So it was just Will and Nico and silence. 

Silence that was broken with a raspy voice coming from the bed 

"Nico?" 

Nico looked up into Wills brilliant blue eyes that were open and he was awake. 

A sob wrenched from his throat and he flung himself into Wills arms. 

"Hey, Sunshine. How long has it been?" 

Nico sniffed and buried his head into Wills shoulder. 

"A week"  "oh."  Nico sniffed again and looked up into very much open celeste blue eyes  "But your back now, right?"  "Yeah, Sunshine. I'm right here. And I always will be." 

~*~ 

[matcha-milkies]

WELL, YOU DID ASK

Summary: Aboard the Stan-O’-War II, Stan finds out and confronts Ford about his past relationship with Bill.

Alternatively: “Ford, why did Bill call you babygirl?”

Relationships: Sea Grunkles, Bill Cipher/Ford Pines (Mentioned)

Content Warnings: Implied/Referenced Sex

Tags: Humor, Light Angst, Banter

Inspired By: This Meme and This Comic

Word Count: 2,489

Link to AO3: Here

A/N: Yeah it’s been a HOT MINUTE five years since I watched Gravity Falls, and I’m still waiting on my copy of Book of Bill, so I’m sorry if there are any inconsistencies with canon in this. I was riffing hard off of secondhand material lol

Stan stares up at the top bunk as the room gently sways from side to side, a cabin cradled in the bosom of the ocean. He’s lying face up on his cot, hands on his abdomen, and he’s contemplating something very deeply. It’s unnerving, this thing. He almost wishes he could forget all about it. Almost.

He bites his bottom lip and deliberates over what to do about this. He could just leave it alone. Things have been good lately. Why rock the boat, so to speak? They could go about their day, have their coffee, cast their lines into the sea, fry that leftover kraken meat for dinner. Blegh, he’s so sick of kraken meat. He’s going to have to find a way to season that thing to spice it up a bit or else he’s gonna go crazy. Why do krakens have to be so enormous anyway?

Yeah, he could do that. He could be normal.

After all, if the answer is no, then there’s nothing to worry about in the first place. And if the answer is yes… does he really want to know about it? What is he going to do, where is he going to go from there? Ask for details? He’s racked by a fullbody shudder. As if.

But deep down, he knows he’s kidding himself. If he doesn’t confront his brother, then this is going to linger in the back of Stan’s mind for all of eternity. He won’t be able to look at his twin without pondering all the ‘why’s. Why him? Why didn’t you tell me?

Stan hauls himself to a sitting position and swings his legs over the side of his bunk. He stares at the wall for a little bit, mouth quirked to the side. The Stan-O’-War II creaks, as if it’s also pondering to itself. He can hear his brother rustling papers a ways away in the other room. It’s a small boat. Of course it is. There’s only two of them to man it.

Stan starts to walk into the other room, then turns around and changes course at the last second, heading above deck instead. Hopefully his twin was too preoccupied with his work to notice. Stan walks over to the port side and leans his arms against the railing with a sigh. It’s a nice day out, at least. The sun is shining high in the sky with only a few clouds drifting overhead. They’re somewhere off the coast of Canada.

Somewhere further south but still along the same coast are his great niece and nephew, going to school again. He wonders how they’re doing. He wishes he could call them. He misses them, but he also wants to take his mind off of this. He hears footsteps pacing below deck, probably to grab a book off a shelf or something, because they soon pace right back to where the desk would be. 

Stan lowers his head until his forehead is against the railing and sighs. He’s probably going to have to ask. The thing he’s dreading is knowing that it’s not gonna go over well. He gives it maybe another ten minutes to psyche himself up, then turns and tramps back down the stairs.

Ford is situated at his desk (it’s not anyone’s desk but really it’s Ford’s desk), sifting through some old creased pages that look like they’re about to disintegrate at the slightest breeze. On his right-hand side is a cold, half-finished cup of joe. Occasionally, he mutters something to himself and pens something in his new journal. He’s entirely absorbed. He doesn’t even seem to notice when Stan appears in the doorway and leans his elbow against it.

“Uh, hey, Sixer, how’s it goin’ in here?”

Ford starts. The pen drops from his hand and rolls around on the swaying floor. “Stanley, how many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up like that?”

“I didn’t sneak up on you. I’m notoriously loud. You’re the one with your nose glued to that journal.”

“I–” Ford’s breath catches in his throat before he lets it out in a sigh. “I suppose you have a point. I’m sorry, Stanley. I’m just frustrated at how little progress I’ve made with this. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

“You know you say that, like, every time we find some weird thing, right?”

“I didn’t think we would encounter this many paranormal phenomena outside of Gravity Falls.”

“Maybe you’re the weirdness magnet.”

“Perhaps both of us are. After all, you were the one living in my shack for all those years pretending to be me.”

“Ha, yeah…” Stan musses his own hair. “Must run in the family.”

“Anyway–” after stooping to pick up the pen, Ford seats himself at the desk again– “you know I always appreciate your company, Stan, but I’d like to make some real headway before dinner if at all possible.”

“Uh, well, actually,” Stan says, and Ford glances up with a raised brow.

“What is it? Don’t tell me you accidentally dropped something overboard,” replies Ford, testing the temperature of his coffee. He looks displeased at the result but nevertheless continues to sip it anyway.

“Relax, relax, it’s nothing like that. Sheesh, are you ever gonna let me live that down?”

“It happened yesterday.”

“Ancient history!” Eh, might as well spit it out, right? “Hey, speaking of ancient history, what was going on with you and Bill?”

Ford makes some sort of choking sound and dribbles coffee back into his cup. He casts about for a napkin or a towel. “What do you mean by that?”

“Were you like, just a fling, boyfriend-boyfriend, married? What was going on there?”

Ford sputters, gives up and rolls up his sleeve to wipe his mouth on his bare arm. His voice cracks a little as he speaks. “What- What do you- What do- Why would you–”

“Look, don’t play dumb with me, IQ. When he was in my head, he said some things. And I didn’t think much of it at the time, but see, now I got nothing but time out here on this tin can, and I…”

His twin finally manages to school himself back into neutrality, although they’re both well aware it’s too late. He’s already shown his hand. All he can do is pretend, deny, for whatever that gets him. He spares Stan a glance over his spectacles, and it seems to last an eternity, before the man finally returns his gaze to his notes. “Now is not the time to talk about this.” Oh. Okay. So not even a denial then.

“Uh, right. Sure. And when exactly is the right time gonna be?”

Ford pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs with a kind of bone-deep exhaustion. “I don’t know, Stanley, any time I’m not trying to decipher the code that we found etched onto the side of that washed up precolonial artifact last week?”

“Well, I don’t know why it needs to be a whole song and dance, Einstein, it’s a simple question.”

“Yes, we were… romantically involved. Obviously. Now please leave me in peace.” Not that he had expected that answer to buy him anything, but he still finds himself chagrined when Stan stubbornly continues his line of questioning.

“Why didn’t you tell me about that?”

“I didn’t think it pertinent.” Ford closes the book on his left-hand side, resigning himself to the unfortunate reality that this conversation is happening, and there is no walking away from it. Where would he even escape to? They’re stuck on a boat together until they land at the next port.

“You didn’t think I’d wanna know you were getting… close with the literal demon that tried to kill us?”

“He wasn’t trying to kill us when I was getting to know him. Again, this should be obvious, Stanley. I don’t know why you’re making me spell it all out for you.” He strangles the air, vibrating with more frustration than he can dissipate. “Unless it’s just to torture me, which I wouldn’t put past you.”

“What is that supposed to mean? After all the things I’ve done for you, all I’m asking for here is a little honesty.”

Ford very graciously decides not to dwell on the “all the things I’ve done for you” bit and reopen that particular wound. Instead, he doffs his glasses, the better to massage his forehead.

“Oh, for the love of… We’re in our 60s, Stan.” He unfurls his arms on the table, palms upward. “What did you want me to do, honestly? You wanted me to sit you down and tell you about my crush like we’re still in high school?”

There’s something in the sincerity of his tone that throws Stan off kilter, disarms him.

“I’m not sayin’ that! I just— You’re makin’ it sound more unreasonable than it is! I’m still your twin and I thought you trusted me with this kinda thing.”

Ford pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. He stares at a point just past Stan’s shoulder, mouth flattened into a line. “Oh, god,” he laments, as it dawns on him that the emotionally mature thing to do is to be vulnerable. He sighs, busying his hands by straightening all the papers on his desk. “It’s embarrassing. It was already embarrassing, don’t you see? And this just makes it so much worse.”

“What?” Stan pulls up a chair and sits across from his twin. “Sixer, come on. You think I came in here and brought this up just to laugh at you? I mean, don’t get me wrong, it is objectively very funny, hilarious even—” he grins in the face of Ford’s glare— “but the last thing I’m gonna do is judge you. Between you and me, I think your relationship with that freaky triangle was more stable than anything I’ve ever had with any human.”

“Stable is not the word I would use to describe anything that went on in that shack in the 1980s.”

“Yeah, that just goes to show how low the bar is. Anyway, my point is, while I’m not gonna laugh at you, I definitely will still laugh.”

The scientist raises an unamused brow. “With me, you mean?”

“No, I’m just gonna laugh. Ha! Ha-ha!” Stan reaches across the desk to nudge Ford with his elbow. “Come on, it’s funny! You had a relationship with a triangle! Oh, the kids are gonna be so traumatized!”

“Wh- D- Stan, don’t tell them!”

“Why not? Dipper worships the ground you walk on. This won’t change anything for him. And Mabel… well, Mabel will laugh too actually. Very hard.” He brings a hand to his chin and narrows his eyes. “Or worse, she’ll start shipping you.”

“What does that even mean? She’s going to ship me? Where? How?”

“Uh, not important, and for all intents and purposes, I do not know what that word means either. Look, I’m just pulling your leg, Poindexter. I won’t tell them if you don’t want me to. It’s your business.”

“You honestly mean that?”

Stan sweeps an arm through the air with finality. “It’s your own business and nobody else’s. Look, I’m—” He finds himself rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry for pushing you about this. It’s not something you’d wanna look back on, I get it.”

“Oh.” Ford doesn’t really know what to do with that so he resumes straightening papers even though they’ve been straight for the past three minutes. “I’m not used to fights ending like this.”

“Yeah, me neither. It’s weird. It’s like we emotionally matured or something.”

“Something like that,” Ford agrees.

They lapse into awkward silence. That should've been the end of it, and yet.

“I guess I just don’t get it,” Stan admits.

“What don’t you understand, Stanley?”

“He’s a— Well, he’s a little two-dimensional, don’t you think?”

“It was an extremely intellectual affair, Stan. Physicality had very little to do with it.” Well, that isn’t entirely true but his brother doesn’t need to know about any of that.

“You know what, I’d believe that. I’m just having trouble envisioning what it… what it was like.”

“Why are you trying to envision that?”

“Because it’s weird, Ford! It’s weird and morbidly fascinating. It’s like a train wreck, I can’t look away.”

“Do you have any more questions? So that I can answer them and we can be done talking about this forever?”

“So you… you never… y'know…”

“No,” Ford says about five seconds too late. There’s heat rising to his cheeks and he smothers his face with his hands as Stan sits slack-jawed in abject horror.

“What? Wait, seriously? How did that even work?”

“Ask me something else.”

“Okay. For scientific purposes, hypothetically, in a hypothetical situation, how would a human with glasses and a triangular demon go about—”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Stan!”

“God had nothin’ to do with it, I know that much.” Stan leans back in his chair, then eyes Ford suspiciously. “Wait. He didn’t possess someone else, did he?”

“No!” Ford sounds genuinely horrified. “How depraved do you think I am? That would be tantamount to— I wouldn’t do that. Do you really think so lowly of me?”

“I mean, they could’ve consented beforehand anyway, right? That’s all I’m saying. Although, Sixer, I cannot stress this enough: You locked yourself in a cabin in the middle of Nowhere, Oregon and started drawing freaky symbols on the floor and communing with a literal demon. I think I’m allowed to be a little concerned.”

“Well– Sure, when you put it like that, it sounds more occult than scientific, but I can assure you my methodology was very sound.”

“Oh, okay, good. I’m glad your methodology was sound. That was the main thing I was worried about.”

“May I return to my cipher now?”

“Your Cipher, huh?”

Ford stares pointedly at his twin, trying to telepathically communicate how exhausting this conversation is.

“I just need to know how you did it. It’s gonna keep me up at night.”

“I fail to see how that’s my issue.”

“And then I’ll keep you up at night.”

“And then I’ll throw you overboard so that you can find that notebook you lost!”

“And then I’ll haunt you from the watery grave, you know I will. Besides, it’s laughable you think you could throw me overboard, Poindexter.”

“You really want to know?”

“For my own peace of mind, please.”

Ford sighs deeply, eyes shifting from wall to wall, as though afraid someone’s eavesdropping. Maybe he’s paranoid that a mermaid is listening in from outside. He gestures for Stan to lean in closer, cups his hands to his ear and whispers for a few seconds. Stan’s expression becomes unreadable.

“Oh. Wow. Creative. Okay. Welp. That answers that.” He claps his hands together as if to dispel dirt. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to have another one of those memory-wiping guns?”

[eldritch-spouse]

Hello pinnieeee :DD, I'm currently disintegrating rn so how world the Icons deal with a sick queen? I have a stong feeling snake mommy will be the most calm (and probably most normal) about it, or she could also have a mental breakdown, who knows? 🤷‍♀️

I think you did an ask like this with the clergy sluts but I'm not sure if you did one with the big dicked/titted man/womanchildren

istg daddy-big-dick's gonna make our condition worse

[To be fair, I don't know if answered this for the Icons too, but I can't really find it, so I assume I didn't. Also, I hope you get better soon!]

Icons with a sick Queen

Vesper has to be reminded he can't quite literally fuck you out of illness. It's common sense that sharing lust with a concubus can help them survive harsh conditions, but you're only a human for now. Vesper forgets this, and tries to eat you out... Nevertheless, he may be severely misinformed, but he can drag a human doctor to Hell without trouble. They're staying in the manor until you're okay. Their payment is getting ravaged by imps. Vesper will sit next to you while you rest and possibly read for you. You have to tell him to stop anxiously bouncing his leg because it shakes the little bed you're in.

Zizz will be your personal bed. In fact, for most of the duration of your sickness, you're carried everywhere like a baby. You may have trouble sleeping because of pain/discomfort, so he'll be there to make sure you don't spend too much time agonizing awake, only to take care of basic needs. He's stressed enough to lose his own sleep balance, and it shows a little as he becomes sluggish in his work. He's calling several people, and conversing with you amidst your dreams, getting as many opinions as he can regarding your condition.

Rinx has brought ten bags of wildly different medicine types home, and he has no idea what to do. Do not let him load you with drugs. He just doesn't want you in such blatant misery, and he had to be sure he was getting the right stuff, so he got everything there was. He's curling around your laying form and worriedly asking if you're okay every single time you shift slightly. If you make him move away (probably, because demons are hot and you're likely overheated), he's going to whine about it. Rinx isn't above getting you high so you can feel better.

Kalymir is a disaster. Get up. Come on, get the fuck up, don't make that deflating balloon face at him, you look like a corpse (very flattering). He has good intentions, but he's the worst. He doesn't really like pills, so you're going to have to yell at him to get them. Don't ask- Scream. The King hates to see you so down and placid, so he'll taunt you in hopes of getting a rise out of you. A half-hearted "go fuck yourself" will suffice. Catch this fucker dumping the juiciest steak on your lap and demanding you eat. If you want a doctor (which is recommended with this hysterical fucker around), yell at Kalymir until he gives in.

Vorticia is, predictably, a touch calmer about this. Although, given humans are so frail, she's far from remotely secure in her ability to cure you. She worries that you'll perish at any moment, simply because surface-dwellers are that weak. Most of your time awake is definitely spent eating, if you can, a variety of soups and broths and every dish under the sun that's said to have healing properties. Other than that, the woman keeps you company, makes sure you're comfortable, and gives you things to entertain yourself with. She looks perfectly calm around you, but inside she's running a mile a minute. If you start losing your appetite (something possibly fatal for a glutton), she's going to really panic. Possibly drag an entire human medical team into Gluttony.

Cero is not waiting more than a day for you to overcome it on your own. If you're still sick, or worse, by day two, he's picking you up and forcing his way into a good enough hospital in the surface. He's not waiting in lines, or checking in, or bothering to present documents- He demands to see the best doctor in the premises, and if he's denied, he threatens to start impaling random people in the waiting rooms, by the minute. Everyone is sweating bullets throughout the duration of your stay, as Cero is always present to scrutinize everything each doctor and nurse does. When asked about it, he says you're overreacting about it and he's just there to be sure you won't make a scene.

Livius is, hilariously enough, in as shitty a mood as you are. He's an emotional sponge of a person, so he's going to be as uncomfortable and tired as you are. He's very worried, and less than composed about it, tearing up because humans are so weak. You're going to DIE. You're going to KEEL OVER AND DIE and he doesn't know what he's going to do- He might as well die too!! Please get this man a fucking breather or he will hyperventilate himself into a bed next to you. Your fate is almost entirely on your hands, as Livius will simply freeze and eerily wait for you to tell him what to do. He's very ominous and quiet when you're sick, it's as if his confidence vanishes in the blink of an eye, and he has this vacant look.

[tomurasghoul]

● Shigaraki x Reader fluff (G/N reader)

Sorry if there's any typos (not proofread)

Summary: Shigaraki feels overwhelmed, reader comforts him and they fall in love.

Includes: swearing (mild), angst (also mild), fluff, bit ooc

WC: 994

You were sitting at the bar, talking to Kurogiri and having a drink. Dabi and Mr. Compress were both sitting on the couch behind you, drunk and being rather loud. Shigaraki was situated next to you, scratching himself mercilessly.

You tried not to pay attention to him, maybe he was plotting the League of Villains' next scheme, which, as the leader, he often did. Although he usually doesn't get this worked up....

After a few more minutes of this, Shigaraki stormed out. 'Ugh! You people are insufferable!' Dabi and Compress didn't bat an eye at the blue-haired man's sudden outburst, but you were worried about him.

You turned to follow him, but Kurogiri was quick to stop you. 'Tomura Shigaraki likes to be left alone when upset. I am speaking from experience.' You knew Kurogiri was probably right, but you felt terrible seeing Shigaraki like this. You decided to ignore Kurogiri's warning and followed him outside.

When you stepped outside, the cold winter air swallowed you, so you reached behind the door for the nearest coat. It happened to be Compress', so it was huge on you, but no matter.

As you approached the darkness of the alleyway, you could hear Shigaraki quietly scratching and muttering to himself. 'Why can't I get a minute of peace and quiet in this place? Don't those shitheads realize how much stress I'm under?' You were unsure if you should really approach him, but you were curious to know what was going on, so you proceeded towards the alleyway.

'Go away, Compress! I'll fucking kill you if you don't leave me alone right now.'

Oh, yeah... You were wearing Compress' coat, so you must've looked like him in the darkness of the alleyway.

You walked closer to him. 'It's just me, don't worry.' You stood in front of him.

'Y-you go away too.' He stuttered, shivering from the cold.

You sat down beside him.

'I told you to leave. Are you forgetting that I'm your boss? Or that It only takes one touch for me to disintegrate you?' He tried to threaten you.

'Are you okay?' You ignored his threats. 'You seemed really upset just now.'

He turned away from you, not answering your question. You sat there for about 10 minutes, both not saying anything. After a while, you stood up. 'If you're not gonna tell me what's wrong, I might aswell leave.

And yet... you couldn't leave him out there alone.

Shigaraki stood up aswell and hugged you tightly, mindful not to touch you with all five of his fingers.

You heard him sniffle softly.

'It's okay, I'm here.' you assured him while you wrapped your arms around him.

'Please don't tell the others about this.' He pleaded. 'I usually never cry, but-'

'Shh', you shushed him. 'I won't tell anyone. I promise.'

Normally, Shigaraki would've never let someone shush him like that, but since you were being so kind to him, he let it slide. Just this once.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, still crying and shivering from the cold.

You ran your fingers through his hair.

'What do you say we go back inside and I make you a hot-chocolate? I can tell you're cold, and you might get sick if you stay out here.'

'Just wait a few minutes... I'm a mess right now.'

He wiped his tears with his sleeve and sat back down. He patted the floor next to him, signaling for you to sit there.

You obliged.

'You know, I have been wanting to tell you something for a while now, but I'm not sure if I can.'

You caressed his hand softly. 'You can tell me anything.'

He pulled his hand away.

'Don't do that. You could die.' He looked genuinely worried.

'Is the big boss getting soft on me now?' You teased, trying to lift the tension.

He wasn't having it.

'Alright, I'm sorry. I thought it could help lighten the mood.' 'Now what was it you were going to tell me?'

'Just forget I said anything.'

You were really curious to know what it was. You were certainly hoping to hear that one particular sentence, but maybe you were delusional for even thinking about it.

'Come on, spill.' You pried.

'I said forget it.'

'Is there a reason why you're scared to tell me?' You thought maybe you had done something to make him hesitant.

'I'm just afraid of how you'll react.'

'You know what? I have something to confess aswell. How about I go first?' You were really nervous. Was he gonna take it well?

'Whatever.' He said.

'So.. I've actually felt this way for a while now, and I just wanna tell you that- that I'm in love with you.'

Silence.

Shigaraki looked surprised at your confession. He didn't say anything, though. Did you just get rejected?

You sat there for what felt like hours, anticipating his response. that's when his expression changed from surprised to almost angry.

'Is this some sort of joke? Cause if it is, I don't find it funny.'

'I'm being serious. I'm crazy about you...'

Was that too cheesy? That was how you really felt, though.

It was as if he was making you wait for his response on purpose. It was dead silent between you two, the only sounds being bypassing traffic and the cold wind that blew.

Shigaraki scooted closer to you, as if you weren't close enough already.

'I guess... you're not so bad either.'

You chuckled. 'I'll take it.'

The happiness you felt was indescribable. You couldn't believe he felt the same way about you.

'I'm quite cold.' He said. 'Can we hug again... maybe?' He sounded a bit embarassed.

You removed one of your arms from Compress' coat and signaled Shigaraki to put his arm in. He happily did so.

He then put his head on your shoulder.

'This is nice.' He said while he 'discreetly' wiped away a tear.

(REQUESTS ARE OPEN)

[bunchofrandomfandomsandbands]

Favorite Quotes from Supernatural

(That literally nobody asked for, but I’m bored)

Sam:

What kind of house doesn't have salt? Low sodium FREAKS.

It's not food anymore, Dean, it's Darwinism!

I lost my shoe.

(to Gabriel) So which one are you? Grumpy, Sleepy, or Douchy?

I've been tortured by the Devil himself. So you, you're just an accent in a pantsuit. What can you do to me?

Gabriel:

You can't take the trick out of the Trickster.

[Entering a Gas 'n' Sip] Ooh, smell that cancer. Delicious!

Hello, trickster

Lucifer, you are my brother and I love you. But you are a great big bag of dicks

Castiel:

Dean and I do share a more profound bond. I wasn't going to mention it.

My 'people skills' are 'rusty'.

What part of ‘I don’t know’ escapes your understanding?

It's funnier in enochian.

This isn't funny, Dean! The voice says I'm almost out of minutes!

Hey, assbutt!

I'm an angel, you ass.

You know I can hear you both, I am a celestial being.

You have a Guinea Pig? Where?

Why is 6 afraid of 7? I assume it's because 7 is a prime number and prime numbers can be intimidating.

Let's play Twister.

I'll interrogate the cat.

You know what I like about him is that he’s sarcastic, but he’s thoughtful & appreciative too.

Dean:

Cass, get out of my ass!

PUDDINNGGG!

Well that's great, because without your power, you're basically just a baby in a trench coat.

Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray to Castiel to get his feathery ass down here.

I'm sitting in a laundry-mat, reading about myself... sitting in a laundry-mat reading about myself. My head hurts.

Driver picks the music; shotgun shuts his cakehole!

I mean come on, we hunt Monsters! Normal people - they see a monster and they run, but not us; we search out things that want to kill us. You know who does that? Crazy People! We are insane!

I'm Batman.

Saving people, hunting things, the familiy business.

Fight the fairies

Keep grinding. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how hard it gets, you got to keep grinding. And that's how we're gonna win. And we're gonna win. We're gonna save Cass, we're gonna ice the Devil, and we're gonna shank the Darkness. And anyone that gets in our way, well, God help them.

Hey. You know who wears sunglasses inside? Blind people. And douchebags.

Crowley:

Hello, boys.

As you may recall: patience isn't one of my virtues... well, I don't have any virtues... but if I did I'm sure patience wouldn't be one of them.

Torture? Brilliant. Can't wait to see Sam in stilettos and a leather bustier, really putting the S-A-M into S&M. Honestly, boys. What are you gonna do to me that I don't do to myself just for kicks every Friday night?

I torture all my friends. It's how I show love.

Chuck/God

You know what humanity's greatest creation has been? Music. That and nacho cheese. Even I couldn't have dreamt up that deliciousness.

Helped them?! I've saved them! I've rebuilt Castiel more times than I can remember. Look where that got me.

Lucifer

Sorry if it's a bit chilly. Most people think I burn hot. It's actually quite the opposite.

Think about it: dad made everything, which means he made me who I am. God wanted the Devil!

Upper bunk? Lower bunk, or do you wanna share?

Snapping necks and cashing checks is what I do.

You know what they say? He who hesitates, disintegrates.

GOOD MORNING, VIETNAM!