#haven’t done this sorta thing before

[londoneh]

‼️ Scopophobia warning ‼️

Audio from joe on YouTube, when we were kids (the last Monday demo music) :)

🌺🌸🌼🌸🌺

[mysicklove]

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋!

DAY 18: DRY ORGASM

With: Yuuta Okkotsu

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Sub! Yuuta, gn! reader, multiple orgasm, sorta mentions of cnc? idk, "breeder balls" are used in a silly goofy way, pregnancy mentioned, yuuta cums a total of six times, unrealistic portrayal of dry orgasms.

A/N: i almost named this fic breeder balls just to mess with all you guys. kinktober is driving me crazy

“It will be fun. C’mon, just trust me!” You tease, pressing kisses along Yuuta’s neck while he sighs. You sit behind him, hands resting on his stomach while you continue to pepper kisses along his neck. One of his weaker points. 

He lets out a shaky breath and then whines gently. “I don’t know…I-It sounds kinda scary.”

“Aw, scary? C’mon, my big, strong, sorcerer boyfriend isn’t afraid of anything,” You quip, teeth grazing his pale skin when you smile into his back.

 Your hands begin to roam up and down his body, and he gulps but doesn’t stop you. He does let out a noise of complaint about your choice of words though. “Yknow that isn’t true,” He mumbles out, pouting slightly. 

You pinch his nipples, and he lets out a high-pitched squeal before turning to you with a half-hearted glare. “Sorry, they are too cute.”

He sighs, slumping against your chest and closing his eyes. “You're the worst.”

“Aw, you don’t mean that. You love me.”

He glances at you before rolling his eyes and nodding softly. Yeah, he did, even with all your teasing.

“Yuutaaaaa,” You purr, getting back to the main point. “Let’s do it.”

He hums, nodding for you to continue to try to convince him. He was still unsure and slightly nervous at the thought.

“You will look so cute. Haven’t you always wanted to cum like a girl? To have every ounce of cum milked out of you,” You bite his ear, earning a whole body shiver from the boy. “Forced out of you. Till you’re shooting blanks.”

That immmediately perks him up, and he cranes his head backward to look up at you with a sheepish grin. He already feels himself growing hard. 

“F-Forced?”

You grin.

“No more! No more! Please!” He screeches, tears and drool coating his face and falling onto the sheets below him. He was heaving, and he feels like every inch of his body was covered in cum. His thighs and stomach were so sticky, and he was unbelievably sweaty.

Shaky legs try to crawl forward, away from your tortuous hands, but he ultimately fails. You use one arm to grab him by the waist and pull him back. “Where do you think you are going?”

He lets out a pathetic “Noooo!” as his fingers drag along the sheets back toward you. His thighs shake as he tries to hold his body up, and he buries his face into a pillow. 

You hum to yourself, sitting cross-legged and fully clothed, contrasting your lover’s naked body. His knees straddle your legs, giving you a perfect sight of his ass and easier access to pull him back whenever he tries to crawl away.

His thighs, stomach, balls, and even your hand were coated with his cum, and is beginning to dry up from how long its been. But nevertheless, your hands continue to work at his cock, pulling it slightly downward so that it hangs between his open legs. 

Yuuta lets out a choking noise, a mix between a gargle and a yelp, and suddenly he is cumming again. He doesn’t say anything as his orgasm comes crashing upon him again, but you weren’t surprised – he went borderline nonverbal after the third one. 

His chest rises and falls with his rapid breathing, and you watch his whole body tense up. His tears stain the pillow, and his mouth hangs open in a silent scream. The only thing that showed that he was in pleasure was the way his nails dug into the sheets as if he wanted to tear them apart from how intense the sensation was.

You frown through it all, and watch two globs of cum slide down your finger. His legs give out, and he begins to slump on the bed, but you are quick to grab him and hold his waist up with your arm. “Am I–Did I? Are we d-done?” He stutters, his voice raw from his previous screams and cries. You hear him sniffle and watch the way a shaky arm rubs at his nose.

You lightly slap his thigh. “Nope. Almost there, Yuuta! The next one will definitely be dry. Think I got the last couple of drops,” You say, pointing to his cum staining your hand. 

He looks up at you with wide, fearful eyes and starts squirming in your hold. “No! I can’t go anymore. A-And you said that the last couple of times!” He screeches, legs kicking out like a toddler throwing a tantrum, trying desperately to run away from your hold.

Your hands remain on his waist, and you move your body aside so that he doesn’t accidentally kick you with his frantic, panicked movements. His dick was raw at this point, and every muscle was trembling. He couldn’t go again – he was exhausted, completely pushed to his limits.

“Hey, hey, hey. Relax. This time I'm really sure! How many times have you ejaculated?” 

He pauses for a moment, gulping as he thinks back to the previous events. “I think after that…Five times?”

You giggle at him, and the sound makes him tense up. Whenever he is put in these positions, and you laugh, it never is a good sign for him. “Woah, Yuuta, you really have a lot of cum stored up. I’ve heard that most men go dry after their third one…Don’t tell me your pent up?” You babble, passing time to hopefully let his body rest for a moment. Overstimulating him would probably kill the dark-haired boy. 

He sniffles again, and then furrows his eyes and turns back toward you. “Im not, though. Came two days ago, remember?”

You think back to the night and chuckle fondly. “Yeah, I guess your right. Guess my lovely boyfriend just has breeder balls.” You laugh at yourself from the ridiculous word.

His mouth hangs open at your crude words, and he turns a bright shade of pink. Immediately, he tries to scramble out of your hold again, but you just laugh at his flustered noises. “Why would you say something like that? So embarrassing…And no, I don’t,” Your boyfriend complains, shaking his head back and forth to execute his point.

You hum to yourself, content that he has finally calmed down again, at least enough to put up and actively respond to your teasing words. 

“Bet you could get any girl pregnant,” You continue to coax, mind drifting off from your words to return to your original motive. You begin to situate yourself again, hands moving back to the task at hand. 

“Stop it, please! It’s so,” He groans into the pillow, unaware that you have begun to stand up. “I don’t know! Just sto–” Suddenly, his head is being forced into the pillow, and your hand is back onto his cock. Your movements are rough and fast, and his whole body seems to short-circuit.

Yuutas eyes widen as he feels the back of your hand pin his head into the pillow, and he feels your hands wrap around his dick again. He doesn’t even have time to react, except for a surprised yelp. By the time his brain catches up to the sensation, you have already palmed him four times now, and he is so sensitive. “W-Wait!” He begs, tears resurfacing. 

The sound of your hand wrapping around his red cock is lewd. Loud squelching sounds fill the room, and he knows that the wetness is from his previous cum. It makes your head spin, and Yuuta wants to die from embarrassment. 

Your hand finally lets go of his neck, and he pulls away immediately, gasping out for air. His back arches, and he begins his clawing at the bedsheets again. “F-Fuck,” Your lover whimpers, tears free streaming again. 

His cock feels raw by now. Five orgasms in a row was an insane amount to him. The farthest he had gone before this was three, before he was forced to call it quits, or else risking him passing out. Right now, his mind seemed to be melting from the harsh feeling. 

You have to support his body still by hoisting his hips upward. His forehead touches the sheets, and his bangs cover his face as he looks downward. It was almost disappointing that you couldn’t see his pretty expressions, but from what you could see by his sporadic movements, Yuuta was crumbling. 

It hurt. Your hands were too rough. The pace was too intense. He can’t think anymore. His mouth hangs open, and his tongue threatens to loll out. All he can hear is your hands and his cum, and honestly, although he hates to admit it, it was spurring him closer to his orgasm.

Just one more. He can do that. He can cum one more time. Everything in him pleads for it to be dry, because he may seriously die if he has to go a seventh round. 

So, with everything in him, he begins to grind into your hand, trying to coax his orgasm to come quicker. He lets out a silent scream, and he furrows his eyes shut but doesn’t stop fucking back into your hand. 

You watch with amusement at the trembling boy’s movements. He was trying his best, and it was honestly quite cute. Just for him, you pick up the pace of your hand movements. 

The reaction to it is immediate – the muscular body curls over on itself as he heaves. You bring him closer to you, now using both hands to jack him off, hoping he doesn’t collapse just for a couple more seconds.

Yuuta’s eyes roll back, and he can faintly hear your encouragements. “C’mon, love. Just one more. Cum for me one more time.” 

He bites onto the pillow and nods his head, unable to give you a reply. He can feel his orgasm approaching, and frankly, it scared him. It was going to be a strong one, he could tell, and he was unsure if his body was able to take it. He was already shaking at this point, could his muscles really constrict one more time? He could barely hold himself up.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, because his orgasm hits him out of the blue. For the first time since his second orgasm, Yuuta screams into the pillow. His thighs come squeezing together, and his fingers dig into anything they can grab. Tears continue to rush down his face, and he tries his best to breathe.

His knees come forward, and accidentally, he raises his hips higher into the air, creating a pretty arch in his back. You watch, mesmerized by the show, and then glance at his cock.

Not a single drop of cum is let out. You grin, and rub his thighs, coaxing him through it all, proud of him.

He slumps against the bed and this time you let him. Then, he very slowly turns to you, eyes cloudy. “I–I?” He tries, brain not catching up with him.

“Yep, good job. Came dry. I’m so proud of you.”

He gives you a lazy, but satisfied grin, nodding slightly. You crawl over to him, sitting down next to his head. He places his near-limp hand on your knee, and you hold onto it. “Guess…Guess I–No breeder balls for me,” He mumbles in full seriousness, as if he is proud of the fact.

You have to cover your mouth to refrain from laughing too loud. You place your head over his eyes, shutting them for him. “Guess not. Sleep, Yuuta.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” He falls asleep not even a minute later. You don’t blame him.

PREV POST | MASTERLIST | NEXT POST

[hungharrington]

okay what are ur thoughts on challenging steve to edge himself everyday for no nut november 🫣 do you think he would make it through the entire month????

okay this turned into a whole rambling thought fic ??? a whole 3k of it?? this is hella unedited cos i'm running out the door so i'll be back to check for mistakes but enjoy some sub!steve & some sorta mean!reader, definitely a hint of a humiliation & exhibitionism kink so beware if that isn't your thing! enjoy u horny bastards MDNI this entire blog is 18+

the whole thing comes about because of a playful bicker.

it’s starts with talking about how long you’ve gone without sex— with steve insisting his dry spell before you two started fooling around was way longer and more difficult than yours.

and you had laughed and teased, cooing about how he could absolutely not make it through an entire week without cumming like you did for a whole month— while he insists the opposite is true.

and steve is nothing if not a competitive bastard who loves to try prove people wrong. so you challenge him to last the whole month — no cumming, no nothing.

but you don’t say no touching. and steve, poor, oblivious to the consequences he’s going to feel very soon, figures there’s no harm in giving in to his morning wood, rutting against his sheets with these quiet grunts until he gets bored and rolls out of bed. it’s something he’s done before and his hard-on goes down in the shower like usual & he goes to work far too smug, feeling so confident and ready to brag when he sees you.

you come into family video middle of the day and steve delights, ready to demolish the challenge you’ve set, bragging about his easy morning and his killer restraint.

your eyebrows raise and you look pleasantly surprised — not miffed, like steve hoped you would — and you offer to raise the stakes. leaning over one of the shelves as he works idly, you change the rules a bit… and set a prize if he’s to complete your challenge.

“if you go the whole month, no cumming, i’ll let you fuck me,” you hum, a wicked smile on your mouth at the way steve straightens up. you’ve been fooling around, tucking your hands into each others pants like horny teenagers but you haven’t actually slept together yet. “anywhere you want, any way you want,”

and steve is smarter than he looks, even as you can see this lust glazing over his eyes— options, so many options pour into his mind.

you in his car, in his lap, riding him and making those nice pitiful noises you do. you in his bed, beneath him, head thrown back in his sheets as you cry out. you, against the wall behind the family video, hidden away but only just, moaning into his hand as you try to keep quiet while you fall apart on his cock.

his cock begins to thicken in his pants just at the thought & steve shifts his weight.

“what’s the catch?” he asks.

“to make your challenge more difficult, you have to touch yourself every day of the month.”

“touch myself?”

“mhm,” you nod, eyes darting down to his bulge. your wicked grin grows at the sight of it growing in his jeans. “properly. not just a little touch, a proper jerk off. how long’s it take you to get hot and bothered? let’s say 5 minutes of stroking, each and every day.”

you’ve got this look in your face like you don’t think he can do it — so of course, steve takes the bait.

“easy.” he snips back, eyes narrowing. “hope you’ll spend the month getting prepared to take it. after a whole month of nothing? can’t promise i’ll be too gentle.”

your smile turns almost feline.

and so it begins. the first few days sail by, steve easily using his mornings in bed to stroke his cock idly, feeling his desire swell and then letting it swirl down the drain in a shower that gets colder every day. after the fifth day, steve has to admit it’s not nice — he can feel his mounting urge to cum building up but it’s not terrible. it’s certainly ignorable. he’s got this in the bag.

another five days pass— but now, he’s waking up aching hard. it takes longer now in the shower to get his hard-on to flag and worse when steve realises he has to still jerk off to win your challenge. his hand feels so much softer than usual and his keyed up lust springs to the surface to moment he starts to stroke himself— steve groans lowly, pressing his head against the tiles and tries go think of unpleasant things.

he fucks up on day 13.

his alarm goes off late and his dream had been lewd and vulgar, an endless loop of sinking his fat cock into you and envisioning how wet and warm you’d be around him. his cock is throbbing when he drags himself out of sleep and he realises he’s been humping against the mattress in his sleep.

the cold shower helps, barely. shivering beneath the icy spray, steve stares at his thickened cock and groans— knowing if he wraps his hand around it now and fucks his fist, he’ll cum in a minute.

so he leaves it and goes to work, wound up enough to snap at robin and then apologise 20 minutes later. you come into his work again, having been absent for the last couple of days, and it’s like you can smell it on him.

“hard morning?” you smirk at him.

“fuck off,” he growls, shoving a vcr back onto one of the shelves. then he looks back at you. “i’m still winning your stupid challenge by the way.”

“uh huh,” you say, not believing him at all. “how’s it’s been going? fucking your cock but never getting finish?”

even your words have an effect on him. steve feels his body flush, his dick strain in his pants, his gut churning with heat. he stiffens up and scrambles to think of a reply — but you’re already laughing.

“oh man, we’re not even halfway through the month and i think you could blow in your pants right here.” you muse teasingly. steve grips the shelf tighter and shakes over the fluster you have on him.

“i have more self restraint than that,” he snips back. the flush passes and he resumes his task, flashing you a quick glare.

you nod and hum again, like you don’t believe a thing he’s a saying, and then he’s watching you head out the door again.

the moment steve realises he’s fucked up is when he’s getting into bed. his cock is, thankfully, not hard — even if there is this persistent tug from his balls that never seems to leave. but he hasn’t stroked himself at all today.

painstakingly, he begins to — soft, gentle strokes over his cock, hoping, praying he can get five minutes in without working himself up too bad. it’s futile because it only takes about twenty seconds behind his cock is twitching in his hand, growing heavier, the head of it beginning to dribble pre-cum and steve moans in anguish into his pillow.

he stares at his alarm clock and strokes slowly, so slowly, having to stop every couple of seconds until finally five minutes passes. steve sighs and releases his cock which twitches in response, the head giving a sad spurt of pre-cum. he’s so keyed up he can’t possibly sleep. his cock is so hard it’s throbbing.

as he pulls his boxers up and buries himself under the duvet, but every touch is too stimulating, his skin on fire with how the urge to cum itches beneath it. he ends up having a very cold shoulder at 3am and his cock never fully softens.

it’s brutal from there on out. from day 14 onwards, his cock remains in this permanent state of aching, always half thickened and ready to go the moment it gets some stimulation. which turns out, is far easier to get now— jeans on the tighter side, the right seat, even the rumble of his car beneath him are enough to have steve swearing and pushing at his crotch, willing it to go down.

that’s how you find him on day 20, five minutes late for his shift because he’s staring down at his tented jeans and trying to think of anything to make it go away. your tap on his window makes him startle, seizing in his seat before he realises it’s probably the only person who’s expecting to see him with a boner in public.

“hard morning?” you joke again, this time pointing at his obvious bulge.

steve glares at you. “you already made that joke.”

“and you didn’t appreciate it the first time!” you say back cheerily. you round the front of his car and open the door, plopping yourself in the passenger seat like you own it.

“what are you doing?” steve asks, going to cross his arms but feeling terribly exposed. he settles for covering his groin, muscles twitching at the slight stimulation the weight of his hands does. his hips twitch forward.

“i’ve got a proposition for you,” you say.

steve shakes his head instantly. “nope, no way.”

you laugh at his quick insistence. “wait listen! i think you will want to consider it, okay?”

you pause and when steve doesn’t say anything more, just eyes you warily, you continue.

“i will knock off five whole days off your challenge,” you hold up your hand, fingers splayed out to indicate the number. your mischievous eyes make steve worry. even if five days off makes his challenge that much easier.

“if you do your five minutes today right now.”

steve blinks. his chest flushes hot at your proposal as it sinks in— here, in the parking lot in front of his work, you want him to jerk off for five whole minutes?

“what? right here?” the question bursts out of him.

it’s not busy out in the least. even in the store, steve hasn’t even seen keith walking about or any customers milling around. he knows keith won’t come outside to fetch him and he’s the only car in the parking lot, besides one another that parked down the other end.

“five minutes for five days off,” you say, twiddling your fingers with a wicked smile.

steve considers it, even though he can already feel his cock growing harder beneath his hands. he groans and throws his head back against the headrest. was he really about to do this?

he looks at the time and then starts to undo the button of his jeans. fuck, guess he was.

he steals a glance at you as he pulls down his zipper and tugs his jeans down a couple inches to expose his boxers. the mischief from your smile has faded, a hunger taking its place. steve averts his eyes, far too aware of how his cock twitches in his boxer at your attention.

he slips a hand into his boxers and curls it around his hard cock. a keening noise pulls from his throat and steve blushes scarlet— all his little noises as he’s spiraled into this lustful denial haven’t had an audience until right now.

he shifts his hand up, a slow stroke, but you’re quickly reaching out to grab his wrist, halting to movement. steve opens his eyes, not sure when they had closed, and makes a noise of confusion.

you grin deviously. “wait,” you point to the clock on the dash. “you can go when the minute changes, big boy.”

steve’s hips jump forward at your words, both the name and your denial. he groans before he can help it, his eyes trained intently on the dash. in his hand, his cock leaks pitifully, a wet spot beginning to stain through his boxers.

humiliatingly, you notice it too. “aw, you’re making a mess and you haven’t even started.”

“stop,” steve murmurs, aiming for stern but failing pathetically. the word comes out as a whine. his cheeks glow fiery hot.

you laugh and then tap his wrist— the minute having flicked over just a second ago.

steve starts his stroking, slow and easy, his eyes slipping closed. five minutes, he can do five minutes of jerking off. even if he was suddenly keenly aware of your watchful gaze, of the window beside him, of the pure exposure of the situation.

“that’s not jerking,” you huff disapprovingly. steve’s eyes crinkle open, his mouth already hung open as he pants softly. his hand does another pass over his cock and he smothers a moan into the palm of his hand.

“go faster or it won’t count.” you say wickedly and steve whimpers, his hand obeying without thought. with the way he’s leaking all over himself, it only takes a couple long strokes before he’s making lewd, wet noises as he fucks into his hand.

it shouldn’t be as hot as it is — rubbing his own cock while you watch, eyes darting between his moving hand and his flushed face. steve can hear himself making little noises with every exhale, tiny little whines as he burns up. the coil in his tummy tightens unexpectedly.

“f-fuck-!” he stops his hand completely, gripping the steering wheel with the other as he feels his orgasm swell. it grows closer, so near to tipping over that steve can’t control his hips as they keep moving, rutting into the air frantically, into nothing, as they try to get him over the edge.

it takes another thirty seconds for his breath to catch and steve to settle down enough to not cum immediately. he quivers in his seat. his eyes flutter open to look at you.

“that was really cute,” you muse, eyes almost feline, dragging up and down his body, slow as trickling honey. steve feels his cock twitch at your words, flushing hotly when your eyes dart to his boxers and definitely notice.

“not five minutes though,” you say with teasing tilt in your voice. you point to the clock on the dash. “i think that was… 1 whole minute?”

despite how he tries to stop it, steve can’t help the pathetic noise he makes in response. he wants to be able to finish this stupid fucking challenge you’ve set, wants to prove himself, wants to be good.

he starts moving his hand again before he can consider how bad of an idea it is. he should just say no and do the next ten days. but it’s wet and warm in his hand, the tip of his cock so drippy that he can pretend his hand is yours. you seem pleasantly surprised to see him going again so soon, your lids low as you watch him closely.

“are you normally this loud?”

steve knows you mean the slick noises coming from the way he’s fucking into his hand. he tries to huff but it comes out as a quiet moan and his face flushes hotter again.

he shakes his head instead, his hair scraping against the headrest. god, his neck is burning up. he’s pretty sure he’s never been harder in his life — but fuck, he can’t stop now.

“how- how ma- many minutes?” the words strain to get out, wrapped in his arousal. his nipples peak hard in his shirt, the friction only adding to his pleasure.

at some point, his hand stopped moving all together and his hips started doing all the work. steve presses against the drivers seat, hips lifting off and bucking into his hand and— shit, it’s too much, the sticky boxers are gonna make him cum if he rubs against them one more time.

in haste, he shoves them down his thighs, exposing his cock to you and anyone who deigns to take a peek in his window. something churns in his gut and steve screws his eyes up, willing himself not to cum yet. so close, he’s so close.

“just one more,” you say, suddenly sounding more breathy than before. steve’s eyes snap open, darting over to look at your face — but you’re fixated on his crotch, watching with a hungry expression.

your eyes lift to his face. another devious smile. steve whines. so close, he’s so fucking close, so close he can taste it. he can win, he can do it.

“steve,” you say softly, reaching out to nudge his chin in your direction. he wasn’t aware of when his eyes slipped shut again but your staring him in the face all lovingly, all wickedly and steve wills his orgasm down. another minute, another fucking minute, he can wait, he’s so close he’s— “cum,” you command.

steve does. white hot flashes through his body as he tips over the edge, ecstasy washing over every sense, stronger than he's ever felt before. his cock kicks up in his hand and a whorish moan drags out of his throat as he paints the steering wheel with ropes of cum.

for a minute, steve doesn't give a fuck if he's just lost— he just cares about how fucking good it feels to fuck his fist, to feel every pass over his slit all the way through his body. he whines and whimpers as the feeling tapers off, his hips finally settling down into the seat.

the mortification of what he's done begins to set it, like the drizzles of cum drying on his steering wheel. he can't stop panting, can't think of single word to say, his lips opening and closing as he tries to recover from the best orgasm of his life.

he hears the car door open and it shoots him into gear, stuffing himself back into his sticky boxers, a shiver going down his spine at how unpleasant it feels. oh fuck, and he's got a whole shift ahead of him.

you're still hovering, one hand on the open car door, leaned down and watching him frantically try to recover— all with that damned wicked smile on your face.

you rap your knuckles on the roof of the car. "damn. better luck next month, right harrington?"

you don't sound sorry at all. steve watches you close the door and leave, weaving between the stores and out of sight as his cock softens and his boxers grow colder. he screws his eyes up and smacks his head back against the headrest.

he's so fucking screwed.

[cotton-fae24]

Hello everybody! Surprised to see me post something not Seabird related? Well sometimes drawing the same things over and over again gets a little tiring, so to clear my head (and to remind myself to draw legs once in while) I’d tried to draw other owl house stuff. During this break times I’d actually end up drawing other owl house creators Au’s, and I decided to clean up these drawings together and compile them into one big illustration. Think of this post as a sorta tribute to creators that inspire me. And don’t worry, Seabird part 3 will still come out Monday.

First up, the Monster high AU by @dazeddoodles

As the title suggests, it’s an AU that combines the G1 Monster high with the Owl house series. I was a huge Monster High fan when I was younger, so this AU was a real treat. I’m really sad they decided to discontinue it, as I think this AU is really cute. I love the designs too, Raine is my favorite. I kinda just wanted to draw some cute interactions, a young Eda and Raine interacting, Gus and Willow giving Hunter “a hand’ and Amity flirting with Luz (in her own way). Drawing this AU was a lot of fun and did inspire me to rewatch some of the old Monster high specials.

Pittwins AU by @nikolutke

This AU is much darker. The idea of the story is what if Hunter and Luz weren’t resurrected at the end of the series and wandered around the Boiling Isles as ghosts. I love Nikolutke designs for Ghost Luz and Hunter, they’re both haunting and really sad. Plus the idea exploring the Owl house characters reactions towards the death of a love one is really fascinating concept. I kinda explored that idea with these drawings, in this case Eda and Darius reactions. I feel like Eda would be out of her mind with grief, as she was forced to watch Luz’s death first hand. I think she’d feel a lot of guilt too, thinking she failed to protect Luz. I also wonder if Kings Titans powers allows him to see the dead, could be possible. As for the other illustration, I think Darius would probably isolated himself and grieve quietly, contemplating what he could of done differently, and if he could have saved Hunter in time.

The Gilded Cage by @catboymoments

I’ve been fan of both their next gen au and this one, but I decided to post one about the Gilded age au. The basic idea of this AU is the classic “What if Belos found Luz instead of Eda” concept. A lot of these AUs tend to go the route of “Luz becomes Belos 2.0” as someone who loves Luz, I’m sad people just think she’d just instantly become a villain if left unguided. I’m really that this AU went into a different direction and actual kept Luz’s personality and made Luz someone who’s trying to help the Isles and wants to protect her friends from Belos wrath. The one on the left is Lilith and Luz interacting, I like to think Lilith sees a lot of Eda in Luz, and makes her think of the good times before everything got complicated. The one on the right is Luz and Hunter, with the former trying to convince the latter to question Belos control. I love in this AU that despite Belos attempts to put the, against each other, they still have each others back no matter what! Their siblings no matter what universe they’re in!

And of course the classic (pun intended) The Mythology AU by @turquoisespace35

This AU is Huntlow story set in Greek mythology. Hunter in this AU is the half human-gorgon offspring of the human Caleb and gorgon Evelyn. Willow is sent to his location to kill him but (of course) they fall in love instead. The story has a lot of twists and turns, so I suggest you check it out if you haven’t already. The left drawing is Caleb and Evelyn interacting together. I don’t know if this work but I like to think the two were able to somewhat interact with each other by Caleb looking through mirror. I of course had to draw the love birds Hunter and Willow interacting together. The one on the top right is a little bit of a spoiler but I decided to draw Lilith and Edalyns in their goddess forms, I love that Lilith plays the role of Athena and acts a caretaker to Hunter. I drew her getting a little emotional about Hunter finally being free, as any cool Aunt should.

And to those who are just hear to see the Seabird AU, here’s a preview drawing of part 3 of chapter 10. I don’t think Edas really enjoying this part though lol.

Anyway, hope you guys this more unusual post, I just wanted to draw something a little different this time and pay tribute to some of the artists that have inspired me.

Edit: Chapter 10 part 3 of the Little Seabird is out now. In case you’re interested in seeing my work, I’ve left a link:

Chapter 10, part 3:

And if you want to read from the beginning, here’s a link to the first page:

Beginning:

[meteor752]

Epic the musical side story where Hades and Persephone get really invested in the story during The underworld saga, sorta small talk about the strange man for the next couple of years, and then freak the fuck out in the audience during god games when they find out not only is the guy still alive, he’s managed to piss off like half the pantheon

Just

“Hey babe?”

“Yeah Perse?”

“There’s like, a bunch of mortals here”

“Mortals? What, how?”

“Idk, they’re like, on some ship”

“Huh. Should I call Thanatos, have him take care of it, or should we just wait it out”

“Call Thanatos, best to rid the garden of any pests before they manage to kill your flowers”

“Pfft, alright. I’ll be right back”

“Okay- wait. A bunch of the dead are singing to him”

“What?”

“Yeah like a bunch. Who are they?”

“Uhh, most of them drowned, a few killed by a cyclops. One broke his neck?”

“They’re singing about a cyclops, about how he let one live or something”

“Probably one of Poseidons. Should I still call Thanatos?”

“No wait, I wanna see where this goes.”

“Alright.”

“An infant, what infant?”

“Maybe the cyclops?”

“OH NEW GUY! He seems important!”

“Also a cyclops victim. They seem close, what do you think friend or lover?”

“They’re Greek, it’s probably both”

“I don’t know how he managed it, but this guy brought down like, the entire vibe of the entire underworld. That shouldn’t be possible”

“Yeah. Oh who’s this lady now?”

“Suicide by drowning. Not sure. Maybe a relative”

“Yeah may-THATS HIS MOM”

“OH MY GODS. OH HE DIDNT KNOW OH LORD”

“Hooooooly fuck, what a way to find out”

““Here in the underworld the past is always close behind”. Think we should make that a slogan?”

“Then we’d have to credit him and stuff tho”

“Yeahhhh. Well, seems like this guy is sticking around for a few hours. Should I grab some popcorn?”

“Yeah I’ll grab the fainting couches”

~~~

“Okay what’s happening now?”

“He just stated speaking to Tiresias”

“Tiresias? He went all the way to the underworld to speak with a prophet?”

“Well he is quite good”

“Wait did Tiresias just reject him?”

“I think so? Oh wait predictions”

“Past romance, sacrifice, betrayal, and some final battle? Who the fuck is this guy?”

“Dunno, but he’s not going home that’s for sure”

“Palace? He must be a king of some kind then”

“Do we know the names of any mortal kings”

“Nope, so that didn’t help at-wait his wife is doing what”

“Ohhh, that must be rough, hearing it from a prophet”

“Okay this chanting is getting intense. I think I heard the word Scylla”

“I heard lightning bolt”

“That doesn’t bode well”

~~~

“He’s just, sitting there”

“Is he done? Should we-oh. No okay new song, let’s see what’s going on”

“Man this guy has it rough. Should we like, do something?”

“I mean, I’m not really the “bless the mortals” type of god. I mean I let a guy borrow my helm once, and I haven’t seen it since. I should probably check up on that actually”

“Yeahhh. They killed a friend of the cyclops?”

“That explains all the cyclops victims”

““Witch turn men to pigs”, you think that’s Circe?”

“Sounds like he-WHAT WAS THAT THIRD ONE”

“You don’t think-?”

““God comes down and makes a fleet drown”, I am most definitely sure!”

“Damn. Wait wooden horse? Oh, I know who this guy is!”

“Really?”

“Yeah he’s one of Athenas warriors! Ody something. Odyssen? Odyssa? Whatever, I remember the horse thing was a big deal when it happened, Ares was pissed, Hermes spread the word to all of mount Olympus”

“One of Athenas eh? Interesting. Oh yeah, the god was definitely Poseidon”

“How are you sure?”

“That line he just sung, “Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves”, Posy is always fucking saying that crap”

“500 men? Damn”

“Penelope, presumably the wife. Don’t know about the other guy tho”

“Either a son, brother, or lover. Or maybe just a friend I dunno”

“Another infant? What the fuck is wrong with this guy, pulling a fucking Hera”

“Gotta appreciate the determination of him”

“Yeah, but I think we’ll see him here again soon. If he’s pissed of Poseidon, and soon to be Zeus if Tiresias is to be believed, I don’t think he’ll get much further when he gets out of here”

“So we are letting him go”

“Yeah. Partly because I want to see what happens next. When he gets here we’ll ask him to tell the full story, from beginning to end”

“Alrighty then”

~~~

“I swear if I get dragged out of the underworld for one of Zeus’ little games one more time this year I might actually start a war”

“Mum keeps staring at me…fuck she’s probably gonna try and talk after this, fuck meeeeee”

“We can escape in the middle of it, no one will know”

“Oh she’ll know. Do you know what this is about like, at all?”

“No, but I think Hermes might launch into the fourth dimension if he keeps vibrating like that in his seat”

“Yeesh”

“Hmm, odd. I don’t see Posy anywhere”

“Maybe he’s competing?”

“Nah, he always declines when Zeus asks, he hates it”

“Why were you not invited?”

“Dunno, probably has nothing to do with me”

“Oh it’s starting, it’s starting”

“Athena’s challenging eh? Interesting”

“Would love to know what any of this is about”

“Mortal lover? Demi-god child? Those are the usual subject”

“Yeah but that’s not Athenas thing. Probably something to do with one of her “warriors” or whatever”

“Apollo, of course. Always has to be apart of these things”

“The drama queen”

“Truly”

“Hephasteus and Aphrodite? That’s a little awkward”

“Weird lineup so far- fucking Ares? Yeah shes not winning this one, sibling spite is stronger than any argument she can give”

“Why would all three of them be included. I can feel the tension from here. I’m uncomfortable”

“And Hera? Yeah no she’s loosing for sure, Hera like not care less about any mortal, unless they’ve offended her”

“She might be convinced, just to spite Zeus?”

“That just sounds unhealthy on so many levels”

“Alright let’s see what this is about”

“Hold up, Ody?”

“Oh my gods. You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Well he was one of her warriors. Was he not?”

“I can’t believe he’s still trying to get home. It’s been like ten years, how the fuck”

“Well, if he pissed off Poseidon then he probably has something to do with it, the pissy bastard”

“Killed sirens. Why would you do that, so unnecessary”

“Sacrifice??? What the fuck is this man up to????”

“Didn’t we have a few Scylla sacrifices a few years back. Think that was him?”

“Holy shit we did. Yeah, Posy stays away from Scylla to the best of his ability, travelling in her domain to avoid him is not a bad idea”

“‘Phro is mad that his mum died? Girl you are grasping at straws, even more than the previous two”

“Hold up, why the fuck was I not invited?! He traveled through my domain, disturbed my souls, he even woke up Cerberus with his monster wailing, I should be apart of this!”

“I mean it’s a bit weak”

“I have more grounds to be down there than fucking Apollo. Like sirens? Come on man”

“Oh ‘Phro refused huh? Only got two, that’s kinda weak coming from Athena, she usually gets at least four”

“Is that cheating? Her quick thought thing. That cheating?”

“Are there any actual rules?”

“Just, try to win, I guess”

“Oh Ares turn. Wait she lost Aphrodite, this should be over”

“I think this is more of a personal thing. Like I said, sibling spite”

“Oh yeah, Scylla! Fuck this guy is getting around”

“Oh damn, that pissed her off”

“Guessing that the guy other that Penelope, Telemewhatever was his child then”

“Oh wait they yielded?? Huh, never thought that would happen”

“And, Heras turn”

“Yeah like I said she does not give a fuck. But it was a good run”

“Yeah, keeping her four out of five streak”

“Wait what the fuck was that”

“She- she actually yielded?”

“And for not cheating! Man I love this guy, I can’t wait for him to die”

“Only you babe. Wait holy fuck she won?”

“Oh Zeus won’t like- oh, just like I said. He’s pissed”

“Is he gonna kill her?”

“If he does I’ll just resurrect her probably. She deserves a better end, even if she is annoying”

“Well, should we go then?”

“Yeah I have some paperwork to- do I hear boss music?”

“OH SHES STILL ALIVE!!”

“She took a lightning bolt to the face and lived, holy fuck. Gotta respect it”

“I think, she’s actually convincing him? Never thought I’d see the day”

“Well, she’s his favourite child. I think if Ares tried something similar he’d just get struck by another lightning bolt”

“Well, that was fun. When I come back up for spring I’ll have to check with Hermes more about the details of what’s live, actually going on with this Ody dude”

“Yeah. Wanna stop for applebees before we head on down?”

“Yeah, but let’s go now cause mum is heading like right for me and I don’t wanna deal with that until another few months”

This was dumb lol

[aspenmissing]

Hi again!! Love love love the writing you’ve done, hoping you’re having a relaxing day/evening!

would you be willing to do something a little angsty? I’m thinking arcane characters with a reader who they haven’t seen since an accident where both assume the other’s dead, and they’ve both sorta been grieving on their own before realizing their partner’s alive?

If it’s not too much trouble, could you do male!reader as well??

tysm in advance, and if this isn’t something you’re willing to do that’s totally fine, have a wonderful day!! :D

ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜꜱ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ? || ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ/ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 5365 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴘʀᴇꜱᴜᴍᴇᴅ/ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ꜰɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴇxᴘʟᴏꜱɪᴏɴꜱ, ɴᴇᴀʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ᴏʜʜ ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ!! ɪ'ᴍ ɢᴜᴇꜱꜱɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ! ᴡᴇʟʟ ɪꜰ ꜱᴏ, ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ!! ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴋᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ᴡᴇʟʟ! ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀɴ ᴀᴍᴀᴢɪɴɢ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ, ɪ ᴀᴍ ꜱᴛʀᴜɢɢʟɪɴɢ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ, ᴀꜱ ɪ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʀᴇᴘᴇᴛɪᴛɪᴠᴇ! ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ʀᴇɢᴀʀᴅʟᴇꜱꜱ!!

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ

JAYCE

The explosion had torn through the undercity like a vengeful storm. Shards of glass, searing heat, the deafening roar of Hextech energy gone awry—it had been the last thing Jayce remembered before everything faded to black.

When he awoke, the world was a haze of pain and sterile light. Bandages wrapped tight around his wounds, the sting of disinfectants sharp in his lungs. He barely had time to register where he was before panic seized him.

“Where is he?” His voice was hoarse, raw from disuse. “Where’s—”

The enforcer at his bedside frowned, shifting uneasily. “No other bodies were found.”

Jayce’s breath caught in his throat. “That’s not possible. He was right there—”

“There was nothing left.” The words were firm, final. “We searched.”

It was enough to make the room spin. Enough to steal the strength from his limbs. The wreckage had swallowed you whole, leaving him with nothing but the suffocating silence of loss.

And so, Jayce grieved.

He threw himself into his work, into politics, into building the future you two had dreamed of. But every victory was hollow. Every breakthrough was tainted by the ghost of your absence.

Because it should have been you standing beside him.

=

You awoke in a dimly lit room, head pounding, ribs aching with every breath. The scent of damp metal and oil clung to the air, a stark contrast to the searing heat you remembered before darkness swallowed you whole. A figure loomed beside you—a Zaunite, rugged and worn, watching as you stirred.

“Finally awake,” they muttered. “Damn miracle you made it out.”

The words barely registered. Your mind was already clawing for something else. Someone else. “Jayce.” The name was a rasp, raw with desperation. “Where is he?”

The Zaunite’s face darkened. “We didn’t find anyone else.”

You blinked, trying to push through the fog in your mind. “No, that’s not right—he was there. He was—”

“The place was already in ruins by the time we got there.” Their voice was quiet but firm. “If he was there, he’s gone.”

The words struck like a blade to the chest, sharp and merciless. You searched their face, hoping—praying—for something else, for anything else. But there was nothing. No reassurance, no sliver of hope.

Just loss.

Jayce was dead.

So you ran. You left Zaun, unable to bear the weight of his absence. You wandered, lived, existed—but you never truly breathed again. Because how could you, when half of you was buried under the ruins of your past?

=

Returning to Piltover was never in your plans. But something had drawn you back, an unshakable feeling that festered in your gut. Walking through the bustling streets felt surreal, like stepping into a past life—one you had long abandoned.

And then, in the blur of vendors and scholars, a newspaper caught your eye. The inked headline sent a shock through your body, freezing you in place.

JAYCE TALIS PRESENTS LATEST HEXTECH ADVANCEMENTS AT THE ACADEMY

Your heartbeat thundered in your ears. It couldn’t be.

Hands trembling, you snatched the paper and devoured the article. There it was—his name, his image, his alive presence, printed in black and white for all to see.

Jayce was alive.

You didn’t hesitate. The newspaper crumpled in your grip as you turned on your heel, breaking into a sprint toward the Academy. The city blurred around you, the streets a haze of noise and movement, but none of it mattered.

You pushed past scholars and enforcers, barely taking in their startled shouts as you stormed through the Academy’s doors. The hallways were a labyrinth, but your feet moved with purpose. You knew exactly where he’d be.

His lab.

The door loomed before you, just slightly ajar, light spilling out from within. You stepped forward, barely able to breathe.

And then—

There he was.

Jayce.

Standing over his workbench, deep in thought, fingers curled around a piece of Hextech as if the world outside didn’t exist. Alive. Breathing. Whole.

The sound of your footsteps made him glance up. His brow furrowed in mild irritation at the interruption—until his eyes landed on you.

His entire body went still. The device in his hand clattered onto the table. His lips parted, but no words came, only a sharp inhale, as if the air had been stolen from his lungs.

You couldn’t move. Neither of you could. The world seemed to collapse inward, leaving only the two of you standing in the wreckage of years lost.

“Jayce?” your voice cracked, raw with disbelief.

His name—your voice—shattered whatever held him frozen.

“You’re alive?” he whispered, stepping forward. Hesitant, like if he reached for you, you might vanish.

A raw, disbelieving laugh bubbled up from your chest. “You thought I was dead?”

Jayce shook his head, his throat working, eyes glistening with something that made your own blur. “I—” His voice broke, and then suddenly, he was moving, closing the space between you in a heartbeat.

Before you could blink, he was there, arms wrapping around you so tightly it almost hurt, but you didn’t care. You crushed yourself against him, fingers gripping his coat like he might disappear again if you let go.

“You idiot,” you choked out against his shoulder, voice breaking. “I thought I lost you.”

Jayce exhaled a shaky breath, his grip tightening like he was afraid you’d slip away. “I thought I lost you.”

The city hummed around you, but it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered. Because after all this time, after all the grief and pain—you were finally home.

VIKTOR

The experiment had been going well. Too well, perhaps.

Viktor had warned against rushing, but Y/N, ever the daring one, had coaxed him into pushing just a little further. Just a little more energy, just a little more power. The Hextech core pulsed erratically, the glow shifting from its usual steady blue to a violent, crackling gold.

And then—

A deafening boom. The world turned white. Heat, pressure, then nothing but the sensation of weightlessness before everything was swallowed by darkness.

=

Pain.

That was the first thing Viktor felt. A dull, thudding pain behind his eyes, followed by the sharp sting of his wounds. His body felt heavy, his limbs aching as he tried to make sense of where he was. The smell of antiseptic and something sterile clung to the air.

A hospital.

His mind fought through the haze, grasping at the last thing he remembered. The lab. The explosion. Y/N—

His chest seized. Y/N. He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in his side made him gasp, a nurse rushing to his side to press him back down.

“Mr. Viktor, please, you need to rest—”

“Y/N—” His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. His heart pounded against his ribs. “Where—where is he?”

The nurse hesitated. His breath caught in his throat as he watched her expression shift, sorrow washing over her features.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, voice hushed. “He… he didn’t make it.” The world stilled.

No. No, that couldn’t be right.

His hands trembled as he reached for her, his knuckles white. “No,” he rasped, eyes wide. “That’s not—no, you must be mistaken—”

The nurse placed a gentle hand on his arm. “I know this is hard, but… we confirmed it. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

His loss. The words struck him like a hammer to the chest, shattering through bone and sinew. Y/N was gone. His Y/N was—

A choking sound left his throat. His lungs refused to work properly, his heart struggling to keep up. It felt as though the ground beneath him had been pulled away, and he was left flailing, weightless, in an endless void.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. The world around him blurred into static, muffled voices and beeping machines drowned beneath the roaring in his ears.

Y/N was gone.

=

Elsewhere, Y/N was fighting his own battle with consciousness. His body ached, bandages wrapped tightly around his arms, his ribs, even the side of his face. He groaned, shifting slightly, his throat dry as sandpaper.

“Ah, you’re awake,” a nurse murmured, stepping closer with a gentle smile. “Take it easy, you’re lucky to be alive.”

He winced, forcing his eyes open. The light above him was blinding. “Viktor,” he croaked, licking his cracked lips. “Where’s Viktor?”

The nurse frowned. “Victor?”

“Yes,” Y/N swallowed. “Viktor. My—” His voice broke, but he pushed through. “Where is he? Is he alright?”

The nurse’s face darkened, her lips pressing into a thin line.

She inhaled sharply, shaking her head. “I… I’m sorry. There’s a Victor listed in the morgue.”

Silence. The word slammed into his chest, a cold dagger plunging deep into his ribs. Morgue.

Y/N’s heart stuttered, his breath hitching violently. He struggled to sit up, panic clawing its way up his throat. “No—no, that’s not right, he—he was right there with me—”

The nurse gently pressed him back down. “I know this is difficult, but we confirmed—”

Y/N barely heard her. His pulse roared in his ears, his hands gripping the sheets like a lifeline. He felt sick, his stomach twisting into impossible knots.

Viktor was gone.

He barely registered the way his vision blurred, his whole body shaking as the weight of those words crashed over him. The thought of Viktor—his brilliant mind, his sharp wit, the way he would lean into Y/N’s touch when no one was watching—gone.

It was unbearable.

=

Two days passed.

Neither slept. Neither ate. Both suffocated under the grief of losing the other.

It was only by sheer accident that the mistake was found. A supervisor reviewing the records noticed the discrepancy in names, and a frantic correction was made.

But damage had already been done.

When Viktor heard the news, he almost collapsed on the spot. He gripped the hospital sheets with shaking hands, barely able to register the doctor’s words through the pounding in his skull.

“Y/N is alive,” they repeated. “It was a clerical error.”

A mistake.

Viktor barely gave them time to finish before he was shoving the covers aside, ignoring the protests of his battered body as he forced himself to his feet. The pain didn’t matter. The dizziness didn’t matter.

Y/N was alive.

And he had to see him.

=

The moment the door swung open, Y/N froze. He was staring. Staring at the impossible. Staring at the figure he had mourned, the man he had convinced himself he would never see again. His mouth opened, but no words came.

Viktor was shaking. “You,” he rasped, his voice cracking, his eyes shining with something too raw to name.

Y/N’s breath hitched, his own hands trembling as he reached out, as if afraid the moment would shatter.

And then—

Then they collided.

Viktor’s cane clattered to the floor as he buried himself against Y/N’s chest, hands clutching at him desperately, needing to feel, to know this was real.

Y/N held him just as tightly, his fingers threading through Viktor’s curls, his body shaking with the force of unshed tears.

“I thought you were dead,” Viktor whispered, voice ragged.

Y/N pressed his lips to Viktor’s temple, the words barely escaping. “I thought you were, too.”

They clung to each other, hearts pounding, breaths mingling, the overwhelming relief leaving them both trembling. They had lost each other once.

Never again.

JAYVIK

Unsure what to do - would love ideas <3

VANDER

The bridge was chaos.

Smoke billowed into the night sky, embers flickering like fireflies in the thick haze. Shouts and screams of pain echoed over the snapping of gunfire and the thunderous roars of explosions. The smell of burning metal and blood clung to the air, suffocating, choking.

Vander had lost sight of him in the chaos.

One moment, Y/N had been at his side, gripping his wrist like a lifeline, eyes fierce even as they dodged enforcers, trying to keep their people together. The next—

An explosion. Deafening. Blinding. The shockwave ripped through the bridge, knocking Vander off his feet, sending him tumbling against the cold, cracked stone. The world spun, dust and screams merging into a nauseating blur.

Vander coughed, pushing himself up. His ears rang, the taste of copper on his tongue. His heart pounded in his chest as his vision cleared, searching—desperate.

"Y/N!"

The spot where his lover had been was nothing but fire and rubble. Bodies scattered like broken dolls. The stench of death and despair crawled into his lungs.

"No…" Vander staggered forward, his body screaming in protest. His arms burned, his legs shook, but none of it compared to the clawing agony in his chest. He dropped to his knees, pushing aside debris with trembling hands. "No, no, no, please—!"

There was nothing.

Only the fire, only the bodies, only the cold, cruel silence where Y/N's voice should have been.

A hand gripped his shoulder. "Vander!" Benzo’s voice cut through the haze, urgent, pained. "We have to go!"

Vander didn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He wanted to scream. To tear apart the bridge stone by stone. But more explosions rang out, enforcers swarming like rats.

Benzo yanked him up, and Vander let himself be dragged away, the grief so thick in his throat it nearly suffocated him.

Y/N was gone.

=

When the dust settled, when the smoke cleared, Y/N was found.

Barely breathing, half-buried under the wreckage, blood pooling beneath him. His armor cracked, his body battered and broken, but alive.

Piltover enforcers pulled him from the debris, their voices distant, blending into the ringing in his ears. Pain laced through his ribs, but it was dull compared to the raw ache in his heart.

Where was Vander? Where were their people?

He tried to speak, to move, but hands held him down. The world spun, vision darkening at the edges.

"Easy. We've got him."

The last thing he saw before unconsciousness took him was the golden shimmer of Piltover’s towers against the night sky.

He was alive.

But he had been taken to the other side of the bridge.

=

Years passed.

Piltover had healed his body, but not his heart.

Y/N had tried. Tried to move on, tried to drown himself in the comfort of luxury, in the artificial warmth of Piltover’s golden streets. But he could never bring himself to return to Zaun. Just thinking of what had happened, of the fire, of Vander—of the man he had lost—made his stomach twist, his breath hitch in his throat.

So he stayed away.

And the years blurred, empty and quiet. He was alive, but it never felt like living.

Until today.

=

It had been a whim, a foolish, aching whim that pulled him toward the undercity, to the bridge that had once been soaked in blood. His feet carried him beyond it, deeper into the smog-filled streets, past familiar alleyways and the ghosts of his past.

And then he saw it.

The Last Drop. Still standing. Still open. His heart slammed against his ribs, breath caught in his throat. The sign flickered, the same dim glow as before, like nothing had changed, like the world hadn’t been ripped apart.

Like Vander hadn’t—

He swallowed hard, forcing his legs to move. He needed to know. Needed to see. He pushed open the door, stepping inside. And there he was. Behind the bar, the same broad figure, the same graying hair, the same weary but firm expression.

Vander.

Alive.

Breathing.

His knees nearly buckled. The world tilted. The past, the pain, the grief—it all shattered in an instant. Vander turned, a mug in his hands, his brow furrowed as he glanced toward the door.

Then he saw him. The mug slipped from his fingers, shattering against the wooden floor.

"Y/N?"

A gasp sounded from the side.

Y/N barely had time to process it before something—someone—slammed into him. Arms wrapped around his waist, the force nearly knocking the breath from his lungs.

Vi.

She was taller now, stronger, her hair pulled back messily, her grip on him so tight it hurt.

"You're alive," she choked out, voice shaking against his chest. "You're

really alive."

Before he could speak, another body crashed into him, thinner, trembling—Powder. Her arms latched around him, her small fingers clutching desperately at his coat.

"Uncle Y/N," she whispered, voice breaking. "I thought… I thought you were never coming back."

The title—Uncle—hit him like a punch to the gut. His legs gave out beneath him.

With a ragged breath, he dropped to his knees, his arms wrapping around them both, crushing them against him. Vi’s fingers fisted in the back of his shirt, her whole frame shaking, while Powder buried her face against his ribs, hiccuping between sobs.

His throat tightened as he held them, hands shaking, pressing a kiss against the top of Powder’s head, pressing his forehead to Vi’s.

"I—I'm here," he rasped. "I never wanted to leave you."

Vi pulled back first, just enough to look at him, her eyes glassy but still burning with that same fire. "Mom and dad… they didn’t make it," she admitted, voice raw. "It’s just been us. Vander took care of us, but… we thought we lost you, too."

The words struck like a knife, but Y/N forced himself to hold steady. He looked up, gaze locking onto Vander—who was still watching him like a ghost, like if he blinked too hard, Y/N would disappear again.

Y/N’s breath shuddered. His grip on the girls loosened just slightly as he stared at the man he had grieved for, the man he thought had been lost to fire and blood.

"I thought you were dead," he whispered, voice barely above a breath.

Vander exhaled shakily, stepping forward, hesitant, like he was afraid Y/N would vanish into smoke. "So did I."

And then, before he could think, before he could stop himself, Y/N surged forward.

And Vander caught him.

His arms wrapped around Y/N, strong, solid, real. The scent of old ale and soot filled his lungs, grounding him in the present, in the warmth of the man he thought he’d lost forever.

Y/N clung to him, fingers curling into the fabric of his vest. His breath stuttered against Vander’s shoulder, his heart hammering in his chest.

"I'm home," he whispered.

And Vander, voice thick with emotion, held him closer.

"Welcome home, love."

SILCO

The deal was supposed to be simple. A trade. No bloodshed. No unnecessary theatrics.

Yet here you were—on your knees, blood dripping down your temple, the cold steel of a knife pressing against your cheek. Silco stood just a few feet away, restrained, furious, and helpless. The smug bastard across from you, a rival chem-baron named Grady, grinned like he had already won.

"You really thought you could play in my territory and get away with it?" Grady taunted, tracing the blade along your jaw. You grit your teeth, tasting iron, your own blood sliding past your lips.

Silco's single visible eye burned with rage. "You’re making a mistake, Grady." His voice was eerily calm, a warning wrapped in honey and poison.

Grady scoffed. "No, Silco. You made the mistake. Thinking you could keep everything in Zaun under your thumb forever."

Then the blade plunged.

You gasped, the white-hot pain blinding as the knife slashed across your eye. The world blurred, darkened, but there was no time to recover—Grady’s goons shoved you backward, and your boots scraped against the edge of the dock.

Silco’s voice cut through the agony. "No!"

And then, you fell.

The icy embrace of the river swallowed you whole, muffling Silco’s screams as you sank beneath the surface. You kicked, flailed, but the pain was too much, the exhaustion too deep. Your last sight before the water claimed you was a gun, cocked and pointed at Silco’s temple.

Then—darkness.

=

The man in the mirror was a ghost of who he once was.

The scar carved through his right cheek, an ugly, jagged reminder of that night. An empty socket remained where his eye used to be, now covered by a patch. The river had spit him out somewhere along the outskirts of Zaun, barely alive, but no one had been looking for a corpse.

No one had been looking for him.

He thought of Silco often. Thought of what had happened after he hit the water. If Grady had pulled the trigger. If Zaun had lost its Eye that night. If Silco had been dumped into the river next, left to rot in the murky depths alongside him.

But the whispers told a different story.

Silco was alive. And not just alive—thriving. Ruling.

The people of Zaun spoke his name with reverence and fear. He had become something more than just a man; he was a force, a vision, a leader that even Piltover could no longer ignore.

And yet, you had been nothing but a phantom, lingering in the shadows, a relic of a past that should have been buried beneath the currents.

You swallowed the bitterness clawing up your throat, gripping the worn wood of the bar counter. Your fingers curled against the splintered surface, knuckles white, nails digging in as if the pressure could keep the past from flooding over you.

You had spent years in the dark, healing, surviving, waiting.

Waiting for what, exactly? Revenge? Closure? Or something more dangerous—something softer?

You didn’t know what you would do if you ever saw him again.

And yet, fate seemed eager to decide for you.

=

The scent of smoke and whiskey clung to the walls, the dim lighting casting long shadows over the polished desk. You had been here before—years ago—when the world was different, when you were different.

The chair behind the desk remained the same. The stacks of documents, the scattered cigar trays, the ever-present bottle of Shimmer swirling in the low light.

It was almost easy to pretend nothing had changed.

Almost.

You stood in the middle of the room, hands clenched at your sides, your heart pounding with an anxious rhythm you hated. You had faced death. You had survived. And yet standing here, waiting for him, felt more terrifying than anything the undercity had ever thrown at you.

The heavy clack of boots against wood made your breath hitch.

Then—the door swung open.

Silco stepped inside, already moving toward his desk, muttering something under his breath before stopping dead in his tracks.

His lone eye locked onto you.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

The air between you was thick, suffocating. His gaze flickered over you, drinking in every detail, lingering on your missing eye, the scar, the way your stance had shifted—like a man who had learned to walk through fire and come out the other side burned, but not broken.

"You’re real," he murmured, more to himself than to you.

You swallowed. "I am."

Silco exhaled sharply, stepping further inside, the door clicking shut behind him. He moved carefully, like approaching a wild animal, hesitant but deliberate.

"They told me you were dead." His voice was rough, strained—like something fragile was cracking underneath.

You let out a humourless laugh. "So were you."

His eye flickered to your missing one, to the scar that told the tale of that night. His lips parted slightly, something breaking behind those sharp, calculating features. His grip on control, on reason, slipped for the first time in years.

"I saw them put a gun to your head," you admitted, voice lower now, hoarse with the weight of everything unsaid. "I thought I lost you."

Silco exhaled sharply, stepping closer, his hands finally rising, hesitant but desperate. His fingers brushed your jaw, tracing the edge of the scar, a touch so light it sent a shiver down your spine.

A confirmation. A question. A plea.

"They tried." His voice was softer now, lower. "But Sevika got to me before they could pull the trigger." His eye darkened. "I searched. For weeks. No body. No sign." His breath wavered for the first time. "I thought the river had taken you from me."

"It almost did." You let the words linger between you. A ghost of a truth neither of you wanted to face.

The river had claimed so much from both of you—almost everything.

Silco's hand moved, cradling your face fully now, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek, lingering over the scar. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath unsteady, his grip firm, as if he feared you would vanish if he let go.

For a man who ruled Zaun with an iron will, he trembled now, just slightly, against you.

"You came back," he murmured, and there was something raw in his voice, something only you had ever seen before.

Something human.

You let out a shuddering breath. "I never stopped looking for you."

A beat. A breath. A moment stretched too thin, years of grief and longing condensed into the space between you.

Silco pulled back just enough to look at you—truly look at you, as if memorizing every new line on your face, every wound time had carved into you. His gaze flickered down to your lips, hesitation flickering across his features before his grip on restraint snapped.

And then he was kissing you.

It wasn't soft. It wasn't gentle. It was desperate. Teeth clashed, breath mingled, hands fisting into fabric and hair as if trying to pull the other impossibly closer. It was fire and rage and grief and something too deep to name.

It was a resurrection.

When he finally pulled away, he didn't move far. His forehead rested against yours again, his breath heavy, his grip unrelenting.

"Never again," Silco whispered, his voice shaking. "I won't lose you again."

Your fingers curled into his coat, grounding yourself in the warmth of him, the solidity of his presence. "Then don't let me go."

Silco exhaled, a breath between a curse and a prayer.

He never would.

[barblaz-arts]

Found out about you and your chaggie art on twt and decided to check out more of it on here! I’ve heard about hazbins hotel before and have seen the pair and fanart of them but haven’t made the decision to watch the show.

Wanted to ask from your perspective, what is it about chaggie that you like? Could be anything about their relationship dynamics, wtv representation that they portray, anything! Should I watch hazbins hotel for them 🤔

Gosh! What do I love about them??

Oh man, welll... On a surface level? The dynamics they display are just so delicious to me, and I especially love that it's always a little subverted with them, yunno? It's angelXdemon, but the demon is the precious sunshine while the angel is the grump with a body count. The princessXknight dynamic they display is subverted too because although Charlie is the one born in the worst realm in Creation, she's still the privileged princess, meanwhile even though Vaggie is the one who came from literal paradise, she's the one who lived a life that wasn't exactly luxurious. They just present dynamics I've already always loved but with a fun little twist.

But on a deeper level, I think I love Chaggie because they're already so far along in their relationship, and you can see it in how comfortable they are with each other, which was such a surprise for me. You see, I'm not very good at fixating on ships when they're already canon. Like, I'd think it's cute, but I wouldn't be itching to find fics about them. And if a ship I've liked finally gets together, I actually... usually... Kinda sorta love the ship a little less... I'd still like them! I just wont be as giddy about them.

But omg Chaggie still manages to give me butterflies, and I think it's because they're way past the honeymoon phase, something that I barely see represented for sapphic couples who are such important characters in a story. Lotsa people didnt like how it wasn't initially obvious that they were a couple, but I actually really loved how the writers and animators showed how deep their bond is without having them making out ang grope each other all the time. God if they were like that, it'd probably give me the ick.

It was just lowkey, because they've been together for years. Charlie would casually rest her arm on Vaggie's thigh and Vaggie isn't flustered because it's probably a habit of Charlie's by now. Vaggie would tuck Charlie's hair out of her face while she's worried about something and it isn't framed as a special thing, but you can tell by how Vaggie looks at Charlie that it wasn't done with any less love than it did over the years. And when Charlie's stressed about a phone call, Vaggie wordlessly offers her hand and Charlie takes it with a quick appreciative smile before holding on tight and bouncing their joined hands up and down like it's a stress reliever.

Their interactions weren't uber sweet with heated physicality, but the show had them display familiarity and comfort instead. And idk i just love that. I love that you can clearly tell they're best friends. Like, the very first scene they appear in for the Pilot, Vaggie is tying Charlie's bowtie for her while Charlie stares at her with a smile on her face. So cute...

Also. I just think both of them are hot lmao

So. Do I think you should watch the show for Chaggie? Idrk. I personally watched for them, but I came into the show expecting not to get much shipping fuel bcuz they were already in a relationship in a show that has a whole dang lot more going on in it. So some people who wanted to get into the ship expecting maybe a lotta smooching felt unsatisfied. But honestly, what did they expect from a 8 ep season that only had a run time of 22 mins per episode, in a show that wasn't even a romance? 😭 I personally thought we got a decent amount without taking away from the actual plot.

I think you should try to watch with the mindset of just having plain ol fun. Try the first 2 episodes, which is only 40 mins of your day. If it doesn't jive with you, that's totally fine. But pls do check out the songs if you dont like the show. The songs are so good. My favorite song from the season has plot stuff, but this one is my second favorite

And since we're talking about Chaggie, here's the reprise of that song sung by them. It's short, but they promised more chaggie songs will be in season 2 so im not too sad about it. Charlie and Vaggie's VA harmonizing is just beautiful.

Edit: for those who saw this post when i accidentally prematurely posted it before adding the links and photos, no you didn't ����

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Same as it ever was 15

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: Hellllooooooo

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your muscles release as you whine. The orgasm ripples but unlike before, it doesn’t pinch behind your tailbone. It’s like everything is looser. You heave into the top of the pillow as your body slackens against the cushions. 

Lloyd rubs you gently as he slows, spreading your cum along your folds, a trail streaked over the curve of your ass. He gropes you, only for a moment, then lets you go with a growl. He sighs. 

“Fuck,” he taps you with a single finger. “Dimples are kinda cute, ya know?” 

“Hansen,” you snip. 

“Don’t undo all my hard work,” he warns and stands. “Now, I don’t know how you put up with them but you got kids. They got what... four more hours at school? That means we need to get you back in semi-working condition.” 

“The doctor said I need to relax,” you say. “Which is easier when you’re not around.” 

“Sure, my mom used to say as much—er, cut that.” He snickers, but not very genuinely. “Look, he said a hot bath would do ya well. Get this, I got just the thing.” 

He bends and scoops his arms under you. He tips you into them and lifts. You lean into him with no other choice. You’re overly aware of your stomach rolls. 

“Baby, this is kinda hot. Like a doctor-patient sorta thing. When you’re back on your feet, maybe I'll get you a nurse outfit. Crotchless and all,” he taunts. 

You groan and rest your head on his shoulder. You’re tired and weak. A little ashamed of how easily he got you going. Well, he's taking advantage of an injured person.

He’s right, though. It’s been a long time since Pete got you off. A long time since he genuinely wanted you. He might claim to be trying since you found out about his betrayal but you know better. He’s guilty and afraid. He feels bad for being caught and doesn’t want to face a life of single fatherhood. Well, you think you’re done worrying about what your husband wants. 

Lloyd carries you into a pristine bathroom. Gold-veined black marble with matching metallic trim. Large mirrors across the wall above the floating countertops; a furry bathmat; fluffy towels hanging on gold bars, and a large black porcelain tub with a perfect circle brim. Huge, deep. Expensive. 

“It’s got jets,” he proclaims proudly as he sits you on the toilet, a fluffy cover over the lid. “Ten settings, including pulse.” 

You look around. Another twinge of inferiority in your chest. He saw your house, the home you barely keep together; your worn-out couch and fading rug. As much as it makes you self-conscious, it makes you angry too. How’s a prick like that get paid for being so terrible? 

He bends over the tub and twists on the faucet. He pushes down the stop and stands with a groan. He braces his hips. 

“Ah, I’m feeling a bit stiff myself,” he turns to you, his bulge at eye level. You sigh. “More than enough room for both of us.” 

Your eyes drift to the side. He’s worse than a child. He is willfully petulant. 

“Let’s get you in first,” he lifts you and angles you over the edge. You grip the sides and help him ease you in. You won’t complain, not as the hot water laps around your legs. Sweet relief. 

He steps back and peels off his shirt. You roll your eyes. He snickers. He strips without shame, leaving his clothes in a heap. He steps over the wall of the tub, dick bobbing without a care, and lowers himself across from you. He keeps his arms stretch around the brim. 

“Ahh, this is nice, isn’t it?” He preens. 

You meld with the porcelain, staring at the ceiling. 

“Quite the upgrade, huh?” 

“Look, I get it. It’s a nice place,” you say. 

“Baby, if you think that’s what I’m getting at--” 

“With as much respect as I can muster for you, Hansen, kindly just stop for two seconds.” You rest your hands in your lap and groan. “Thank you.” You look at him. “I appreciate you doing this even if it is for your own gain.” You drop your head back. “My back fucking hurts so bad.” 

He laughs, “need some more pills.” 

You shake your head, “I’m fine. Just...” you close your eyes. “Shh.” 

You wait for it. Steel yourself for it. Another smart remark. 

It doesn’t come. Instead, the tub thrums and a jet sprays right against your hip. You moan without meaning too. Oh, that’s nice. 

Still, he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t gloat about the fancy tub or the noises escaping you. You cling to that peace, that rare instance when you can just be. Not an employee, not a wife, not a mother. Just a woman basking in a moment’s peace. 

🗄️

“Mom,” Simone’s voice breaks through the darkness. 

Your eyes snap open. Panic swells over and you lift your head with a confused blink. You stare at your daughter then look down at yourself. 

You’re in a fluffy black robe. Not your own. It’s a bit bigger and much softer than any of yours. A blanket drapes across your, pulled up to your waist, and a cushy pillow sits under your head. Your eyes scan the room. You’re still at Hansen’s but how did she get there? 

“You were sleeping. Tried waking you up but... figured you needed it,” he puts his hands on his hips. 

You glance at him as Malik appears at his sister’s side. His eyes are round. 

“This creep showed up at the school,” Simone says. 

“Hey,” Lloyd frowns. “I’ve been nice, you know? You could try.” 

Simone rolls her eyes and shifts her bookbag on her shoulder. “Where’s dad?” 

“He’s...” you hesitate, sorting through your foggy thoughts. “He’s got his meeting. Sweetie, why don’t you read your book? I just need to wake up.” 

“Mommy,” Malik pouts. 

“Come here,” you pat the sectional beside you. There’s more than enough room. 

Simone drags her feet away, “when are we going home?” 

“Soon. I’m just... I went to the doctor. I should be okay soon.” You explain. 

Lloyd paces listlessly as Simone sits in a velvet chair. She curls her lip at the decor before she digs in her bag for her book. 

“Well, you need anything, kiddo? A snack?” He offers, his voice uncertain. You could laugh. He’s really clueless. 

“First, don’t call me kiddo,” Simone says. “Second, don’t talk to me when I’m reading.” 

You should tell her to be nice but you won’t. Malik climbs up and sits against your stomach. You lay your head back down and yawn. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you all home in one piece,” Lloyd declares. You squint. He’s trying a bit too hard. 

“Right,” you pat Malik’s leg and turn, planting your elbows to haul yourself up. The pain is duller but still there. Manageable.  

“I can put something on for the boy?” Lloyd grabs a remote. “Those freaks in their coloured shirts or that annoying cartoon dog.” 

“Sure,” you say. “Mal, I’ll be right back.” 

You angle yourself around and grunt as you get to the edge. Simone peeks up at you. You frown. 

Lloyd flips through the streaming guide and finds some childrens’ show. He hits play. He puts the remote down and approaches. He offers his hand and you push him away. 

You stand and whisper, “where are my clothes?” 

“Bathroom. The half-bath down the hall,” he points. 

You glare at him, “you should’ve woke me.” 

He shrugs. You shake your head and shuffle out. At least you can walk. 

You find the half-bath and your clothes are waiting. You dress lazily. You do your best to tidy your appearance before you emerge. You can call a cab. 

As you open the door, you flinch away from the figure waiting outside. It’s Simone. She scowls at you. 

“Oh, hi, honey, everything okay?” 

Her lips downturn further. “You’re cheating.” 

You blink, gasping as if she’s slapped you. “What?” 

“You’re cheating on dad.” 

“Honey--” 

“It’s gross and you shouldn’t have let him bring us here--” 

“Honey, no, that’s not--” 

“I know. I can tell. I’m not stupid, mom,” she snarls. “And I’m going to tell dad.” 

You shake your head, “sweetie, things are complicated right now--” 

“It’s nasty. He’s nasty. Mom! How could you choose him?” 

“I didn’t--” You shudder, “baby, you don’t understand.” 

“I do.” Her face turns to stone. “And I hate you.” 

She turns and stomps off. You stare after her, paralysed. You touch your chest, the breath trapped inside, and you whimper. She’s twelve. You can’t explain this to her, but what do you do? 

You go to the living room, “where’s my phone?” 

Lloyd looks confused at the TV as the cartoons put spaghetti on cotton candy cones. You don’t understand those shows either. He peeks over at you. 

“Huh?” 

“My phone. I need to call a taxi.” You hiss. 

“I’ll drive you. It’s no problem. I was just going to order dinner--” 

“No, Hansen. You’ve done enough. I’m taking my children home.” You insist. 

“Watch yourself,” he warns. 

You grit your teeth, “Malik, come on, let’s get your shoes.” You cross the room and grab the remote, shutting off the TV. “My phone, now.” You shove the remote into Lloyd’s hand. 

He stares you down, “what did I do this time?” 

“I have a husband. I have other things to worry about.” 

He sighs and snatches the remote. He turns and slams it down. He grabs your phone from a black tray on the console table. He gives it to you. 

“Well, seems you’re feeling better. I’ll see you at work.” 

“You will, Mr. Hansen,” you sneer. 

You go and grab Malik’s hand. You take him off the couch and into the entryway. You look around. You go to the door and peek through the window. She’s sitting on the front step with her book and bag. 

You get Malik’s shoes on and grab his knapsack. You gnash down on the pain fluttering in your lower back. You let yourself out. 

“Sim, let’s go. Cab’s coming.”  

You quickly order a ride through the app and mourn the unnecessary cost. You stand beside her on the top step. She gets up and looks pointedly away from you. 

You wait in a silence only punctuated by Malik’s clueless questions. When the car gets there, you make sure the kids are buckled in and ride in the middle seat. The way home is much too long. 

You wallow in resent. You deserve that. Simone is so much like you and that makes you both proud and sad. She’s stronger than you in ways but you don’t want her to be damaged by this. You don’t want her to be as cold as you’ve become. 

You tip the driver on your phone before you get out. You heard Malik up the walk as Simone stomps to the front door. You unlock it and she charges inside. She kicks her shoes off on the mat and continues onward. You don’t stop her. 

You put Malik in front of the TV with his cars and go into the kitchen. You focus on the simple task of figuring out dinner. It’s thoughtless as your mind spins. You did this. Not Pete. Not Lloyd. You. You let it all happen. 

You were too weak to find another job. Too weak to stand on your own. And you can be as mad as you want that Pete did it first but it doesn’t absolve you of your own actions. 

Simone deserves a better mother. Malik too. And you deserve every ounce of spite coming your way. 

[kioflerkira]

“ SWINGING ”

pairing: m.morales x reader warnings: swearing, screaming, mentions of biting uhhhmmm, pphysical contact, flirting genre: fluff, action, le romance summary: miles takes you web-swinging for the first time and you scream like you’re dying the entire time— he loves it anyway.

━━━━ ⋮ ୨୧ ⋮ ━━━━

“C’MON,” MILES SAID, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “it’s not that scary. you just gotta trust me.”

you blinked up at the towering skyline of brooklyn, the wind already picking up from how damn high the rooftop was.

“I swear to god, miles—if you drop me, I will come back from the afterlife and haunt your ass.”

he gave you that grin. the one that said, you’re not getting out of this, so might as well enjoy the ride.

“why would I ever drop the love of my life ?” he teased, stepping closer and looping an arm firmly around your waist. “that’d make me a bad boyfriend. and I’m amazing.”

“mhmmmmmm .. debatable.”

“you wound me ..”

“you will be wounded if I so much as feel my soul leave my body during this.”

he just laughed and tugged his mask over his face, voice muffled and cocky. “alright, baby—hold on tight.”

“no, wait, I—”

FWIP.

the web shot out, and you were airborne.

“OH MY GOD—MILES MORALES !”

the scream that tore out of your throat could’ve summoned the dead. your arms locked around his neck on instinct, legs wrapped around his waist, full-on koala mode, and miles was howling with laughter as he swung you both between buildings like it was tuesday and not a dam death wish.

“YOU SAID IT WOULDN’T BE BAD !”

“you’re not dead, are you ?!”

“I’M THIS CLOSE TO BEING DEAD—”

he twisted mid-air, flipped you both over just to show off, and you screamed so loud a flock of pigeons literally fled the scene.

“wooooo ! you’re doing amazing, sweetie !” he yelled over the wind.

“I hate you !”

“you love me !”

“i’m suing you for emotional damage !”

he landed on a rooftop, crouched like a cat, and before you could even catch your breath, he launched again— and you nearly bit his shoulder out of sheer panic.

but somewhere between the third building and the fourth, between the way his body moved so naturally and the way the skyline stretched around you in golden dusk light—you felt it.

freedom.

terror, yes. that too. but ya.

he caught your look mid-swing and grinned so hard you could see it through the mask. “see ? knew you’d like it.”

“I never said that,” you snapped, breathless. “I said I hate you.”

“same thing.”

he tugged off his mask once he landed on the empire state rooftop and grinned, hair wind-blown, eyes warm. you were still clinging to him like a lifeline, breathing like you ran a marathon. he didn’t mind.

“i’ll take you again next time,” he said, casually. “you screamed in all the right places. really boosted my ego.”

you smacked him weakly on the chest, but your heart was pounding for a whole different reason now.

“next time,” you muttered, cheeks hot. “i’m bringing a parachute.”

“and i’m bringing earplugs.”

you both laughed, and somehow, despite your body still trembling and your legs feeling like noodles—you felt safer than you ever had.

terrifying, amazing, chaos-in-a-suit miles.

and you loved him anyway. even if you’d never stop screaming so loudly, geez calm down a little.

━━━━ ⋮ ୨୧ ⋮ ━━━━

a/u: i PROMISE i’m gonna try n get to all my requests in my inbox done but i sorta haven’t been active w writing lately soooo ya. next post will be a requested fic thingy tho 😵😵

[amongus543]

baking, multi (˶ ˘ ³˘)ˆᵕ ˆ˶) how they’re like when baking

characters . sanemi shinazugawa, genya shinazugawa, tanjiro kamado, ◛ 𑙒 ♡ ՞ warnings . fluff、modern au. admin note . aaa its so good to finally be back from a hiatusss !! I missed writing sm, hope this makes me disappearing up! ໒ ᩧ꒱

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA.

well it’s both of yours second anniversary of being married so why not have some quality time by cooking a cake? seems wholesome, hmm..

you suggested the idea and he thought it was cute so of course he accepted, plus any quality time with you is of course the best, taking the day off of his work for you! how sweet!

theennn, the two of you are idiots and burned the cake twice or thrice, but it’s okay, the fourth time was a charm and came out well!

you slap him once with flour on your hand playfully, he either ignores it and smiles or it turns into a mess, either one that flows your boat.

sanemi learned one thing or two from this experience, that no, cornstarch cant be a replacement for flour and that you two are bad at baking, equally.

alot of “nemi, can you get that for me?”

defiantly hugs you from behind and watches over your shoulder when you’re mixing, sometimes not watching and closes his eye and snooze a little

wipes the frosting off of your face with his thumb, would lick it teasingly at times but he has table manners

you two made little doodles on the cake with both of you on it.. ( maybe on each other too )

GENYA SHINAZUGAWA.

he defiantly tried to surprise you with cookies and then burned them, then tried again and managed to make them too big; then he’s frustrated how he can’t do a simple thing as baking

but he doesn’t give up, despite the horrid mess he proceeds attempt to clean up while making his 5th batch. it’s for you so he has to give all his efforts even if he feels like it’s impossible for him .

he didn’t check the time he spent and then you came home, to a messy kitchen and a messy genya. he gets so embarrassed and red on his ears.

trying to make excuses to not seem ‘pathetic’ for not being able to bake simple cookies, he’s so cute you couldn’t be mad at him (╥_╥)

TANJIRO KAMADO.

he actually baked and cooked for his family a lot many times so baking with him would be easy since you haven’t done it before, or maybe you thought.

he’s sorta like a mom you tried to help cook and stuff but you kinda ended up in their way somehow, but he really does try to include you while he’s making the pastries for you both

it’s basically almost that “let’s bake but you can only watch” but he lets you mix the batter for the brownies. brownies are hard to make but he defiantly made it alot of times you could count so, you basically have a professional with you!

of course it would end up perfectly with you two eating in delight

[hmhas-00]

Ch. 26

Hit Me Hard & Soft

A/N- crying in the clubbbb 💔 like and rb and stay tuned for what comes next!

Remy’s POV

My phone buzzed, bringing my attention to my lap. The screen lit up with a text from an unknown number. I figured it was a scam and continued working.

It was finally February, and I was finally back at the office, running around, getting things done for Joe and unofficially co-writing with Rachel. For months I dove into my work and only focused on my goals, before my end of the year performance review, which Joe had postponed due to my accident.

Life was moving fast recently, not giving me much time to process the other aspects of my life. Eating and exercising were things I often forgot to do. Sleeping was also not a priority. There was so much on my plate, but oddly enough it was comforting.

It occupied my brain and took my mind off of personal life matters, such as losing my best friend, to be exact.

My mother passed away last month. I didn’t shed a tear. It was bittersweet. It was weird to think about. The funeral was beautiful, but small. There were family members giving me their condolences that I haven’t heard from since I was in school. It was odd. There were some people I didn’t recognize that swore they held me as a baby. My dad was there too. He avoided me, probably feeling just as awkward as I was.

That was the day I realized I had grown angry and resentful. All of the money I had sent her had been spent, mostly on rent, but also on unnecessary things. She had a boyfriend I didn’t know about. I wondered why he couldn’t pay for her expenses. He seemed nice. He was heartbroken. I found myself trying to mirror his emotion before my aunts’ gossip turned me into the daughter that didn’t give a fuck about her dead mother.

She passed away from a heart attack. She had a past of abusing prescription drugs. It was a habit she picked up after the divorce. She was 3 years clean.

As I said my goodbyes, I realized I hadn’t talked to her in person in almost a year, when I saw her on her birthday the year prior. Seeing her in the open casket reminded me of when I was in the hospital and she didn’t bother to show, yet I was here holding her cold, unfamiliar hand.

I gave myself a moment to mourn what could’ve been, and said a prayer in my head, only for her. She was religious, ironically enough. I was not. I hadn’t prayed in god knows how long. But, I prayed to the universe that she’d be at peace, forgiven by whoever would try to collect her debts, wherever she was now.

When I got home. I melted into my desk chair, focused solely on my work, and haven’t gotten up since.

That about sums up my life right now.

My phone buzzed again. A text from the same unknown number. I opened it, wondering who it was.

Hey I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Ellie, Billie’s girlfriend.

I wanted to invite you to a little pre-valentines day party this Saturday at 7pm! It’s also sorta Billie’s going away party before she leaves for Australia this month. She would love to have you there.

I stopped breathing for a second, reading the messages. I hadn’t allowed myself to miss Billie in a month. I hadn’t allowed my self to think about her. All of her things and all of our pictures were stored away so I didn’t fall apart at the sight of them.

I wondered why Billie hadn’t invited me herself. It almost stung. An invite by formality. I guess I deserved that. Maybe this was her way of seeing if I’d show up.

The thought of explaining myself to her again stressed me out. Nothing was ever good enough for her. My goals didn’t matter to her. That’s how I felt.

I’ll send you the details later. Please come.🤍

She texted me again.

*******

A couple days went by before I actually replied. I thanked her for the invite and let her know I would be there.

The day of the party I took hours to get ready. I was nervous like never before. I decided on some light wash jeans and a white baby-tee. I straightened my hair, wearing it longer than ever, as I didn’t bother to trim or freshen up my curtain bangs due to my busy schedule. I did my makeup the way she liked. Tiny, smudged eyeliner wings at the corners of my eyes, blushy cheeks, lined lips with a dark mauve lip tint and gloss over top. I put on a black faux-leather jacket and drove to Billie’s house.

I decided to arrive a few hours late to avoid the awkward period of time before everyone else showed up, in case things didn’t feel right.

When I arrived, the same security team greeted me at the door. They looked surprised to see me, but let me get through without hesitation.

I walked through the entrance, walking through the halls, making my way towards the noise. In the front room I saw a group of people. Neither of them were Billie.

Finneas looked at me and did a double take. Everyone else remained in conversation. I smiled at him awkwardly and kept walking. The last thing I wanted to do was small talk. I followed the noise into the living room, towards the entertainment area. A multitude of people, but still no Billie.

A beautiful girl, wearing a red, flowy, silky dress walked towards me with a big smile on her face. I took in her presence, taken off guard by her embrace. She squeezed me tight, happy and cheery.

“I’m so glad you came!” She smelled sweet and her aura was warm and inviting. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I guess this is Ellie.

The more she talked, the less I could manage to take my eyes off her. I couldn’t put a pin on it, it began to bother me. Then, I realized.

I couldn’t help but notice the similarities between us two. Her hair looked exactly like mine did when I had time to tend to it, her skin was tan, like mine, our smiles and the way our noses crinkled when we laughed… She was a girlier, prettier version of me. She had dainty tattoos on her arms. Not as many as I, but fuck, we were even the same height. I zoned out, feeling as if I were looking in the mirror.

“Feel free to get some food, there’s lots more in the kitchen. Please, help yourself! I’ll be right back.” She said, walking out into the back yard.

Help yourself. As if I didn’t frequent these halls, and help myself all the time. I looked around, the house the exact same way I left it. I walked into the kitchen hoping to get a moment to myself. I realized most of the people here weren’t the usuals at Billie’s parties. A lot of them, I didn’t really talk to much. I poured myself some sparkling water and tried a few bite size snacks.

I leaned back on the counter, reminiscing on the moments Billie and I shared in this kitchen. All the food we made and all the laughs we shared messing up new recipes, and having to clean up our mess.

Suddenly, I saw a shadow from the corner of my eye, causing me to turn and look. A dark haired figure stood in the doorway.

Billie stared at me, looking like she was face to face with a ghost.

I stood up straight, my brows slightly raised and my lips forming an unsure smile.

Billie looked away, her face reading discontent and disappointment, like she was disgusted that I was here. She quickly walked out, leaving me a mess in her kitchen.

I stood in the kitchen, about to cry, about to run out. I kept my composure, taking a breath and trying to understand what the hell just happened. Wondering why I’m here.

I walked out, b-lining towards the guest bathroom, wiping tears off the corners of my eyes, but heard faint arguing as I passed one of the rooms down the hall. It sounded like Billie’s voice. I got closer and eavesdropped.

“Why the fuck would you do this to me?”

Ellie tried to keep both their voices down, “I thought it would be a good thing. I thought the two of you could talk?”

“If I wanted to talk to her, I would pick up the phone and call her, Ellie. God, what the fuck!” Billie shouted.

“Shh! You’re being so loud. Calm down!”

“Don’t tell me to calm down when you invited her to my house without my permission! You know where I stand. You know that I can’t do this right now. And you bring her here two weeks before I’m supposed to leave for tour?”

The way she referred to me as her pissed me off. Like I was a stranger with no significant value to her.

“Billie, don’t be like that! She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t want to be in your life. You just need to talk, you’re best friends. I thought if I got her here, the two of you would-“

“We’re not friends anymore for a reason! I don’t want to see her Ellie! I was doing fine! I was just fine, why did you have to ruin everything I-“

“No, I wasn’t trying to ruin anything, baby! I wanted you to heal! I wanted you to get closure! If you don’t talk to me, I wanted you to at least talk to somebody!” Ellie said, whisper yelling. Billie didn’t match her volume at all. I could hear the anxiety and pain in her voice. I felt like the ex boyfriend that texts out of nowhere at 3am when you’re finally over him.

The way she tried her best to calm her down… I felt helpless hearing it. I wanted to go in and fix everything myself, the way I always did. I wanted to just go in and hug her tight, even if she tried to fight me off. I’d get on my knees, beg her to forgive me, and make a fool of myself, if it meant she’d be okay again.

At the same time, hearing her talk about finally being okay, and getting over me… it cut deep. Because I wasn’t over her. I didn’t even allow myself to process it. I haven’t had time to process anything that’s happened to me in the past few months. I guess I had me to blame for that.

I walked in, standing at the doorway, watching Billie’s eyes fixed on me, stonewalled.

“Hey, Remy, I’m sorry if you-“ Ellie started.

“I thought you knew I was coming. I thought you wanted me here.” I said, looking between the two. Ellie winced, her plan crashing and burning before her.

Billie shook her head, bringing her hands to the crown of her head and turning around, blowing air out of her mouth. She faced the wall, probably wishing she could teleport anywhere but here.

“I’ll see my way out.” I began to turn, but Ellie rushed over, grabbing my arm, pulling me, and pleading with me. Normally I’d have a problem with a random girl putting her hands on me, but I was so beside myself that I didn’t react.

“I’m obviously not welcome here.” My throat tickled. I cleared my throat, feeling that pit in your stomach that makes you want to sob uncontrollably.

Ellie stood in the doorway, blocking me from exiting. Man, she was strong. “You two need to talk. Hear each other out. Billie, fucking come on! She showed up, she clearly cares about you.”

“I didn’t mean to make you upset. I just wanted to see you and apologize.” My voice cracked. I felt like a stranger in her house. The room I had sat in so many times before felt like a cold jail cell.

What a fucking shit show.

Billie swayed, her back turned toward me, quiet as a mouse as she faced the wall.

Billie’s hair was cut differently than before. She wore a blue and white long sleeve, and a pair of wide denim jeans. She threw her little fake glasses on the couch next to her and continued to sway back and forth. I was almost afraid to be in the room with her. Her hands flexing as she opened and shut her fingers repeatedly. Her rings clinked as they hit the others. She cracked her knuckles, her triceps popping out.

Ellie sighed, “I’m sorry, but I have to do this. You need to talk.” She walked out, closing the door.

[moonstruckme]

congrats!!!! how about fade into you with tasm!peter and touch starved!reader, in an established relationship???

Thanks honey!!

join the party

tasm!Peter Parker x touch starved!reader ♡ 960 words

When Peter gets home, you’re in another long, hot shower. With no one to witness how pathetic it looks, you’ve taken to sitting on the floor, letting the scalding water wash over your back and drip from your lashes. Your skin will be pinkish and puffy when you get out, but it won’t matter; you’ve got nothing to do other than wrap yourself in blankets and sit on the bed for the rest of the night. 

When Peter’s voice comes, it sounds muffled, faraway, but you snap to attention nonetheless.

“Sweetheart?” A faint knocking. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” you say without hesitation, scrambling up and shutting off the water. 

“Shit, it’s steamy in here,” he says as the door opens. “Want me to pass you a towel?”

“That’s alright.” You grab the towel you’ve hung by the shower, hastily scrubbing yourself dry and wrapping it around you. 

Peter’s hands are on either side of the face the second you turn around, pushing your wet hair out of the way so he can kiss you properly. It’s a sweet, brief thing, and your chest aches slightly when he pulls back. 

“Ouch, babe.” His hands feel cool as they move down to your shoulders. You shiver pleasantly. “Your skin’s burning hot. How long were you in there?”

You really should get another towel to stop your hair from dripping all over the floor, but you can’t stand to move away from Peter’s touch. “I was bored,” you reply, “and the hot water is nice.” 

“Seems like it was more than just hot,” he murmurs, grabbing the other towel as if he’s heard your thought and beginning to squeeze the moisture from your hair. “Sorry I was gone so long. I never know how these things are gonna go, you know?” 

“I know.” Peter had been attending a weekend conference on some scientist’s new research at a university in Chicago. He was supposed to be back days ago, but apparently he saw some fishy things while he was there that Spiderman felt an obligation to investigate. “Did you find the mutants?”

Peter shrugs, taking you by the shoulders to walk you into the bedroom. The air feels shockingly cold outside of the bathroom, but the warmth of his touch is enough to keep you from minding. “Sorta. It was a group of guys pretending to be mutants. Projectors and stuff combined with actual explosives to make it look like superpowered attacks.” He sits you down and begins digging through drawers, tossing you a pair of sweatpants and one of his shirts. “It was super sophisticated, had to take a ton of planning. Honestly, if they weren’t, like, bad guys, I would’ve been really impressed.” 

You shrug the shirt on. “Sounds like you were impressed anyway, honey.” 

“Well.” Peter makes a sheepish face. “Just because they’re assholes doesn’t mean they’re not smart assholes, right?” 

“Right.” You say, standing to get the sweatpants on. You don’t know where to go from here, feeling oddly hollow but with no good reason. Peter’s here; your loneliness should be vanquished. You hold your elbows awkwardly. “So, how was the conference?”

“Baby.” Peter sounds almost disappointed, and hurt hooks its claws in your gut before you can even figure what you’ve done. “Why’re you all the way over there, huh? You haven’t even asked for a hug yet. Is something wrong?”

You hadn’t realized you were so predictable, but it is a bit odd for you not to tackle him the second he comes through the door. “I don’t think so,” you say, and Peter’s brows twitch together at your uncertain tone. “I just really missed you, Pete.” 

He makes a pained, sympathetic sound, opening his arms and stepping toward you. “C’mere, sweetheart.” 

And apparently that’s the permission your body was looking for. You meet him in the middle, his arms coming up slow and firm around your shoulder blades. Your chest aches again, but this time it’s almost pleasant, though you feel suddenly like you could cry. Peter seems to know, one arm tightening across both your shoulders while the other hand begins stroking up and down your back. 

“Did you have a bad week?” he asks softly, breath tickling your ear. 

“No,” you reply honestly. “I think…I think I just needed this.” 

Peter gives you a squeeze in response, and you tighten your grip too. 

“Let’s just do this forever,” you say, only half joking. “Think you could come to work with me tomorrow to hold my hand all day?”

Peter doesn’t seem willing to roll with your lightness. “Nobody else hugs you when I’m not around, do they?” he asks, and when you don’t respond, he pulls back slightly, taking your face in his hand. “Do they, sweetheart?”

“No,” you say, and you’re not sure why it feels like an admittance. You’re not touchy with your friends, and your coworkers aren’t close like that. When else would you have the opportunity for hugs? 

“No wonder you get so lonely when I’m gone.” Peter’s voice is fraught with tenderness, and he pulls you close again, petting your damp hair. “I’ll hold you as long as you like, babe, but after that, we should look into getting you a cat or something.” 

“A cat?” You twitch in his hold, perking up hopefully. “I thought your landlord didn’t let you have pets.” 

“He doesn’t, but he also doesn’t have to know,” he says easily. “If it’ll keep you from getting sad like this while I’m away, a cat is a small price to pay. Gotta keep my girl happy, you know?”

“I think,” you counter, “that we should get a cat and you should never leave again.” 

Peter chuckles, kissing the top of your head lightly. “Deal.”

[cauliflowercounty]

Special Request (Feyd Rautha x Reader)

My larger Feyd fic is almost done and will be out soon I promise, but I had an idea for a drabble that I really wanted to write because I can’t get this thought out of my head. It’s sorta stupid but I thought it was cute.

Summary: you’re the only person on Giedi Prime with hair, so Feyd gets you shampoo :)

Reader’s gender not specified

Feyd is sweet if I want him to be

no warnings

—

“My love?” Feyd says as you walk back to your shared quarters after a long day of diplomatic meetings. “May I ask why you’ve been covering your head as of late when we are outside of our chambers?”

“Oh…” you trail off, trying to come up with an excuse. “I’ve… been liking the headscarfs more as of late. Plus, they keep me warm. You know I find the halls cold.”

Feyd shakes his head. “I know when you aren’t being truthful with me.”

You sigh. Of course he saw right through you, him being your husband, after all. “It’s going to sound ridiculous, Feyd.”

“I promise I will not think any less of you. I could never,” he assures you by enclosing your hand in his and giving it a firm squeeze.

“I… don’t like the way my hair looks,” you admit, which makes him frown. He’s always disliked when you talk down about yourself.

“I love your hair,” he immediately says. “It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

“I know you do, Feyd, and I’m really very flattered, but it’s looked awful recently,” you say. “I haven’t been able to wash my hair properly since I got here. The body soap that you have here is lovely, but it’s really not meant for my hair.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he questions. You’ve been married for years.

“I didn’t want to be a bother, especially since I’m the only one that would ever need it on this planet,” you counter as he immediately drops your hand and turns on his heel to head back the way you came.

“Feyd!” You call out to him, worried he’s angry at you, but all he does is call back to you telling you not to worry and that he’ll meet you in your quarters later, leaving you in the hallway in a state of bewilderment.

—

A few days later, Feyd pulls you aside as you gaze out at the industrial skyline of Geidi Prime and starts walking you through the halls.

“I have something to show you,” he says as he takes you to the door of your shared quarters. He unlocks the door and immediately takes you into the bathroom.

“Feyd, what is this?” You gasp when you enter, seeing the room lit by candles and the bathtub full of hot, soapy water. On a tray next to the tub, you see more different kinds of of haircare items than you’ve ever seen in your life.

“What do you think?” he asks. “I had it all brought in specially for you.”

“I love it,” you reply. “I can’t believe you did this just for me.”

“You know I would do anything for you,” he smiles, giving you a soft kiss on the lips. You squeal as you grab a bottle and shed your headscarf and clothes before climbing into the tub and dunking your hair in the water. Feyd smiles at your giddiness, taking the bottle from you and positioning himself on his knees behind the tub. He opens the bottle and puts some of the shampoo on his palm and spreads it onto your hair. Gently massaging your scalp, he works the suds through your hair with his fingers as you close your eyes and sink into the tub, relaxing at his touch.

“You’re marvelous, you know that, my love?” He asks as you hum in response.

“Thank you for this, Feyd,” you grin, feeling all of the stress from the day melt away at his touch.

“Anything for you,” he replies, his heart swelling seeing you so happy.

[chaaistained]

hazy fairy lights and the thought of schedules

me waking up in my kpop dr for a total of five seconds ..

.

.

.

i didn’t exactly go into this with the desire to wake up in a bedroom i’d only ever seen from one angle, in a picture, off of pinterest . i even started out this whole “process” feeling so desperate that i’m embarrassed to go into further detail but, we persevere —

the night before, i was plagued with insomniac anxieties, the fidgety kind, where your mind won’t sit still and your body thinks “hey! that’s a grand idea, let me do the same!” as if i’m not laying there in my bed, tempted to pull my hair out

i figured, what’s there to lose? like every other night, let’s give this another go, and i went to look at my screenshot of emma’s method (@hrrtshape — tysm lovely <3) and started trying to shift to my wr

the desired outcome of a mind bending epiphany, an almost destruction of the very construct of reality . that didn’t happen .. and truth be told, i found it hard to concentrate in general. but eventually i just kept telling myself that “this isn’t a chore, this a hobby, this is something i do for fun. i’ve done this [shifting] before, even if it was only for a few seconds, i can do it again” and i let my mind think about my daily routine and plans for my wr

after that, i don’t really remember falling asleep. i sorta wafted from dream to dream, mostly about my cr life — university, my high school best friend and our galentines plans, i had a weird panicky one about a chemistry test .. i haven’t taken chemistry since i graduated high school four years ago . but anyway apparently the body keeps the score.. yay us

i think what set me off into a more calming deep slumber was how my dream rippled from chemistry and science to literature, english, writing, and more specifically, editing — before i went to bed i was editing an upcoming fic i will be posting to my fic account (shameless plug : @yourislandgirl) and it was a drabble featuring enhypen’s jake, a kpop idol for those who don’t know ^.^

next thing i know, i hear a twinkling alarm, the kind of one that sounds like stars? not exactly the same as the standard iphone alarm sounds but, i remember it feeling familiar ??

i instinctively went to rub my eyes, expecting the usual crust and sleepiness only to find that they were relatively clear-ish (a point i make bcs i specifically scripted that i don’t get super crusty eyes bcs i hate it). it didn’t exactly hit me then, but i patted around my bed for my phone, snoozing the alarm, my eyes still closed as i took in a few deep breaths.

my room smelled like lavender . which is odd bcs i don’t have a room freshening spray in my cr, i rely on candles but wtv not the point, i don’t own a lavender mist .. but for some reason the only thought running through my head when i sighed out in relief, curling myself back under the sheets was “man . my rooms smells nice”

for your information i’m rolling my eyes at myself while i type this up bcs BITCH (directed at me) YOU SHIFTED

anyway, i kinda felt myself dipping in and out of consciousness, or at least that’s what i thought, bcs in actuality i think i was dipping BETWEEN consciousness’ — the cotton softness of my cr sheets was suddenly a smooth milky satin, and then it was cotton, and then satin, and it wasn’t until this hellscape of a cycle repeated itself for the third time, that i finally realised my surroundings were changing.

it was sort of like what being tipsy felt like, a little buzz in my head, my mind feeling fuzzy, like a pom pom . (that’s legitimately how my mind feels when i’m tipsy btw) and it was like my energy was rising slowly and then getting sapped out of me and then rising and falling

i think i was getting sick of it, and knowing me and my lack of patience, that totally tracks, so when i felt a bit more energy bloom inside, i took the chance to open my eyes. my only thoughts were “god i need to get up, i can’t keep laying here dreaming..”

and that’s when i saw it, the room of my kpop dr self, from an ENTIRELY DIFFERENT ANGLE — i saw a vanity, 80% of it filled with lip products which, again, totally tracks . there was a door open and a stepping stone path of clothes leading out of it, my wardrobe . guitar stands, one for an acoustic, one for an electric . a desk with a monitor and a laptop . i EVEN HAD ROOM FOR A BEANBAG COUCH IM SO JEALOUS

AND AND YA KNOW WHAT SUCKS . IT WAS SO NORMAL?? I KEPT BLINKING TRYING TO WAKE MYSELF UP

my mind was like “ . . . huh”

and THE CHERRY ON TOP OF THIS MIND FUCK — all i could stare at were the strings of fairy lights going along the edge of my ceiling, little stars and diamonds, they gave off a warm golden glow and as i laid there with silk soft hair and skin so smooth i can’t believe i didn’t notice when i touched my face . my brain had the AUDACITY to go “oh fuck . i’ve got to record something today. …(sigh) and rehearse”

LIKE- THATS NOT SMTH TO COMPLAIN ABOUT GIRLYPOP??!!)?)!?,?!

i swear- i swear to you guys . i’m appalled at myself

because i just HAD to think abt something important something tiring, something like my DAILY SCHEDULES BCS THEN

I CLOSED MY EYES AGAIN AND FELT LIKE EVERY OUNCE OF STRENGTH WAS BEING PULLED OUT OF ME

and then i woke up here. again.

my hair was drier, and so was my skin, my eyes were crusty and sleepy, my pillows were comfy but nothing could compare to the marshmallow cloud of comfort that were my kpop dr pillows.

i sat up, stretched, cracked all my joints, went straight for my phone and started to doomscroll . like it was some coping mechanism or something. my mind kept going : “that was a dream. that was just a dream. man what a VIVID dream. yeah, that’s it chaai, you had a vivid dream, you’ve always had vivid dreams, that’s your thing! (true story) that’s all this was…”

but, and i swear you can’t make this shit up, it all felt NORMAL , creepily normal. usually in a dream you’re like “ah yes, i’m dreaming, i can’t exactly wake up right now bcs i’m enjoying this dream, but i know i’m dreaming”

no, no, this quote unquote dream, felt like those sleepy mornings when the world feels slow, when the simplicity of the small rays of morning sunlight coming through your window feel cinematic, when you want to close your eyes and keep taking in gentle deep breaths, hold off on getting up, just for five more minutes.

that’s what it felt like.

i didn’t know i was dreaming bcs i wasn’t dreaming. i was just waking up to a dream, as my reality.

and honestly, another factor is how my mind immediately went to the events of my day, a CLASSIC trope in yours truly. honestly nothing is more on brand than me being like “(sigh) life feels so soft and sweet right now .. alright now let’s cause myself a mini panic attack by thinking about my responsibilities for the day and how many there are and how little time i have to complete everything, isn’t that fun???!?”

finally, my energy levels, that thing i mentioned earlier? about how i’d feel the strength grow and decline over and over again? those five seconds i had in my kpop dr were tiring and drowsy, but not lethargic, they weren’t draining, they weren’t exhausting. i had some energy in me .. and when i closed my eyes, it felt like i was being drained, and i woke up here and felt like i had the life torn out of me and then forced back in. as embarrassing as this sounds, i actually think it “proves” this shift a bit more — logically speaking, i’m more fit, more toned, more active in my kpop dr, where my career is hugely based on my skill levels, as a dancer and singer and performer, where an asset in my job is my appearance, and how i keep myself in shape .. i don’t have to worry about those things here, i don’t have the strength or flexibility or just straight up energy that i do in that reality.. i guess it didn’t hit me, how much difference there would be in my physicality, until this shift

so , yeah. that about sums it up

i think i would have benefitted from grounding myself. and i’m 99% sure i’ll face this problem again bcs i can’t even ground myself in this reality let alone another, mostly bcs i don’t want to, (life’s just so much lighter when your head’s in the clouds .. this is very unhealthy, i do not recommend)

but, for the five seconds that it lasted, it was honestly worth it. my room looked splendid, it was spacious, it was not messy (no matter what dr-self tells you), it was instead, aesthetically chaotic in a pleasing way . and i stand by that

but those fairy lights… mf they’ll be haunting my dreams, ghostly and golden and glorious, i can see them so clearly if i close my eyes.

anyway, here’s to more shifts to come !! i’m not giving up just yet, i WILL get back there, or any other dr for that matter, and i wish you all a happy shifting experience <33

bcs trust me, it took me five years to get five seconds, but in those five seconds i felt a whole 16 years of life in me, i felt a definitive existence there, like i had places to be, people to see, things to do. and i hadn’t even sat up in bed yet ..

this shit is real. it’s as real as you reading this right now. and i’m gonna keep trying, even if all i get next time is another five seconds. and i hope you try with me ≈

.

.

.

chaai brews; tea assortments — dr archive

2025 © chaaistained

[steddielations]

“Evening, sir.”

It’s the Harrington boy. Again.

“I told you, son, it’s Wayne,” he manages a smile, harder to do these days, like chipping it out of cement and dusting it off. But he gets it done.

Steve doesn’t have the Henderson boy with him today, that’s a first.

“Where’s the curly one?” He steps aside, letting Steve into the trailer door, more rickety than before. No money left to fix it after repairing the bulk of the earthquake damage.

“Dustin? He doesn’t wanna watch the game, and trust me, you don’t wanna listen to that kid complaining the whole time,” Steve walks by, sorta chuckling to himself, “I always miss the replay ‘cause he makes me change the channel to those D&D cartoons during the commercials, just like—”

He stops in front of the couch, looking over his shoulder at Wayne like he’s afraid he messed up somehow. Wayne noticed that look often from him, less and less, but still often. All that confidence he carries can drop on a dime, sorta reminded him of—

“Like Ed?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“S’alright. I don’t mind talking about him if you want,” Wayne manages another concrete smile, but he means it. Steve always waits for him to bring up Eddie first, like he doesn’t want to remind him if it ain’t on his mind, but Wayne likes to be reminded. It’s nice to feel like he’s not the only one missing him. “But the game was yesterday and y’know the cable’s out.”

“Yep, got it covered. I uh, I taped it,” Steve fishes a VHS tape from his back pocket. Fancy. Wayne would worry about him using that for his sake, but he has a feeling Steve’s folks aren’t around enough to notice.

“The Colts win?”

Steve flips the tape around, “Haven’t watched it, so we can bet on it if you’re feeling lucky.”

It doesn’t feel so dry and heavy when Wayne laughs a bit then, waving Steve to go ahead and start up the TV. He already caught the game on the radio, but he bets on the Colts anyway. Loser’s supposed to do the dishes after they scrounge together some soup, but Steve does them anyway.

Wayne would make a stink about it but he can tell Steve just wants to help, to feel like he’s helping. Same thing when the Henderson boy comes around to see him, wanting to hear all the stories, even the scary ones. So Wayne doesn’t mind letting Eddie’s friends feel like they’re helping him.

His nephew didn’t have many friends. Real, cover-your-six kinda friends. The boys he played his music with, they’ve come by a couple times, Wayne always liked Jeff despite the racket. That older fella that’s doing time now, Wayne wasn’t too fond of. And some of Eddie’s dungeon buddies he talked about were the only few.

Now, casual acquaintances? Anybody who didn’t have anywhere else to sit when he had an empty spot at his table? Sure, Eddie had those in spades.

His boy was good at that, putting on a good old show for his crowd, on a stage to keep his distance. That damn Al did him in good, never could trust easily, having his old man pop up and drag him into his mess before he took off again. And Eddie’s poor momma would’ve done right by him, if she hadn’t gotten sick so young.

Took Wayne a long time to get Eddie to depend on him, to trust this was his place to stay and he didn’t have to earn it, Wayne wasn’t just filling his head to scheme something out of him.

Love ain’t a transaction that way. He wasn’t ever any good at saying it, but he tried to show Eddie the best he could.

His boy though, always carried a debt with him. Like he owed Wayne something for taking him in, had to graduate quick and make it outta here, do something with the better life he gave him. Al dug him in so deep, Eddie stayed roped into whatever his latest scheme was (the cars, the dealing, the gambling, thank God Eddie wasn’t there when the goddamn robbery went wrong, 25 to life) like maybe it’d be enough to keep him from running off again.

The odds have never been in favor of people like them, poor folk in a town that’s stuck in its ways, where everybody’s just like their old man, but Al made his choices and Wayne made his. Rest their mother’s soul, she did her best. Part of Wayne was relieved when Al got locked up, at least Wayne had a better chance of keeping Eddie from going down the same path, try to raise him right.

Being a Munson wasn’t a crime. He didn’t owe a darn thing to anybody. Eddie could graduate at his own pace, play whatever games and music he wanted, dress however, that didn’t mean he was up to no good. And a lot of boys get into dealing for a little easy extra money around here, he was gonna grow out of that just like Wayne did.

It worked until all this mess.

That’s why Eddie ran off after what happened to the poor Cunningham girl. He gets spooked when something goes wrong, like it’ll be the last straw he can’t make up for so he runs off. Like the first time he didn’t make senior year, went and hid out with that Rick fella that Wayne never did like, got Eddie deep into that business he tried to keep a secret.

‘Course Wayne knew. He knows exactly what and where his boy hides. If those damn cops weren’t tailing him, he would’ve gone straight to get him.

That was before he knew it would turn into all of this. Now he wishes he would’ve done it anyway. Gone right to Eddie, told him it wasn’t his fault that everything got all turned upside down. Told him he knew he was innocent right from the get-go, and got him away from this rotten old town.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t go get his boy.

So now he’s just trying to be there for Eddie’s boys, since he can’t.

“You have a night shift tonight right? Gonna put on a pot of coffee,” Steve says once he’s finished up the dishes.

Wayne hums. There’s usually more noise going on during these visits. Steve’s still alright at carrying on, even without the Henderson boy’s chatter to fill any gaps.

It was strange, the first time the two of them showed up. Wayne knew Eddie was close with Dustin, but he didn’t have a clue that he was chumming it up with the Harrington boy. Just don’t seem like the same type of company. He might not believe it if it weren’t so obvious that Steve cared about his boy. He suspected before, but now with Steve showing up here alone, he knows.

Steve misses Eddie in a different sorta way than Dustin.

“No cream or sugar, right?” Steve looks humored by that as he passes the mug of black coffee to him, “How are you related to Eddie again?”

Wayne’s mouth turns upward, remembering his nephew’s god awful sweet tooth. He picked up a box of Honeycombs the other day in the store out of habit. “Just happened to be standin’ there when they beamed him down.”

That gets a good chuckle out of Steve. Nothing wistful weighing it down and Wayne’s glad, watching Steve pour himself a cup of coffee too.

Then bitter-sweetness swirls in his chest, seeing the mug that Steve chose for himself. Must’ve dug it out from one of the boxes Wayne hadn’t hung back on the walls yet. The earthquake did a number on his collection. That Garfield one was the only one he’d gotten around to gluing back together.

“What is it?” Steve asks, cup paused at his mouth.

“Ah nothin’ just,” Wayne waves it off, “That’s the mug Ed always used.”

“Oh, I can use a diff—”

“Nah, nah go ‘head. It’s fine.”

Unconvinced, Steve takes a wary sip.

Mostly these days, Wayne just feels like a watch without a ticker, a chest with nothing beating inside it. He can’t name the feeling he has at seeing Eddie’s old mug being used by someone else, but at least it’s something.

“Y’know, he used to put everything in that sucker. Soda pop, soup, cereal, you name it,” Wayne shakes his head, mouth twitching into a smile, “I’d have to wrestle it away from him just to give it a good washing. It’s well loved, alright. Leaks now.”

As if on cue, Steve has to grab a napkin to sit underneath it.

Wayne lets out an amused hum, “He uh— Didn’t have much stability ‘fore he came to live with me, so he’d get real attached to things like that.”

Carried around a stuffed dragon they picked up at a garage sale ‘til Wayne couldn’t sew the wings back on anymore. Never wanted to throw anything away. Got real anxious about Wayne going to work sometimes, even when he was too old for a sitter. Held onto him saying “Stay home just today, Dad, please.” Which, he didn’t mind Eddie calling him that. It always softened him up, made him give in. Wishes now that he’d told Eddie upfront. Maybe he never would’ve stopped.

“Thought for sure he’d marry that damn guitar one day.”

Steve nearly sputters his coffee, laughing at that, “Yeah, those two are made for each other.”

It’s nice, seeing the way that story lit Steve up. Sorta like his boy can still make someone happy. Hurts like hell that he ain’t here to do it himself, but Wayne was always good at telling stories. That’s where Eddie learned it from.

“I’m uh,” Steve deflates after a minute, looking down at the mug, “God, I’m just really sorry, Wayne.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry too, Steve,” he says, because, well.

Wayne gets the feeling that his boy was Steve’s boy too.

Read the rest on Ao3

[littlemissmiller]

Billy the kid but with kind of a Bonnie and Clyde action going on yk? Like partner in crime sorta thing

Yes ma’am…

𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐻𝒾𝓂

Pairing: billy the kid x fem! reader

Summary: You and Billy have been tasked by Mr. Tunstall to break into the Lincoln jail to get some of his men out. In the thrill of the night and in anticipation of the war ahead, Billy finally tells you how he really feels.

Warning: 21+ (drinking), established relationship, smut, fluff, semi-public sex, p in v, no pullout

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: hey there! i was so excited to get to writing this (and apologize for getting it to the asker so late) but i wrote this before i saw the newest episode and wow it couldn’t have come at a better time…what a sweet little story y’all and I was absolutely clutch my pearls and wine watching that man take his shirt off like y’all 🥵 so i hope you all enjoy I can’t wait for next weeks episode ahhh ♥︎

≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫ ≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫ ≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫

You knew breaking these men out if prison wouldn’t be easy. But you had Billy with you and he had dedicated his life to Mr. Tunstall. As you sit with him and plan you can’t help but feel anxious.

“I reckon we head out after dawn, ride into town and wait until shift change, then we’ll make our move…”

You nod and give your boyfriend a halfhearted smile.

“What’s wrong darling?”

“Just nervous…I mean I know it would be a great deal to free these men, but it’s so risky Billy”

He looks at you more intensely now and scoots closer to you. He trails his finger across your chin and turns you to face him.

“Hey…we got this. Besides you know I’ve done it before…” he chuckles

You nod and smile.

“I know, it’s just I haven’t…”

Billy leans in and gives you a quick kiss, his soft lips slowly melting your anxiety away.

“I promise no matter what you’re my priority. If you get hurt, I will have to leave them men behind to get you help. I won’t let you get hurt though okay?”

You nod and he kisses you again. You knew how much Billy cares for you. And you knew that he could practically have any girl in town. Even a nice proper lady, who wore the big day dresses and rode their carriage into town. You saw how those women looked at him. How they would die to be rebellious and show Billy off on their arm. But they didn’t get him like that. You did. Even though you were more of a cowgirl yourself and that’s really why Billy found you the most beautiful and worthy of his affections. Because you weren’t like most ladies your age.

You’re not dainty and frail. Billy saw that from the moment he met you. The way you confidently held yourself and spoke up when you thought things should be done differently. And your beautiful gaze that left him frozen and intimidated. He was in total awe of you from that day on. Yet, as you sit here with him you allow yourself to be vulnerable and scared. As he rubs his thumb over your cheekbone you try to understand why you feel so nervous.

Maybe because up until now you and the rest of Tunstall’s crew had been operating within the law and were not about causing trouble in town, but with Jesse Evans and his gang working on behalf of Murphy, things had been getting worse. So now you and the crew were being forced to turn to more violent means to protect the farmers and the county. Especially now that Billy was on Tunstall’s side.

“I’m glad you ended up joining our crew, Billy…”

“I’m glad I did too.” He smiles

As the sunsets, Billy is inside the ranch, cleaning off his gun and checking the barrel. You find him and bring him a bowl of ham and beans.

“I reckon we should eat before we go.” You recommend handing him a bowl and some cornbread.

He takes it and smiles. You pull up a stool next to him and sit. The row of you eat in relative silence, watching as the sun disappears behind the horizon. Soon enough, Billy stands up and heads into the kitchen putting his bowl in the sink. He washes his hands and you follow suit.

Your stomach is full with both a good meal and butterflies and you saddle up your horse. The air is colder now and Billy slips on his maroon cardigan and dawns his hat. You pull your jacket on as well and pull your hair back. As you get onto your horse, he helps you hold your hand. His fingers linger on your own for a moment.

“I always thought you looked so beautiful when you rode…”

“You just like how my body bounces…” you smirk

“That’s true, but I’m starting from where I am now, you look like an angel…here” he states handing you a bandana “eventually we’ll need to cover our faces.”

You blush and wrap the bandana around your neck. He hops up on his horse and ties his own bandana around his neck. You and him waste no more time and ride off into Lincoln. The ride itself is only about thirty minutes which allows you to get your nerves out and gain some confidence. As you and Billy approach Lincoln county, stop and look out onto the town. You slowly begin to approach, making sure to sneak in closer to the jail to make the getaway smoother. You look for a close enough spot to hide the horses. The jail is on full view now, close enough to walk to from the hill you and Billy are perched on.

“Ok when the guards leave, we’ll move in. Then we only gotta deal with the warden inside which shouldn’t be too difficult. But you’re gonna help me then ok? I’ll wait around out back and I need you to draw him from his desk. There won’t be any guards outside for at least three minutes, but that’s all we have got?” Billy explains

“I got it.”

“Then once you draw him away, I’ll Come in and we’ll lure him into a cell. I did the same thing down in Mexico. Worked like a charm.”

“That was one person, not two” you remember”

“We can handle it.”

You and him, sit on your horses, and look upon the jail, waiting and waiting and waiting until finally the guards outside begin to move toward the fence to leave.

“Ok let’s go.” Billy instructs.

You and him trot down the hill, keeping a slow enough pace as to not trip or draw attention to yourself. Once you reach the fence you dig out for a pair of wire cutters you had brought along. You cut the fence enough so you and Billy have enough space to slip in. He runs to the back of the jailhouse and you run up to the front. Billy hadn’t given you exact instructions on how to distract the warden, so you decide to get creative. You walk up and frantically pound on the door. You hear footsteps and make it look like you’ve been crying and out of breath.

“Help, please help me!” You plea

The warden steps out confused, looking around for the outside guardsmen.

“I’m so sorry to take you away from you you post sir, it’s just I got into Lincoln and have been running, my horse is wounded, this man is chasing me…” you cry

“A man chasing ya? What ya mean” he says, face scrunched up as he steps outside.

Meanwhile, Billy has broken in and you watch as he approaches the warden from behind, eyes peeking under the brim of his hat, bandana pulled up to hide his face. He clicks his gun at the back of the man’s head and you pull up your own bandana and pull your gun on the man. He frantically looks around for the outside guards, but no one has come to claim the post.

“Get back inside” Billy sneers and the warden listens, turning as you both follow him, gun still raised. Billy glances at you for a moment then back at the man, poking the gun to his head and pushing him inside the cell.

“I’ll go find our men… stay with him.” Billy instructs and leaves you alone with the warden.

You try not to focus on him, but make sure your gun has his full attention. A few moments pass and Billy is still not back. Then the warden sees the new night shift stroll in and begins to yell. You quickly knock him out with the butt if your gun and Billy rushes downstairs.

“We gotta go.” He urges, the other men following him out the back. The shooting starts and the guardsmen seem to notice things aren’t right. They start to yell and chase after you as Billy and the men run up the hill. You follow behind, but fall and trip over a rock. You scurry back to your feet, but one of the guards catches you, knocking you back on your feet. You cry out.

“Ahh help!”

“Go get the horses from over the hill!” Billy instructs the men, running towards you.

The man holds you down and you struggle to get away, kicking and cursing at the man.

“They send a little thing like you to do a man’s job hmm? Guess Tunstall was never a smart man.”

“Get off me you pig.”

“Shut up bitch, you’re going to go in this jailhouse now.” He stands you up and starts to drag you off

“Hey!” Billy shouts “You better hand her over!”

The man stops and whips you around. He holds you against his chest. His slimy lips press up against your ear as he holds you tight against his chest.

“I’m taking this pretty thing to the jailhouse and next I’ll take you.”

Billy marches forward, drawing and raising his gun.

“Let. Her. Go” he grits and the man merely laughs. Billy waist no time and shoots him in the shoulder, then another one to his thigh causing him to release you and fall down. The guard wasn’t dead, just injured enough to keep him away. Then the other guards catch up as well and start to shoot at Billy and the rest of the crew as the other men come back with the horses. They get off and start shooting.

You start to shoot too, taking cover behind the horses, while Billy tries to shelter you. He takes aim at the guards firing and trying to avoid the returning bullets.

“C’mon we gotta go!” One of the men yells out. Billy takes a few more shots and in the distance sees the sheriff riding towards the jailhouse.

“Shit!” Billy curses and you take one last shot. It hits another guard on the thigh and before you realize you’re being hoisted up onto the saddle by Billy. You and him ride together on his horse, while the two men take the other horse.

Out of breath, Billy continues to check on you the entire ride back asking if you’re okay or hurt. Once back at Tunstall’s ranch, Billy helps you off the horse and inside. The rest of the gang are delighted to see Billy and you got the boys out.

“Good work Billy.” Charlie slaps his back.

The rest of the group heads inside while you put away the horses. Billy waits for you. You walk back to him once the horses are tied up. He pulls down your bandana, and you smile.

“You’re a real cowgirl ya know that.”

“I ain’t half the shot you are though.”

“Is that a requirement?” He asks as you wrap your arms around his waist

“Not necessarily, but don’t change the fact you are one.”

“Well then…Mr. Bonney…” you tease “I guess you are too then?” You kiss him deeply, placing your hands flat on his chest and leaning on your toes slightly. He holds your face in his hands, returning the kiss with equal fervor. You could have stayed out there all night with your lips on his. The warm night draped around you like a blanket and the warmth of Billy’s mouth turning up the heat. He moves his hands to your own waist, pulling you closer.

“Hey Billy!” Charlie call out

Billy pulls back, whipping his head around

“Sorry…Tunstall wants to see you”

Billy nods and Charlie heads back inside. Billy turns to look back at you and you both head inside. You join the rest of the men, grab a drink, and make conversation with Charlie. Billy heads into Mr. Tunstall’s office and closes the door. Soon enough he comes back and you excuse yourself from the conversation as he walks back outside.

“Hey!” You call to him “What did Tunstall say”

“Just taking next steps.” He states to you briefly. You could tell something is off and you touch his shoulder

“Billy…”

“Tunstall says a war is coming…that Jesse and the rest of Murphy’s gang will come for us sooner rather than later. He wants me to be prepared. To help lead us.”

“Oh Billy…” you rub his back.

He moves to stand in front of you and smiles, pushing your hair back. He looks past you, takes your hand and leads you to the side of the ranch. He looks around before pinning you up against the side of the house and kissing you deeply. You return his passions, moving your mouth with his. He grabs your waist and you fling your arms around his neck. He kisses you harder and your head bounces against the wood, causing you to grunt.

“Billy, sweetheart, what’s up.”

“I just…I just don’t want to lose you in this war. I feel like I got too close today. “

“You ain’t gonna lose me Billy. If anything I should be saying that about you…”

“I-I love you…”

It was the first time he’d said it openly to you. Sure you two knew it. The unspoken affections and unconditional care for each other. You hadn’t been together long, but you knew it was true.

“I love you too William Bonney..” you whisper, pressing your mouth back onto his with a searing kiss.

You love how soft and encompassing his mouth feels and as his passions overtake him, he’s practically consuming you. He holds your face gently through, not wanting to be too aggressive. You love it. The way in which he holds your face. The way he can’t seem to get enough of you. You love feeling overwhelmed by him. He pulls back, asking a silent permission if he can continue. You give him a devilish smile and take his wrist, leading him away from the side of the house. He trots after you and you playfully run towards the barn.

You open the door and look around. It’s empty because the horses are tied up outside and for once doesn’t smell. Billy catches up to you, swings you around, and pushes you up against the wooden beam. Cupping your face, he picks back up where he left off. You moan against him and his hands begin to explore your body, sending waves of pleasure through your veins. He smiles and gasps against your mouth, pulling back to admire you.

“You know you’re the only girl I’ve ever said that to…” he breathes

“Really…”

“Really… and I mean it” he smiles

He can’t help but kiss you again. He loves the way your mouth feels against his, loves the way you can’t help but moan for him, and loves how you love him back. You hold the back of his neck, fingers tracing the back of his neck hairs. After a few moments of you and him like this you pull back and Billy dives in for your neck, holding your jaw and the base of it as he starts to suck and nibble. You hold his head against you, hips starting to move against his pelvis, building up more and more of the heat that was coursing through your body. You look around and spot Mr. Tunstall’s empty stagecoach. You push back from the banister, holding his face and he continues to kiss you. He stumbles forward and you look behind, eyeing the stagecoach once again. You pull away and pull him by his shirt to make him follow you.

You bite your lip, glancing at the stagecoach . That’s all you have to do for Billy to know exactly what you’re saying to him. He gives you a boyish smirk that turns into a soft chuckle. He starts to unbutton his shirt as you pull him back more and more until you both hit the doors. You open it and slide in. There isn’t much room, but you and Billy manage.

“You really want to do this here” he breathes

“Ain’t like we are one for following rules…now are we Mr. Bonney.” You tease, loving to throw around his last name like that.

“Fuck darling…come here.” He leans back down and starts to undo your pants. As you work your mouth against his, you fiddle with the rest of buttons on his shirt and then his suspenders. Billy starts to undress you as well, undoing the buttons and pulling your pants down. He slides your bloomers off as well, and then works to take your blouse off. Meanwhile, you’ve successfully rid him of his shirt, leaving the top half of his body bare for you. You admire his toned body, glad that his years of hard labor are gifting you with the sight before you. He tends to go for the top part of your undergarments until you're completely exposed to him.

Billy and you have been intimate before, but with things starting to heat up in Lincoln, you and Billy have found much time in the last week or so. And especially now that he’s declared his love for you, you’re both all too eager. As he kisses you, his hands cup your breast, the moonlight shading your cleavage perfectly. He starts to massage it, slowly, but not too gentle. You work to undone his pants as he works you, sliding them off, and he eventually wiggles out of them and kicks them off. He’s half hard, and you reach for his length, pumping him slowly. He reciprocates your actions drawing his hand down to your core, the feather light feeling of his fingertips tracing your figure.

He starts rubbing you once he gets his hand in-between your legs. Billy can’t decide on if he wants to kiss you or watch you as you come undone for him. He goes back and forth in between the two, your melodic moans filling the cramped stagecoach. He slowly gets more and more hard and he wiggles his hips closer to your own. You giggle ever so girlishly.

“This feels so different…”

“A good different?” He asks

“Mhmm…” you nod. “It's a little dangerous. I like it.”

“Because we can get caught” he smirks

You bite your lip “I wouldn’t mind getting caught with the man I love.”

With that he smiles, starts to kiss you again and slowly pushes himself inside. He feels so incredible and full. He bottoms up and looks down at you. He pushes some loose baby hairs away from your face and gasps. You flatten your hands against his chest at first, feeling his clean, smooth skin, before wrapping them around his neck. He starts to move and you draw your legs further apart and towards you. He rocks in you, picking up his pace, trying not to move the stagecoach.

Intimate moments were always good with him. It’s safe to say that Billy knows what he is doing when it comes to pleasing women. But sometimes about having him now felt like it was for the first time all over. Maybe it was the thrill of getting caught or maybe it was the fact that now you know for sure this man, this unbelievably handsome man, loves you.

He ruts into you deep, causing you to grunt and cling to him tighter. He moves his hips more, faster adding to the sensations of your pleasure. You raise your leg up and wrap it around his waist. He grunts, the pressure on his back pushing him deeper in you. He moans against you, his mouth falling to your jawline and neck again. He props himself up more in his hand and moves his other hand down to rub your clit. You buck your hips against his hand, only adding to your pleasure. He grins against your neck, picking up both the speed of his hips and fingers.

“Fuck fuck fuck…Billy… ya gonna make me cum…”

“Please cum baby. Cum on my cock fuck…”

The stagecoach begins to rock more. The heat pooling in your stomach builds and burns your core. You love the thrill of being intimate with Billy like this. The idea of someone finding you and him like this, walking in, while Billy is filling you up with pleasure. A few more thrusts and you’re finished. You clench down on his length, moan into his neck and cling onto him tight.

Soon enough, he’s spent himself, thrusting into you until he stops. His thick white cum coats the inside of your walls, filling you up in a new way. He stays in you for a moment, gazing into your eyes and catching his breath. He rests his sweaty forehead against your own, painting He kisses you softly, lips melting to your own.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” He whispers

You smile at his words, holding him tight. You never wanted this to end. From here on out you knew, it would be just you and Billy. No matter what.

꧁✵❈✵ ꧂