#it was actually pretty hard to come up with some of these because i want it to feel organic and not forced

[radioactive-alien-thing]

Wowz,im pretty early XD,Anyways uhhh,What are the survivors reactions when killer!Reader only becomes passive/non agressive when theyre favourite survivor is in the round?Even following them around and guiding them to medkits and bloxy colas,However when their not in the round they become EXTREMELY aggresive???

romantic if ya want:3

!! thank youuu so so much nonny for the first request!!! yay!!! this is so cute,,, i love this trope SO much… RRRAAH!!! cheers to the first post guys 🍻 by the way, i only chose a few survivors, so if you guys enjoy this maybe there’ll be a part two!!!

forsaken survivors w/ killer!reader who is only nice to them ❤︎

noob🥤

at first noob was very, very confused by your behavior. they mistook your mercy for a cruel trick to try and hurt them— but when they saw your passiveness around the other survivors, even when they tried provoking you? they started to grow… curious, rather than scared. it took a lot of time and effort to actually get to where you’re at now

considering all of the bloxy colas you’ve helped noob find, even medkits and other useful supplies, it’s no surprise that some of the other killers are starting to get annoyed by your favoritism for noob… but you just can’t help it, the spectre hasn’t COMPLETELY taken away all your humanity just yet. plus, you finally got to see them smile for once,, which was a strangely warming feeling.

most of the other survivors are… reasonably pretty terrified of you without noob there to pacify you, and that’s because of your less-than-gentle reputation,, but all you wanted to do was see your adorable favorite survivor!!! the others didn’t matter nearly as much, so why should you force yourself to treat them similarly?? though noob does get a little uneasy hearing the whispers around the campfire about the things you’ve done… it’s honestly a littleee hard for them to believe any of it. you just seem so different when they’re around. almost like you were just another survivor.

builderman 🧱

okay!!! so!! this one’s a little more complicated. builderman was never really scared of you, if anything he was more so intrigued. you weren’t like the others, ruthlessly aggressive and unrelenting. you were calm,, and almost… polite? and that just weirded him out a lot. his big question was simply, why? why not chase the innocent down, guard the generators, or even flinch when you’re stabbed. twice!! you didn’t fight back at all- he was skeptical. but builderman wasn’t afraid to come up and ask. still a little cautious, you know, just in case

your straightforwardness is what slowly made him start to trust you. maybe it was a mistake. maybe it was just a flicker of misplaced hope. because if you were so kind to him, and never laid a finger on the others, maybe… maybe he could save everyone. maybe they could all make it out. but when the others started whispering, warning builderman of what you were like when he wasn’t looking, how your disinterest shifted into a thirst for blood, he just couldn’t believe it. it didn’t make sense. and that was when it got dangerous. because he cared too much. far too much.

it put builderman in a very tough spot. he wanted to save everyone but you were such an anomaly. he knew you had nothing to gain from being so sweet to him, giving up easy kills just to let him walk free. so why would you go savage the moment his back was turned? obviously he didn’t want to lose the other survivors’ trust, but he didn’t want to lose yours, either. and, no, those sentries builderman sets up during your matches never really work. they’re always defunct. but nobody’s really caught on yet somehow.

chance 🎰

it was just his luck. a killer who latches onto him and becomes totally passive whenever he’s around… honestly? chance finds that amusing. maybe even a little flattering, considering how strong you are. but that didn’t mean he was totally comfortable, definelty not at first,, you were still on the other side. and that was a problem… then again, how much harm could a little chat with the weirdly friendly (and kinda cute) killer really do?

okay. welllll. turns out it was going to be KIND of a problem, because now you were practically clinging to him,, and it’s not like he was just gonna tell you to back off! chance sorta fed into it, actually. little flirty comments here and there, which usually caught you off guard. chance couldn’t understand how the others still didn’t trust you. to him, you were harmless, sickeningly sweet, even. the truth of it all was entirely obscured

and even when the other survivors pulled him aside to warn him about you, chance just laughed it off. you… bloodthirsty? and brutal? no way! honestly, they were probably just jealous. chance always had the best supplies, after all, thanks to you. which sort of gave him bragging rights. you had them right where you wanted.

[damsalindistress]

suguru “punishing” his younger gf!!

it’s gross, no disgusting even.

the way your panties are shoved in your mouth, you can taste your own arousal like some common whore. bent over the kitchen counter, your skirt lifted high up, blouse scattered on the floor with your bra along it.

“im sorry sugu—” you protest out, yet your voice is muffled. your baby hairs are sticking to your already sweaty forehead from the constant back and forth movement, meanwhile the rest of your hair was bundled up around suguru’s fist. “if you were truly sorry,” suguru grunts, pounding into your pussy harshly, pulling his shaft half way out before slamming it back inside your walls. “then you wouldn’t have behaved like that out there.” he delivers a spank to your ass with his calloused hand.

“treating me like i’m just some guy you fuck on the weekends,” suguru chuckles to himself at the thought. “thought you said you knew what you were getting into with me, pretty girl- don’t tell me you can’t handle being with an older man anymore…” he sighs dramatically almost.

“i’m disappointed in you.” you hated the way he sounds so genuine as he speaks, because as he spoke he was fucking you so deliciously it was like he was in love with you.(he is)

“say you’re sorry,” he says in a demanding tone, it wasn’t exactly stern like but you could hint that he was ‘upset’.

“i’m sorry-“ you apologize all sloppily, wet slapping sounds echoing in the kitchen and for a second that’s all your brain could focus on, the sounds. but to suguru that ‘apology’ wasn’t good enough, so he tugged on your hair, “more genuine slut. don’t tell me that’s all you can manage.” that tone of his makes everything hotter, he knew how much you loved being degraded as well. “i’m.. ah! i’m really sorry.. sugu’ i swear!!” you squealed, before he starts ruthlessly thrusting his body up into your cunt, his cock piercing your insides and hitting that perfect spot every. single. time.

for a minute you lost your voice, your mouth agape and unable to comprehend a single thought with the way his hand fell from your hair and was now holding your plushy waist with two hands, pulling you up and down on his incredible girth.

oh, and if your wondering how you got here, well you basically falsely introduced suguru to a friend of yours(who was a guy who definitely liked you and was around your age). to him it sounded like the way you introduced him was… ‘this is suguru but we’re just fucking’ when you actually said ‘this is suguru, my boyfriend’. it was also different because you both had an obvious age gap.

both of you guys knew it wasn’t that deep, it was more like you both just wanted to fuck hard- but he definitely let a lot of his possessiveness come out to play.

after that harsh.. moment, suguru came inside, watching his thick load leak out of your sopping cunt as he pulled out.

“let’s get you cleaned up.. yeah?” he hums, his tone going from upset and ‘disappointed’ in you, to loving. “mhhm,” you could feel his cum dripping down your thighs.

and after cleaning up you two watched a movie & cuddled !!!!

face mask time with suguru ˃` ⩌ ´˂ (after mind blowing sex!)

© damsalindistress - do not plagiarize / translate my work

i lob suguru geto

[starvrse]

THRESHOLD

pairing : daniela avanzini x fem!reader

summary : girl she’s ur baby daddy and yall argue then yall have sex 🥀

warnings : cursing, g!p daniela, baby trapping mention again…, smut ofc, dani sells drugs but it’s barely mentioned, she’s lowkey a deadbeat, probably more but i forgot

unnecessary bs : 4.9k words, i actually love bd dani

you slip the spoon into your daughter’s mouth just as the doorbell rings. your eyes flick to the door before you let out a tired sigh, pulling the spoon away and reaching for her bib.

“hm, i wonder who that could be.” you mutter, wiping the corner of her mouth. the doorbell rings again, then again, each press faster, louder, more obnoxious.

you roll your eyes. “jesus christ.” and then it hits and you groan. “fucking daniela.”

only she rings your doorbell like she’s trying to piss you off on purpose. like this is some kind of game and she always plays to win.

you storm over to the door and yank it open—and there she is. daniela avanzini, in all her smug, infuriating glory.

leaning against the frame like she owns the place. like she didn’t walk out three months ago after calling you “emotionally constipated” and slamming the door hard enough to rattle your dishes.

“hey, pretty.”

you deadpan. “stop ringing my damn doorbell like a child with impulse issues.”

she grins. “wow. not even a hi? missed you too.”

“what do you want?”

“i came to see my baby.”

your eyes narrow. you know she means danielle, but her eyes drag slow and deliberate from your face to your legs like she’s testing you, like she knows exactly what she’s doing.

“well, she just ate. you can come back when you learn how to act right.”

“cute. except you don’t make the rules around here.”

you scoff, stepping aside because arguing in front of danielle never ends well. not that daniela cares, she’s already sauntering past you like this is her home. like she didn’t give up custody time for a week straight because she was “figuring shit out.”

“you don’t live here anymore,” you snap.

“mm,” she hums, crouching beside danielle and lifting her into her arms like it’s second nature. she says something soft in spanish, probably about you, voice low and familiar like a secret she’s passing between them.

you slam the door shut behind you. “maybe she should know the truth about how you disappeared for two days and blamed it on your phone dying.”

“oh my god, are we seriously doing this again?”

“you show up, unannounced, ringing my doorbell like you’ve got no damn home training—what did you expect?”

“a kiss, maybe. a little gratitude for blessing your doorstep.”

“you’re not cute.”

she spins slowly with danielle in her arms, making her laugh. then casually, like it means nothing: “your mom texted me, by the way.”

you blink. “what?”

“she wanted to know if we were ‘working things out.’ i told her you were still mean as hell, so… probably not.”

your jaw clenches. “stop talking to my mom.”

“tell her to stop texting me then. she likes me more than you do.”

you grab one of danielle’s toys off the floor and throw it at her. she catches it one handed, grinning.

“you’re insufferable.”

“and you’re still letting me in.”

and when she walks to your fridge like it’s still hers, opens it, and says, “you got anything that isn’t expired this time or are we ordering again?”

you don’t say anything. just brush past her, straight into the kitchen with your jaw clenched and shoulders tight.

she walks back into the living room like she didn’t show up out of nowhere and hijack your evening. you don’t even look at her—you’re too busy slamming the cabinet door while pulling out a pan, too busy chopping vegetables like the cutting board personally wronged you.

“you cooking?” she asks, settling onto the floor with danielle still latched to her like a koala.

you slam the fridge shut. “shut up.”

she doesn’t. of course she doesn’t. she’s sitting cross legged on the floor now, danielle crawling into her lap with her little stuffed bunny in hand.

“look at this, she still loves me. she doesn’t even know what a deadbeat is.”

you whip around. “say that again and i’ll throw this knife at your head.”

she laughs. like she thinks you’re kidding.

“god, you’re always angry,” she says, tilting her head as danielle babbles in her lap. “you ever try not being so fucking bitter all the time?”

“i’m not bitter,” you snap. “i’m tired. tired of having to do everything by myself while you show up when it’s convenient and act like that makes you some saint.”

she goes quiet at that, just for a second.

but then she shrugs. “yet here you are. still cooking dinner like we’re a happy little family.”

“i’m not cooking for you,” you snap. “i’m making something for danielle.”

“she’s a baby.”

“she’ll have to eat real food eventually.”

“but not tonight.”

you whip around. “do you want me to throw this knife at you or what?”

daniela just smirks, leaning back on one arm while danielle plays with her hoodie string.

“you always get like this when i show up. it’s cute.”

“you think everything’s cute. you think breaking promises is cute. showing up three days late? cute. ignoring my calls? adorable. you think you can just walk back in like you’re supposed to be here—”

“i am supposed to be here.”

your hand freezes mid chop.

“don’t.”

she shrugs, unbothered, like she didn’t just throw a match on a gas leak.

“just saying. i’m her mom too.”

“yeah? then act like it.”

you toss the chopped vegetables into the pan harder than you need to and flick the stove on. the oil sizzles loud, and daniela flinches like she thought you were going to throw the whole pot at her. and honestly, so did you.

“you think i like doing this alone?” you mutter. “you think i get some kick out of waking up at 3am, warming bottles, dealing with teething and crying and you—”

“you never asked for help.”

“because every time i do, you disappear.”

daniela goes quiet for a second, lips pressed tight. danielle is babbling now, half to herself, half to her bunny, completely unaware of the tension thick in the air like smoke.

you stir the pan a little too aggressively and daniela finally stands up, brushing off her jeans and gently placing danielle in her little play mat nearby.

“i’m here now.”

you don’t look up.

“for how long?”

she doesn’t answer.

you keep cooking. you keep your eyes on the pan. you pretend you’re not already thinking about the moment she walks out again. pretend you don’t already have a backup bottle ready for when the food goes untouched. pretend you don’t care.

because someone has to keep the house running. someone has to make sure the baby eats, even if she’s only on purées. someone has to show up every day.

and it’s never daniela.

you finish cooking with your lips pressed into a tight line, throwing the kitchen towel over your shoulder like you’re running a restaurant and not dealing with your emotionally exhausting ex. you don’t bother plating it fancy—just toss the food on, grab a fork, and head to the dining table where daniela is already sitting like she’s waited all day for this.

danielle’s in her lap, happy as ever, gnawing on the corner of her bib like it’s the most delicious thing in the world. daniela’s got one arm around her and the other lazily scrolling through her phone until you set the plate down in front of her with a clink.

she looks up, smile already tugging at the corner of her mouth. “thank you, baby.”

you blink and stare at her. “yeah. you’re welcome.”

she grins. “i don’t get a kiss anymore?”

you scoff—not even a full laugh, just that sharp little sound people make when they’re done with the bullshit. like tch but from the soul “you’re lucky you got a plate.”

she smirks, pokes at her food. “you say that every time and still feed me like you love me.”

“because i love the baby. and she deserves a mom with energy, which i can’t have if i get arrested for murder.”

daniela hums like it’s sweet.

you grab your own plate and sit across from her, not bothering to make eye contact. danielle is squirming now, so daniela shifts her a little and keeps eating with one hand like it’s second nature.

you both eat in tense silence for a minute, only the clinking of forks and the occasional babble from danielle filling the room.

then daniela, mouth half full, “do you think she’s gonna be left handed like me or right handed like you?”

you pause mid bite and look at her like she’s actually lost her mind. “she’s barely even holding things right now.”

“yeah, but i read it’s genetic or whatever.”

you just shake your head. “do you have a real job yet?”

daniela glances up with zero shame. “define real.”

you put your fork down. “one that doesn’t involve getting arrested if you text the wrong number.”

“damn,” she says, biting into her food again. “so judgemental for someone who used to ride with me while i did drop offs.”

“yeah. and then i grew up.”

daniela raises an eyebrow, still chewing. “you say that like i’m out here selling kilos in the back of a church van.”

“i don’t know what you’re selling anymore, daniela. could be weed, could be someone’s soul, could be baby formula—”

“okay wow, relax. it’s not that serious.”

“no, you don’t take it seriously. which is the problem. you have a whole daughter now, and you’re still out here treating your life like a gta mission.”

daniela chuckles, leaning back in the chair, arm wrapped lazily around danielle like she’s unfazed. “you always talk like i’m some wanted criminal. i’m just doing what i know.”

“yeah? well what you know is gonna get you locked up. and then who’s left picking up the pieces? oh wait—me. again.”

“you’re so dramatic.”

“no, you’re just stupid.”

daniela laughs at that, like it’s cute, like you’re flirting. “you called me stupid but still cooked for me. which one of us is really down bad?”

you slam your fork on the table, and danielle flinches in her lap. you immediately soften your voice but your words are still sharp.

“i didn’t cook for you, daniela. i cooked so our daughter doesn’t grow up watching me lose my mind because her other mom thinks slinging weed is a personality trait.”

daniela looks at you for a moment, finally not laughing, just watching.

“i’m doing what i can,” she says. “it’s not like people are lining up to hand me a nine to five with my record.”

you cross your arms. “so that’s it? just give up? keep doing shit that puts you at risk and maybe, if you’re lucky, you’ll be out in time for her kindergarten graduation?”

“at least i’m trying.”

“trying would be showing up on time. trying would be calling when you can’t make it. trying would be putting her first for once and not whatever hustle you’ve got going on that week.”

daniela presses her lips together, and you can tell she’s about to say something mean. something that’ll cross the line. she shifts danielle in her lap instead, brushing crumbs off her little onesie.

you stand up and grab your plate.

“you think being here now makes up for everything? it doesn’t. you don’t get points for showing up late and calling it love.”

daniela mutters, “you sound like your mom.”

you freeze. just for a second, then you nod slowly. “good. because someone in this house has to act like a grown up.”

daniela exhales a laugh, mean and quiet. “right. now you’re better than me ‘cause you microwave baby food and follow a bedtime schedule?”

you narrow your eyes. “i’m better than you because i show up.”

“nah,” she says, sitting back in the chair like she’s getting real comfortable. “you’re just mad the lifestyle stopped benefitting you.”

you squint. “what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“don’t act brand new, yn. you weren’t complaining when my ‘gta missions’ were paying your rent. your groceries. that ‘push present’ you pretend came from your savings—yeah, okay.”

your blood boils.

“you think this is about money?”

“no, i think it’s about the fact that you were perfectly fine with it when you were comfortable. now that i’m not handing you wads of cash and showing up with takeout in the middle of the night, suddenly you’re holier than thou.”

you’re already walking away. grabbing the plates, scooping up danielle gently from her lap, not even looking at her.

“yn,” daniela calls out like she didn’t just say the most out of pocket shit.

you stop in the hallway. danielle’s head is on your shoulder, eyes fluttering. bedtime.

daniela walks up behind you like she forgot who she’s talking to. like everything can just be smoothed over with a joke and a smile.

“don’t touch me.”

you don’t raise your voice. you just say it low and calm, sharper than anything else you’ve said tonight.

daniela freezes with her hand halfway out, fingers curling back slowly.“yn—”

“you really stood in my house, in front of our daughter, and tried to flex about doing illegal shit like it makes you some kind of provider. like that’s love.”

daniela’s quiet.

you glance over your shoulder, just once.

“you don’t get to touch me. not after that.”

you don’t even look at her again. just shift danielle higher in your arms and head straight to her room, your breath tight the whole walk down the hall.

her room is quiet, soft. the nightlight glows pale purple in the corner, and everything smells like lavender and baby lotion. you hum a little as you set her down, not a lullaby or anything sweet, just something low to keep yourself from spiraling.

she stares up at you with heavy eyes, her fingers curling in the sleeve of your sweater like she doesn’t want you to go yet.

“it’s okay,” you whisper, brushing her hair back. “i’m right outside.”

she yawns, and your chest twists. because none of this is her fault. none of it.

you wait until she fully drifts off before slipping out of the room and shutting the door with that soft click you’ve perfected by now. then you head straight to the kitchen.

you don’t even sit. just start rinsing off plates and stacking them in the sink, sleeves rolled up, sponge in hand, water too hot.

you’re halfway through scrubbing when you hear her behind you.

you don’t acknowledge her. you don’t have to.

her hands are on your waist before you even feel her move.

arms sliding around you, slow and familiar, like they never forgot the shape of you. her chest is pressed up against your back, arms curling slow and deliberate around your waist like she’s got any right.

“dani,” you say, jaw tight. “don’t.”

she doesn’t move. she just shifts closer, one hand sliding up beneath the hem of your sweater like it’s second nature. her hips roll forward, and you feel her, heavy and shameless.

“i missed you…” she mumbles, lips brushing just behind your ear.

“and i miss when you knew boundaries.” you stop scrubbing the plate in your hand, but you don’t move. “get off me.”

she doesn’t.

just keeps rubbing against you, slow, teasing. hard, bold, like she’s always been.

daniela chuckles, low and smug. “you say that, but you still made sure i ate. still looked out.”

you rinse the plate off, set it down in the rack.

“i wish you would stop saying that. i cooked for danielle.”

“she’s on baby formula, yn.”

you grab another plate. keep scrubbing. “then i guess i just felt generous. don’t read too deep.”

she leans in again, a little closer. “nah. you don’t do anything unless you feel something.”

you slam the last plate into the rack with a clatter. four dishes. four chances to calm down, yet none of them worked.

you stare at her. curly hair, faded hoodie, chain still glinting under the kitchen light like she’s some kind of walking temptation. like your worst mistake wrapped in silk and bad decisions.

and yet—your body still remembers her. still reacts like muscle memory. you toss the sponge into the sink. “go home, daniela.”

she tilts her head. “this is home.”

you finish drying your hands and toss the towel on the counter. daniela’s still standing behind you, arms crossed now, quiet for once.

you don’t even glance at her as you walk off. “if you’re staying, don’t hover.”

“wasn’t hovering.” she mutters, following anyway.

the living room light’s off when you pass through. you don’t stop. just keep walking toward your bedroom like your mind’s already decided for you and your body’s catching up.

you hear her steps behind you, slow, confident, and annoying.

“so this where we pretend we’re not mad at each other?” she says, leaning against your doorframe.

“no,” you say, pulling off your sweater. “this is where i pretend you’re not stupid, for the sake of my sanity.”

daniela whistles low. “you say that with your whole back out.”

you shoot her a look over your shoulder. “close the door.”

she does. with a smirk.

you crawl into bed, not looking at her, not inviting her in either. just scrolling through your phone, blanket pulled up, pretending you’re chill.

daniela doesn’t ask permission. she never does. she just drops her hoodie too, like she owns the space, then slips off her jeans and slides in on the other side of the bed.

the mattress dips, and the air shifts. you don’t say anything. she shifts closer behind you, not touching yet, but there. “you really hate me, huh?” she asks, voice low in the dark.

you shrug, still not looking. “not enough, apparently.”

“you still looked out,” she says, quieter. “even when i didn’t deserve it.”

you sigh, and it’s heavier than you want it to be.

“don’t make this sweet. you’re not sorry. you’re just horny and bored.”

she laughs into your neck, bold enough to kiss your shoulder. “can’t it be both?”

you roll your eyes, but don’t move away.

“you’re so annoying.”

“and you’re so warm.” she says, wrapping an arm around your waist. she presses closer, hips flush against your ass now, and you feel her—hard, steady, smug.

you suck in a sharp breath. “don’t start.”

“you already did,” she says, voice low, mouth against your skin. “soon as you let me in here.”

you close your eyes, clenching your jaw.

daniela’s not even dressed for the night. she’s dressed for this. oversized tee clinging to her shoulders, boxers riding low on her hips, thighs warm against the back of yours as she closes the space between you like it’s nothing. like it’s always been this easy.

you feel her hand trail up under your shirt, slow fingers dragging along your stomach like she’s relearning you.

“i said don’t start.” you whisper, breath catching.

she kisses the back of your neck, lips soft but her hips anything but. she rolls against you once, slow enough to make your eyes flutter.

“but you never mean that…” she murmurs.

you clench your thighs together, already annoyed at how your body’s responding, how it always responds to her.

“dani…”

“hm?”

“i’m still pissed at you.”

she hums like she likes that. like that’s part of the thrill. “then be pissed. i won’t stop you.”

her hand slips lower, brushing the hem of your shorts, teasing the waistband, knuckles grazing skin.

“you’re so full of shit.” you whisper, voice shaking.

she presses a kiss to your jaw now, slow and soft. “and you’re so wet for someone who hates me.”

you gasp, turning to glare at her, but the moment your faces meet, she leans in and kisses you.

it’s not sweet, it’s desperate. teeth clashing, lips hot, like she’s trying to remind you of every reason you ever forgave her.

and god, it’s working.

you tug at her shirt, dragging her closer without thinking, nails digging into her side.

she groans against your mouth. “fuck. missed you.”

you bite her lip. “shut up.”

her boxers are pressing into you now, nothing between you but flimsy fabric and bad decisions.

“then shut me up.” she says.

you don’t answer her, you just pull her in harder.

the kiss turns hungrier, sloppier. your fingers slip under her shirt, dragging up over warm skin, feeling every flex of muscle as she shifts above you. her hand finally slips into your shorts, and you hiss at the contact.

“fuck—” you whisper, half a warning, half a plea.

daniela just smirks into your mouth, fingers sliding through your folds like she owns you. like she’s been waiting for this exact moment since the last time she left your bed.

“you’re always talkin’,” she murmurs, breath hot against your lips. “but your pussy never lies.”

you moan, sharp and helpless, as she circles your clit slow, teasing like she’s got all night.

“shut up.” you pant, hips rocking into her hand.

“make me.”

so you do.

you pull her shirt up and over her head, tossing it somewhere behind you, dragging your nails down her chest as she groans and leans in again. her boxers are straining, pressed firm against your thigh, and you grind up into her without shame now, every ounce of anger melting into heat.

“take ‘em off,” you whisper, tugging at the waistband.

“say please.”

you glare. “i’d rather die.”

she grins, cocky and flushed, and kicks them off anyway, letting them hit the floor as she shifts between your thighs.

and god—you feel her.

she pulls your shorts off and slides her cock against you, slow and heavy, teasing your entrance with that unbearable smugness she always wears when she’s right.

“missed this pussy,” she murmurs, dragging it up your slit, coating herself in you. “you still grip like you need me.”

you wrap your legs around her waist.

“less talking, more proving.”

she doesn’t waste another second.

she pushes in slow—too slow—and your back arches off the bed, the stretch making your breath catch in your throat.

“mm—fuck,” you whisper, legs already tightening around her waist.

daniela groans, head dropping into the crook of your neck as she bottoms out, hips pressed flush.

“tight as ever,” she mutters, hand gripping your thigh as she pulls back just enough to drag herself through you again. “like your pussy missed me.”

you grab her jaw and tilt her face up, eyes burning into hers. “shut the fuck up.”

“can’t,” she grins, rolling her hips in slow, deliberate strokes. “you always fuck me better when i talk too much.”

you hate that she’s right.

you’re trying to stay quiet—stoic, unreadable—but she knows your body like scripture. every stroke deeper than the last, her pace measured, like she wants to draw the words out of you.

and then she says it.

voice low. dirty. cruel.

“you want another baby, huh?”

your eyes snap open.

“w-what?”

she grinds deeper, cock sliding all the way in, her pelvis flush with yours. she doesn’t pull out right away. just stays there, buried inside, pressing her weight into you.

“that’s what this is, right?” she whispers against your jaw. “you keep letting me in. keep letting me fuck you raw. you tryna trap me again?”

your stomach flips. your nails dig into her back.

“you’re disgusting.” you breathe, even as your hips buck up into her.

“but your cunt is so greedy,” she says, finally starting to move again, slow and filthy. “gripping like it wants it. like you want it.”

you bite your lip so hard it stings, trying not to give her the satisfaction of the moan building in your throat.

“say it,” she growls, pace picking up. “you want me to fill you up again, huh? get you all swollen and pretty with my kid—”

you whimper, legs locking tighter around her waist.

“shut up, daniela.”

she grabs your chin, forcing you to look at her.

“then tell me to stop.”

but you don’t.

you can’t.

you just stare at her, flushed and breathing heavy, hating how much you love her like this.

“shit.” you whisper.

daniela smirks, rolling her hips faster now, her cock dragging along that spot that makes your legs shake. “that’s what i thought.”

daniela’s strokes get deeper—more deliberate. not rushed. just ruthless. she’s taking her time now, fucking you like she’s trying to build something unbearable. and you’re barely holding it together.

your hand flies to your mouth, teeth digging into your knuckles as your body jerks beneath her.

“shhh,” she whispers, lips brushing your ear. “you gonna wake our baby.”

and it’s the way she says our that makes your stomach flip again. like she’s still clinging to the idea of family. like she wants to.

you don’t respond, not with words. you just claw at her back, trying to pull her deeper, grind against her harder, chase the high that keeps slipping just out of reach.

daniela moves one hand between you, thumb pressing against your clit in tight, slow circles that make your toes curl.

you let out a sharp, guttural sound before you slap your hand back over your mouth.

she laughs, breathless and smug. “you’re so fuckin’ loud.”

“shut up.” you hiss, your voice trembling.

“nah. you gotta learn how to whisper please, baby.”

your thighs start shaking, whole body tensing as her cock pounds into you, her pace not frantic but intentional—like she knows exactly how close you are and wants to keep you right there, strung out on the edge.

you turn your face into the pillow, biting down hard, but a moan still rips out of you, quiet and wrecked.

daniela groans, hips stuttering. “shit—you always this wet when you hate me?”

“you’re a piece of shit.” you whisper, broken and breathless.

“oh yeah, i love when you call me that.”

you grab her hair and yank her down, kissing her like it’ll shut her up, like it’ll make this whole thing less filthy, less real. but it just makes it worse.

she ruts into you harder, losing her rhythm for a second, groaning into your mouth like she’s starting to lose her edge too.

you feel it building again—tight, hot, impossible to ignore.

her thumb’s still working your clit, her thrusts hitting perfectly now, your legs wrapped around her, bodies locked so close it’s like you’re trying to disappear into her.

your breath catches and your eyes flutter.

“daniela—” you gasp, barely able to get it out.

she kisses your cheek, then your jaw, then your mouth again, sloppy and deep.

“i got you,” she whispers. “cum for me.“

and that’s it.

your body locks up, hips jerking, walls clenching around her so tight she groans out loud and slams into you one last time, staying buried deep as you fall apart underneath her.

it’s messy. breathless. muffled by your hand and her mouth and the sheer desperation of trying not to cry out.

daniela bites your shoulder, whole body trembling as she finally lets go too, spilling inside you with a choked-out moan that she tries—and fails—to keep quiet.

you both stay there, clinging. breathing heavy. drenched in sweat and bad decisions.

the baby monitor in the corner stays mercifully silent, for now.

you’re still catching your breath, head pressed to her shoulder, heart thudding way too loud in your chest.

daniela shifts just enough to look at you, her hand still lazily tracing shapes into your thigh like she didn’t just rearrange your guts.

you don’t speak right away. neither does she.

you glance at her chest rising and falling. sweaty. flushed.

you hate how pretty she looks like this. how soft her eyes get right after.

“you okay?” she whispers finally, voice hoarse.

you roll your eyes, but it’s weak. “you askin’ now?”

“yeah,” she says, smirking a little. “just making sure i didn’t break you.”

“please.” you scoff. “you wish.”

she chuckles low and leans in to kiss your cheek. just a soft little press of her lips that makes your chest tighten before you can stop it.

you don’t pull away, but you don’t lean in either.

“i missed this.” she says, after a beat.

you exhale through your nose. “you missed fucking me.”

“no.” her voice is quieter now. “i mean, yeah. but also…us.”

you stare at the ceiling.

“you think fucking me erases all the shit you’ve done?”

she goes quiet for a second.

“no. but i think it means you still care.”

you look at her finally, eyes half lidded, mouth tugged down.

“if i didn’t care,” you murmur, “i wouldn’t still be this mad.”

she nods, fingers gently brushing your side, like she’s calming herself more than you.

“i’m trying,” she says softly. “i know i fuck up. i’m not gonna lie and say i’m perfect. but i’m still here, aren’t i?”

“barely,” you say under your breath. but you don’t really mean it.

she wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you a little closer, her nose brushing your temple.

“she’s beautiful,” she whispers. “our daughter.”

you feel your chest tighten all over again.

“yeah,” you say, just as soft. “she is.”

and then you both go quiet again, listening to the faint hum of the baby monitor, the sound of her soft, even breathing from the next room.

daniela kisses your hair, and you close your eyes. for now, the fight can wait.

take a shot every time yn says “shut up” like damn, also the header is so bunz bc i didn’t feel like looking for pictures 💔

[lcriedlastnight]

a stain on the kitchen floor

○ lando norris x sportstherapist!reader

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : w/c 1.7k. this was so fun to write actually. i'm shit at pacing that's why i haven't written a multi-part story yet so if it's bad don't tell me. also i’m too lazy to proofread these days.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

"i know it's totally normal in the world on formula one, but to me? i think it's crazy. i wouldn't be able to switch up my emotions and feelings like that with some of my closest friends." lando looks over at her from his chair, eyes awfully bright for what was what she considered one of their more heavier sessions.

lando didn't know how he had gotten himself into this situation... well he did, he was just so embarrassed about it! it's not like he would know that her pretty eyes and soothing voice would be just the thing he need to see and hear first thing on a monday morning - especially after a race weekend. it didn't even need to be a bad weekend for him to want to see her and talk you through the weekend from his point of view. when lando realised that, he realised that he fancied her.

forcing himself to zone back in, (he felt bad for always zoning out during sessions. she thought that his mind must've been a battle field but in reality he just couldn't concentrate with her around him, caring words flying around his head and making himself believe that she wasn't asking because it was her job but because her genuinely cared about his mental well-being.) his eyes jump back onto her figure sitting on the chair across from him.

"it's like you said, i'm used to it. we all are." lando shrugs, something he felt like he did a lot in these short ten minute sessions. it has her sighing again before jotting something down again in her little pink notebook.

"lando, i've told you before, you need to stop shugging things like this off. i can tell it bothers you so just tell me how it makes you feel." she tells the boy, a little annoyed but in a second any trace of it is gone and she's back to her usual upbeat self. lando's heart stutters at her words. simp.

"it is a little hard sometimes, but it comes with the job. you gotta be mentally strong to do this too." lando explains like to her like they haven't already had the exact same conversation a few sessions ago. all she does is nod her head, appreciating that he was trying to open up and let her in. before she could dig any deeper though, her timer went off, signalling that their ten minutes were up. lando groans. loudly.

"why're you annoyed? you hate talking about your feelings." she points out and it has the driver turning red and stuttering out some bullshit answer. if she hadn't noticed his little crush by now then lando thinks he might have to tell zak to find someone a little better.

★・・・・・・★

much to zak and oscar’s surprise lando had been attending the sessions weekly, arriving earlier than he ever had in his entire career at mclaren. this didn’t make much sense to them but who were they to judge? at least lando was finally talking about his feelings, regularly, to someone who could help him process them correctly.

oscar always went second every monday. he would watch as lando skipped out of the room, gracing him with one of those cheesy smiles that he was famous for. sometimes oscar forgot about lando’s hesitance the first day because there was no way she was this good to make him switch from being therapy’s number one hater to its biggest fan. she hadn’t even been here a month yet!

oscar was seeing the same girl and he, in the nicest way possible, did not think she was anything special. she was just a girl who tried to get to cold at steel drivers to talk about their emotions. easy enough right? oscar was starting to think that she had maybe coaxed this good attitude towards therapy out of him some way but his mind was quickly changed just before their third ever session with her. it was the most put together oscar had even seen lando on a monday morning, ever! it was like he was doing a paddock walk. that’s when oscar realised that maybe lando’s excitement towards these sessions wasn’t getting to talk about his feelings but maybe because he was talking to her. not to blow smoke up his own arse but oscar wasn’t stupid.

★・・・・・・★

the session after jeddah was particularly difficult for her. in her entire time with lando it hadn’t been too difficult to get him to speak out about how the previous race had gone but as they got further into the season, she noticed every time how it was a little bit harder each time to get him to open up to her.

“lando?” she says softly. they had been sitting in silence for half the session. this had been their worst one yet. she had no idea why this was hurting her so much, maybe she was just too empathetic and felt whatever pain lando had felt.

lando stays silent but looks up at her with so much hurt in his eyes it makes her avoid his gaze as for the first time with lando, she felt a little uncomfortable. it was literally her job to comfort people when they were struggling so why was this time so fucking difficult?

“the session is nearly finished.” is all she can say.

“right.” lando nods.

“i know this was a harder session today but i’m proud of you, you didn’t even need to show up and you did which shows so much progress from our first one.” her words were filled with a sincerity lando hadn’t heard in a long while.

“can i ask you for something?” lando asks. the most he’s spoken this session, she jumps at the opportunity to help him feel even the slightest bit better.

“of course, that’s what i’m here for.”

lando hesitates for. few beats before he’s standing up from his chair and walking towards hers.

“can i have a hug?”

she’s taken aback but she doesn’t let it show as she opens her arms without hesitation. this may be a little unprofessional but that was the last thing she was thinking of right now. if this what was going to make him feel better then she would hug him until her arms went numb. that’s not unprofessional though! it’s just because she wants to help all of her patients. she would do the same for oscar…

lando lets himself relax for the first time since saturday. he lets himself breathe in her perfume and what he thinks is some kind of flowery shampoo. the mix of the two makes him lightheaded in the best way possible.

“i’m sorry for not saying anything.” lando breaks the silence first.

“you don’t have to apologise. i’m here for you no matter what you want to do. i’ve already told you that we don’t even have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” she comforts, hand now running up and down his back in a soft trail of warmth.

“i do want to. it’s just.. hard to break habit i guess. and now we don’t have any time to.” lando confesses, her heart simultaneously bursting with pride and hurt.

“i’m sure oscar wouldn’t mind if we push his session back for this week.” she offers.

lando moves his head from on top of hers in surprise.

“really? you would do that for me?”

she doesn’t answer, instead heading to the door to ask the aussie sitting outside waiting for her. this is professional, all she wants is for lando to get his feelings out.

once lando rants and gets out every single thought and feeling he had over the weekend and she offers her best advice, she tells him something that she hopes sticks with him for the rest of the season.

“we both know that you are capable of this. you are a world class driver in an amazing car that we know you can drive i just don’t want your downfall to be your mind. it’s amazing but you let it hurt you too much. don't let your mind make you feel like you aren't worthy of this. you aren't just a stain on someone's kitchen floor, okay?"

lando only nods in understanding before standing from the chair again, you rise again to stand beside him. instead if asking this time, he just pulls you into another hug, this one feels tighter than the last but you don’t complain. no, you smile into it and weirdly repress the urge to press a kiss on his shoulder. okay, that’s not at all professional.

★・・・・・・★

later on, before the workday for her ends, she finds herself reaching for her notebook. she didn't write down everything he said, she would be there all day with the way he spoke to her these days. it was just things that she felt she would want to circle back on in later sessions, she did it with every client she has, oscar's notes sat a little emptier a divider away. but there was something different about lando's notes that she didn't even realise that she had done until she was reviewing after that session.

she flicks to the divider with his name on it and gets to today's notes.

likes to unwind after race by watching an adam sandler film.

okay, that's still on the professional side. nothing too wrong with that, it's good to have fun and easy ways to decompress, especially as an f1 driver, she tells herself.

doesn't like sushi.

that's... not professional but not weird to write down? she questions herself in her head. she remembers the conversation in her head and can't help the smile that creeps up onto her face at the memory. she should not be smiling right now but that small smile turns into a full on beaming grin as what she had wrote next.

smells like that one cologne from armani.

she can't even remember writing that. her smile drops in seconds, thinking that this was getting creepy. why had she written that? she was going to have to start paying more attention to what she was writing in her sessions with lando. she seemed like a fucking stalker.

she snaps the book shut and shoves it back in it's drawer. it's like this was the push she needed to get moving and get home. she gathers her stuff from her 'temporary' office and throws on her coat, it was getting warmer woking but not warm enough to forgo a jacket of some sort. as she was walking out to the car park she passed by the trophy cabinet and about a million pictures of lando smiling.

she had to get a grip.

[rottenraccoons]

hi there! i know you've said before that oleander and francesco's routes could release either separately or together- can i ask what the current plan is, if there is one?

We actually talked about this pretty seriously recently and we've decided to split Oleander and Francesco's releases. I'll preface this by saying: everyone is okay, we're all dealing with life's slings and arrows as they come (and they have come!) but no one is in an emergency situation to force this change. I wanna talk our reasoning since this is an about-face on our earlier plans, but since that's gonna be some chunky-ass paragraphs, I'll pop it under a readmore. The TL;DR is that Oleander's second chapter will be coming out first, with Francesco to follow, and both are planned to be released in 2025.

So, we haven't talked about this explicitly because it's hard to chat about this without sounding like we're throwing someone under the bus, but reading between the lines of our monthly updates you might've picked up on the fact that I (Violet) have just made more and quicker progress in script-writing than Tobi.

This isn't a question of skill or dedication to the project; Tobi adores Obscura, and y'all have seen her writing! What she does have is a contractual obligation that only allows her to put a small number of hours into Obscura per month, whereas I have a lot of control over my schedule and no such contractual issues.

The end result is that Oleander's second chapter (which isn't done, but is through the major bottleneck of the writing phase) is going to be done a fair bit sooner than Francesco's. We love you all to the ends of the Earth for being so understanding about our release schedule, and we always keep in mind that Obscura must first and foremost be something we enjoy working on. But there's still some pressure on us to release chapters as soon as we can, and sitting on a completed chapter doesn't feel good.

We want Obscura's updates to go out sooner; more frequent updates are good for us getting a sense of progress, they're good for us in a business sense, and it just feels better in general. Oleander's second chapter going out sooner will release a lot of the pressure on us, and especially on completing Francesco's second chapter.

Here's what that means for you: we're still planning to be finished with Chapter Two in 2025. Oleander's second chapter will be coming out first, and as soon as we are confident we'll hit our planned release date we'll let you know. Francesco will come later in the year, and once we're certain about release dates we'll let you know that one, too.

And for anyone who's wondering about it: Mugi still wants to do a Oleander & Francesco image to go with the Cirrus & Keir one, and it would come with Francesco's second chapter to celebrate the completion of Chapter Two.

I know this isn't the ideal release plan for everyone (it obviously wasn't our first pick, either), so thank you so much for being understanding, and thank you to everyone who has been supporting us so far. We could not have gotten this far without your enthusiasm for this project, and we're so grateful for every one of you.

[that-smallinjured-bowylamb]

Tbh, I wanna write smth tmrw

Like, I wanna see more NRC vs RSA with the MC being in the middle of it, and also may or may not have been the cause of it all, I SOOO WANT SOMEOME TO WRITE IT.

Like it doesn't matter if the relationship between the character's and reader's are vaguely established whether it's platonic or romantic, like. All I want rn, is more rivalry.

Where the reader is neutral and doesn't seem to be on either sides (but more likely leaning to NRC/RSA whatever the reader prefers), and is slightly biased but won't show it. Like I want a normal reader to just be pulled by the arms metaphorically and figuratively speaking. Like, some random ahh RSA prince (or any good/side character) just falls inlove (or saw reader and made assumptions they could be trapped or smth) and wanted to help the damsel in distress (but it's just stress from assignments and homework). And a whole brawl starts out and the staffs can't do shit bc it's between their students to deal with, but then somehow the headmaster of both prestigious schools, somehow got warped into the situation but are now handling it in their adult ways bc RSA staff vs NRC staff sounds so cool to me rn. Like- I want to see a parental figure and an absent parental figure confront each other. While their students are like: RSA student vs NRC student. And so on. Then reader is like chilling with popcorn in hand (or any of your favorite dish) and is just in the background (this section is for platonic reader and main cast)

But.... on the other hand...

Romantic route would be such a mess. Preferably, I'd like to think that they've yet to confess to reader but also yearn for them in some way, where it feels and sounds eternal, and maybe that emotional turmoil bc they are so emotionally constipated they can't express their feelings normally. But then the RSA students just HAD to ruin it by barging into their campus grounds and taking someone that is clearly not theirs to take. This sets up a shit ton of emotions boiling over and making the headmage worry so much to the point he even tried to help. Because either 1. The reader is probably a personal therapist and a local school crush on campus that everyone wants to have a future with, but also is the very sole reason why their sanity is still intact, because of reader's (either reluctant or not) hospitality and 'kindness' (act of kindness) or 2. Reader is still their emotional support BUT the reader has a crush on THEM and it was pretty obvious that the prefect loves (twst character) that even a blind person can see it and a deaf person can hear a declaration of an obvious lovesick fucker.

So back to platonic route, is that all their friends want them back because where tf is our problem-solver/local chaotic bastard going? No, tf you ain't going to that whitewashed and fed-rainbow version of their school. Come tf back.

[PLATONIC ROUTE]

NRC guys: give the prefect back.

RSA guys: No! You've done enough you villains! You shall not torment this poor soul no longer!

NRC guys:...a declaration of war, I see.

Reader: *doing something cuz idk what you guys do in a situation like this. For me, I'd feel overwhelmed and cry.*

[ROMANTIC ROUTE]

NRC guys: you've picked the wrong person, listen, dude, they're doing fine in our school. And please, for the sake of the sevens. DON'T touch them like that.

RSA guys: How about, no? You nefarious villains should be forbidden to touch a divine maiden like them! You evil-doers shouldn't even deserve to live! (Okay, maybe excluding Neige and Che'nya out of this, since I find it hard to imagine them saying this :>)

NRC guys:...so you've chosen war? Let our beloved prefect go so they can choose on their own, they have their own preferences, so I kindly ask of you, stop projecting your delusions on someone you barely know of.

Reader:*Maybe just watching this whole shit go down, as they are being thrown back and forth, switching schools so very often it actually makes them want to throw up. Personally, I'd crash out and slap each of the boys, especially talking abt RSA and some of the annoying NRC students. Like, bro, let me rest, chill?*

OR OR OR!!!

Maybe there is a very delusional (but sly) prince that is neither from RSA or NRC? And that, there are other schools that had heard about the Ramshackle Prefect. And is also vying for them as well???? Wouldn't it be so cool if the reader could at least pull a hot madame??? Or like a princess academy, where not all of them are necessarily girl likers (if reader is fem) or boy likers (if reader is male) like, the reader could be anyone and they still pull. (I want hot women please give me a chance 🙏🙏🙏 *glances for a quick second at most of the twsted fem OC fanarts I've seen recently.*)

Like, can someone write it down, or should I do it?

[alillenn]

I feel like I'm the only person who doesn't headcanon Jimmy and Curly as childhood friends. Idk why but I see them as meeting later in life as adults. Maybe it's that Curly says "I've known him for a long time," instead of something like "I've known him forever," or "I've known him my whole life," or something along those lines. I just think Curly would say something to allude to an even bigger chunk of time that they've known each other if that were the case, but maybe that's just how my brain works.

I think they'd be in their mid to late 30s with Curly being the older one by a few years when canon takes place and probably in their early 20s when they meet for the first time.

I think the way they meet is something like a mutual friend introduces them. They do share a friend group so that's not unlikely. Jimmy is standoffish and intimidating because he's never been good at meeting new people, and who was this dork that his friend was trying to introduce him to? In reality, Curly is way cooler than Jimmy and he can feel that. It makes him insecure about his place in the friend group.

Eventually, Jimmy realizes Curly isn't too bad. They even become closer friends with each other than either of them were with the mutual friend that introduced them.

Curly's surprisingly good at handling Jimmy's irrational thought process when he's having a bad day. He's a grounding force that can absorb the strays that Jimmy throws at him and guide him toward something more productive. To an extent, of course. Jimmy also knows how to hurt someone with surgical precision that even Curly has no defenses for. Jimmy knows when he goes too far, though, and has his ways of apologizing. None of which ever include the words "I'm sorry," of course, but Curly is generous enough to read between the lines. More generous than Jimmy deserves sometimes.

Jimmy may not be great with words, but when Curly can't muster the strength to get out of bed or leave the house, Jimmy has no problem hanging out on his couch or at the foot of his bed just to keep him some company. He knows what it's like to want to crawl into a hole and not come out, and sometimes another person just existing around you in silence is enough to help you snap out of it.

Both of them drink and smoke pretty heavily, and they enable each other horribly in that way. Constant shot challenges and trying to out-drink each other. Weekends become a blur from 5 pm Friday night to 6 am Monday morning. They grow out of this for the most part by their late 20s but not before both of them spend a night in the drunk tank and Jimmy loses his license once.

Curly is the first one to clean up. He wants something more out of life than his current reality. Luckily for him, he meets a recruiter for a long haul space freighter company who's hiring and offers (unpaid) on-the-job training, no college degree required! What an opportunity!

It's hard, being away from everything you've ever known for months on end, traveling to planets and space stations you never get to actually see for customers you never get to know carrying unknown cargo that must be valuable, because it's protected better than your own sleeping quarters.

There's a distance between Curly and Jimmy the first time he returns. Their friends throw a party, and Jimmy is genuinely happy to see him again, even if he is pissed that he decided to leave for some stupid job. Things are almost like they were before. Almost. Curly doesn't drink as much, and he doesn't smoke at all, not wanting to get addicted again before his next mission and all that.

It's like Jimmy's meeting him for the first time again. Sure he's still the same in the ways that matter, but... he's different. He's changed. And Jimmy hasn't.

Things never quite go back to how they were, but nothing ever does, right? They're both in their 30s now, they can't keep living like they're 25. It's a miracle neither of them ended up with a kid amongst all the other dumb shit they've done. Curly's always been a romantic, waiting until he finds "the one," whatever that means, before he ditches the condoms. And Jimmy's sperm count is too low to make unprotected sex a meaningful risk. Juvenile behavior aside, they still make the most of the time that they do get together.

It's during one of these "off seasons" that Jimmy isn't able to pretend. He got fired about a month or two ago, and his unemployment is going to dry up soon. A lightbulb goes off in Curly's head. Turnover is pretty high at Pony Express, and another crewmember just quit after this most recent mission ended.

It takes a lot of convincing and breaking through Jimmy's reinforced walls, but Curly finally persuades his best friend to join him. Living on a spaceship is better than living on the streets. For the first time in years, they'll get to see each other more than a few times every other year. Who knows, they'll be seeing each other every day, maybe they'll even get sick of each other.

Just because Curly's co-captain now doesn't mean his best friend can jump the line. Jimmy has to climb the ladder the same as everyone else did. But connections do matter in this business, and Curly has always vouched for his friend. It's only a few more years before Curly gets the captain's seat, and he has just the person in mind to fill the chair to his left.

[lizardho]

I also REALLY wanna emphasize that part of the reason our stories are so weird and funny and whatever is because babs and I were tenaciously curious about EVERYTHING and we got REALLY into what we liked. And we got really into storytelling because we love stories, because stories are part of our upbringing and our cowboy heritage, and because they make more sense than real life. And one day I made the mistake (I say this jokingly because it’s actually a really good memory now) of telling my dad that I wanted to learn to write my stories. My dad, who had worked 12-hour swing shifts at the E.R. for my entire life up to that point, felt sad that his job had limited his time with us, and he put his whole pussy into making me a writer. He spent two weeks spending every spare second of his day looking into how to be a better writer. And one day, two or three weeks after I had told him that, he comes to me and tells me that he’s going to support my dream of being an author. And he tasked me with writing a LOT of stuff. Any story I made up, any thought or opinion I had, he asked me to write it down and then he gave me feedback on it. The same thing, or something similar at least, happened to Babs, fwiw.

This is the source of many of my happiest, best memories with my parents, and this was also REALLY annoying as a kid. I’d wanna tell my dad about the story I just made up with my l’il lego guys or whatever and he’d be like “write it down and I’ll give you feedback on your story in 2-3 business days” and like, sometimes I just wanted to yap (Again, looking back on it I have good memories of writing for my dad). But the thing my dad had learned by studying this for us was that the way to get better at writing was to write a LOT, to get a LOT of feedback on our writing, and to be aware of the important elements of a story. Because of this, me and babs have become gifted writers. We wrote a lot, we got lots of feedback, we studied our favorite authors, we studied the tips and tricks of the people who mattered in our lives, and we can fucking WRITE now.

So when we verbalize the little things we did in our lives, part of why it’s fun and funny is because we’re genetic freaks, and we’re not normal, and that makes our lives unusual too. A lot of the shit we did didn’t come naturally which meant we had to make conscious decisions, which in turn are easier to remember.

Another part of why it’s fun is because our dad helped us become excellent writers, and that means we can express ourselves well in writing (in-person is a totally different experience). And it’s always nice to read stuff from people who can express themselves well.

And the last reason it’s fun to read our stuff is because we were raised by a loving nerd-cowboy and a loving feminist supermom, both of whom are neurodiverse in some way. This meant we were almost always safe to share our thoughts and feelings because our parents were genuinely curious about our inner lives and feelings, and they were able to understand how our inner worlds were different from other people’s. It also meant that we were very loved and appreciated, which meant there was always at least one point in our day and one place in our life where we could safely engage in deep self-reflection and analysis. This was helpful for us in being able to uncover the little stories in our lives and really let them sink in. A lot of why we’re good writers is practice and hard work, and also a lot of it is a privilege we received not out of merit (it’s not like we deserved great parents and other people deserved crappy parents, we just kinda ended up with good parents) but out of blind luck and love.

To make this all succinct, many of our stories come from us being able to fully live in our own lives. We didn’t go out of our way to seek excitement - we actually were pretty serious homebodies so we often went out of our way to avoid it. Instead, we found ways to find the magic in the small silly things that happen in life, and finding the magic in simple, mundane, every day stuff makes it easier to add magic into it on purpose too. And if you do that enough it takes you to some strange places. I know both @inbabylontheywept and I have made decisions or done or said things that were unnecessarily complicated or kinda “going out of our way” just because we knew it would make the story of our lives a bit more entertaining or magical. Recognizing that you are living in a story can help you find your own stories. Finding the things that matter to you can help you do this too. And finding your stories can, in turn, make your life as enchanting and silly and bewildering and crazy as our lives have been. It’s an active skill to develop. It requires a willingness to see yourself as a character at times. It requires practice and time. It requires a willingness to make things silly for the plot. And it requires some unspecified amount of autism. But it IS doable, and it can make life more interesting.

How is your life so interesting

Normally, I just kind of laugh this question off, but I've been asked enough times I'm gonna take an honest stab at it.

So, the first thing worth considering is whether the story itself is all that interesting, or whether I am just a good storyteller. My most popular story is about cutting a lot of worms and half, and crying, and then being comforted by my mom. That's not a terribly uncommon or hard to imagine event. A lot of my stories more about the telling than the substance.

There are also some stories that are weird, but they're weird in ways that I also find, like, relateably weird? It might just be that I knew a lot of athletes in college, but I don't think eating raw eggs is that weird. Eating 15 in one go is, but I was roommates with a guy that ate like, three for breakfast, three in his in-class protein shake, and another three at dinner. That guy was attending ASU on a gymnast scholarship, but also, he genuinely ate 5 dozen eggs a week. That seems much more normal than eating 15 in one day.

To say nothing of eating raw onion. Tons of people eat raw onions. It baffles the non-onion eaters, but it's a super common thing. Especially in Mexico.

Some of the stories happen because I am better at noticing story-worthy events than most people. I can't tell you how many times I've been in public, and seen someone do some weirdass thing, and then had to nudge my wife and to get her to watch it too.

If I had to point to the parts of my life that are truly, genuinely, bafflingly weird, they would be my dating stories, and. I dunno. My general thermonuclear dumbass event posts. And I can break down why those two are interesting pretty simply:

I was unbelievably bad at dating. The majority of the time, that just meant that there was a few minutes of stilted small talk and never get a call back. But the thing is, Mormon culture strongly encourages dating as like, a social-practice thing, and I was very motivated to get good at it, so I just kept trying and trying and I think I went on at least 200 first dates before meeting my wife. I genuinely believe that if anyone went on 200 first dates, they would get some pretty incredible bad date stories too. Especially if they had autism. I know I write well, and I can sound very charming here, but it took me a very, very long to get decent social skills. I am just a disturbingly persistent learner.

I am very convincing. This is helpful when I am interacting with other people, because it can do things like, convince them to let me into their secret facility, or convince them to not vote Republican again, or to save at least put the company match into their retirement accounts. But when I'm just debating something with myself, my convincingness works against me: I am very good at tricking myself into believing that bad ideas are, somehow, actually good. This is part of why I have so much sympathy for the right wing lunatics that I work with. Every time I meet a crazy person I go, ah, but for the grace of God, go I. Anyway, this does an unfortunate thing where my excellent verbal skills drive my poor decisions, which results in the very odd combination of welll written, articulate stories about someone being A Fucking Idiot. Like the condom bomber story. I think this is also why most of the lawyers that I meet are insane in their personal lives.

Anyway, those are my theories! I'm gonna tag @lizardho because we mostly had the same childhood, but she has a better grasp on what normal people look like than me, and perhaps she'll have her own theories on the weirdness of our lives.

[drabbletron]

Time of Need: First Aid X Reader FLUFF

|| Just having fun with some friends (@hoiststowline and @dommiso) and a prompt we made while we were chatting on discord. Enjoy! ||

Prompt: A bot runs an important item up to your place of work.

It was pretty easy to miss if he hadn't seen you with it before. An inconspicuous black notebook, spiral bound and plenty used if he had to guess sat tucked under a data pad at his work station. You'd kept it with you at all times, so he's certain you had to have been in a rush to forget it like that. He picks it up and turns it over to see pen scribbles all over the back of it. Little doodles of plants and animals and a few sketches of his medic badge. He's be hard pressed to admit that he did the same thing. First Aid knew you had to be busy today too, what with all the new environmental laws in place. He'd better get this to you so you can do your work proper. He tells Ambulon and the others he's taking a break and sets off to your work site. By the time he's made it to rolling down the dirt road you've already called him three times. The first time to see if he'd seen it, the second to ask him if he's sure he wants to bring it, and the third to check and make sure he knew where he was going. Patience it's your strong suit it seems. No matter, he will be the one to put you at ease when he brings you that much needed notebook. Once he's pulled up outside the low building he's rethinking how out of place he actually looks. A red and white ambulance, no sirens or lights, just parked at a building with what looks to be not a lot of employees in the middle of nowhere. Good thing he's determined to help you. First Aid sucks up whatever reservations he has and activates his holomatter avatar. A moderate looking female human with bright red hair, big blue glasses, and a surgeons mask. He gives himself a once over in his mirror and heaves a sigh. Maybe the mask is too much? You're a scientist though and this is a lab. Humans wear those here right? Before he can question he's appearance you're already calling him a fourth time. "Hello, I'm outside." "I can see that," you laugh. Of course you would laugh, "People are wondering what an ambulance is doing out here. I'd get inside if I were you." The folks at your work must be bored or something because he's only been out here for a few minutes at most. "I'm on my way." First Aid hops down from his cab and makes his way to what he assumes is the front doors. You're already standing at just inside and opening the door to meet him. "Ooh! Who's this cutie coming up to my work?" First Aid tries to stop the smile from spreading over his face. He always did like them a little flirty. "I have your notebook," he reaches into his lab coat and fishes it out to give to you, not failing to notice you grazing his hand in yours as you take it. "Thanks Aid. You really didn't have to. I know you're busy and all." "It's no trouble, really. I'm glad I can help, and if I'm being honest," he steps forward to invade your personal bubble while pulling down his mask, "I'm glad I get to see you." Without a second thought you lean in and plant a sweet kiss over his scarlet lips. There's an odd tingle considering the avatar is made of light, but it's still real enough to give you and him both butterflies. "I'll see you at base then?" "Maybe after one more kiss," you smirk pulling him in again by the lab coat.

[blkkizzat]

Hey beloved! KALIII I am back from NOLA and let me just say...the architecture was amazing. I had a beautiful time. So I been thinking....

AMERICAN Vacation JJK Men

Gojo goes there to escape. He has one free minute where no one was watching and he fucked off to a different continent. He is there specifically for Mardi Gras. He wants someone to flash him. He buys SO MANY BEADS to throw and specifically LIVES OFF OF BEIGNETS. He finds cute bimbo reader there with friends. She's practically naked, has a giant hurricane in her hand for shits and gigs, standing outside cafe du monde waiting on her friend to get back cause they're cash only (which I found out the hard way) . He approaches slowly and offers to buy her beignets, and the two don't separate the entire week he's there. He's practically her vacation boyfriend. At some point, she's practically living at his hotel. She's stopped by her own hotel (4 miles away) about twice to pick up her makeup and let her friends know she's alright. She is being fucked 7 ways to sunday and has absolutely no complaints. End of the trip, he accompanies her to the airport and buys her a new ticket for a week from then for her hometown to Tokyo, one way. He is not letting that fine a piece of ass go.

Geto is supposed to be in New Orleans gathering curses. Nola so damn haunted it's not hard to find a few powerful ones pretty quickly. He spots reader on a haunted tour. Just outside a supposedly haunted house. While there are many actually haunted houses in Nola this particular one had a special grade curse. One that tries to sink it's teeth into reader before Geto shows up and quickly dispatches it. A traumatized and newly informed reader is still processing but Suguru captilizes on it and convinces her to accompany him to dinner. She is the dinner. For hours. He convinces her to come live on his compound because curses aren't a problem there

Nanami has not taken a vacation since high school. He's due. Or rather he is forced to take one cause he works too much. He finally decides what the hell, he's only young once. Be indulges in one night of drinking. He has LOW tolerance. He wakes up at some fancy hotel room in the French quarter with reader in a skimpy outfit next to him. Which is a problem because he was originally in Las Vegas. He has no idea how he got there. He goes through the room looking for his things. He finds an industrial pack of condoms with about 5 missing. His passport, a receipt for a cheap ring and a marriage certificate. Reader wakes up with much of the same confusion on how they got there but a little more insight on what happened before that. Kento had stopped some douche from hitting on her by pretending to be her fiance. He'd said that they were there that weekend to get married. Nanami had spent the next 3 hours with her as the guy creepily stalked her from a corner. They'd been drinking so much that one of them had suggested they actually get married and they'd gone through with it. Nanami has no idea what to do next he is supposed to be back in Japan in 4 days. but reader suggests she come to Japan so they can figure it out together. Her job doesn't require her to live anywhere in particular, so it works out . Three months later, she's still there. Nanami has found he likes being a husband. His wife is good company, the sex is beyond compare and he's enjoying watching his colleagues reactions to finding out he's married.

Toji, I see him going there for a hit job and as soon as it's done looking for something else to hit if you get me. He's in Miami. There's so much to do there. He finds himself on the beach. He loves to get some sun. Unintentionally, but not unwelcome, he ends up on a nude beach. Out of the water, completely topless, comes reader a smile on her face as she runs to her set up on the beach only ten feet from Toji. She looks up at Toji, who has completely taken to the vibe of the beach. Nude, dick out for everyone to see and her jaw drops. And a fifteen minute chat up and small drive later, so do her panties in Toji's car at the first quiet place they could find. By the time Toji is ready to drops her off at her hotel with an unmarked number, Jelly Legs and a smile-he's already planning on seeing her again. Before he can even think of going she looks at him through her lashes and tells him to park, because she is so not done with him yet.

Thoughts from a blissed out - 🧠

AHHHHHH I LOVE ALL OF THESE SO MUCH OML!!!!

I love NOLA down, I also went for mardi gras! so i totally see them in each one of these situations omg im in LOVE.

Haha we also fucked up and didnt know cafe du monde was cash only thankfully someone had enough cash to cover us all cause the beignets are cheap. gojo would totally be living off of them.

geto collecting curses there is so spot on, poor truamatized reader kjfsadbjfahbfjhskb

love, love LOVE nanamis one because if you end up accidentally married to anyone—you def hit the JACKPOT with nanami.

toji nude beach with his dick out fjkahsdjkfhabsdkj im screaming!! i would have fucked him right there kjfahsdbjhfa.

ahhh welcome back sweet 🧠 nonny i missed u, im glad you had such a good time!!! any hoe stories of your own??? i know u said u were gonna try haha.

[alexisaflop]

Wait on your Song - Steve Harrington x Henderson! reader

Chapter 10: Trick or Treat, Freak!

Nancy dumps Steve and you give him a ride home.

It's Halloween morning and too early for your mother's excitement about Dustin's costume. "Look at these pearls," he says and makes some weird noise at the back of his throat. You pull a face, "oh no, don't do that." But your mother eats it up; snaps several photos of "Dusty-bun."

At high school, nobody is dressed up. This morning, Nancy is actually in homeroom, and tells you all about Barb and the private investigator and the fact that her parents are having to sell the house. You decide against explaining that Steve had come around last night and told you all of it already. Instead, you let the familiar guilt settle on you, now with the added layer of having been helping Steve last night when it really should have been her. The taste of bile rises in the back of your mouth.

The rest of the day is spent pretty much in silence. You have a shared study period later in the day and the three of you sit there 'working'. You know you've not answered a single question. Steve looks like he's thinking, but whenever you glance over at him, he is doodling in the margins. Glancing over at Nancy, you smile slightly. Tight-lipped a shadow of recognition flickers across her face. She gets the message that you're in this together - even if you're not sure what /this/ is. Her pencil snaps against the page. Wordlessly she stood up and walked away to sharpen it. "Thanks for your help last night, I wouldn't have got my application in without you." Steve can't quite look at you, his eyes shifting from your hands to your face and back down to his margin drawing that appears to be taking over his entire page. You get the feeling that he doesn't know how to act around you by yourself. Last night, he had constantly fidgeted and hadn't been able to decide how close to sit next to you. Now that Nancy was in the same room, you realise that there's a hint of guilt on his face. "You haven't told her you saw me yesterday, then?" you smirk, already knowing the answer. "I don't want to upset her, she might feel bad about not being the one to help me." Looking over at Nancy, you get the impression Steve is projecting very hopefully onto her. She has a far off look in her eyes and sincerely doubt she would remember what it was Steve asked her for help with yesterday. "She's taking a while, isn't she?" you murmur. Steve's eyes flicker between you and her before going to check on her.

They go into a study room and close the door and you fail miserably at pretending to not be watching. Things start to get heated; Nancy squares her shoulders and her eyes squint at Steve. He's trying and failing to keep her calm. Slowly, you start packing away your things, then Nancy's too. You get the feeling she'll want to leave quickly. Steve draws the blinds, obscuring your view into the room. For a second, his eyes meet yours. His expression is hard and set. But, looking at his eyes, you can see that he is fighting to stay afloat. You can see the guilt that he feels for Barb just as clearly as you can see it in Nancy's eyes.

They aren't in the room for long and when they leave, Nancy is back to not speaking. Wordlessly, you pass her her stuff but shoot Steve an inquisitory glance. His defeated face reminds you that he is just as stuck in this as you are. How do you help someone get through something that legally never happened? Nancy is shooting daggers at Steve so you leave the library without him. In effort to get her to talk, you place a protective arm around her shoulders. "He wants us to play pretend as stupid teenagers tonight." "He doesn't need to pretend; he /is/ a stupid teenager," you tease, hoping for at least a smile. Nothing. "Well you have to come, because me and Jonathan already agreed to go." "I just don't care. It's all bullshit," she says sullenly. "Okay," you're not sure what to say, but you want to get her to talk. Properly. "It's like nobody even cares about what happened to Barb." Just like that, the notion of wanting to help her disappears. You were the one who had watched Barb die. You were the one who had talked Nancy out of her guilt and forgiven her straight away for any wrong-doing she felt like she had committed that night. "Seriously?" your voice is just louder than a whisper but it trembles with rage, "you want to talk to me about caring? Where the hell have you been for the past year? You are supposed to be my friend. You've disappeared to only caring about the person you lost and not the ones who actually care about you. Barb was my friend too." "Y/N, I didn't mean it like that. It's different for you, you didn't kill her." "Have you considered it's just the same for me? That I don't hear her screaming every night? Of course you don't because you never talk about it. You're always with Steve! Which is exactly how you were when Barb was still alive. And I've accepted that your boyfriend is more important, really I have. But it sucks for him that you treat him like crap just as much as you did everyone else." She stares at you. "Why didn't you tell me?" her eyes are watering. Crap. "Because of this. I didn't want to make it worse." "Well, it's not like it's got better is it?" her eyes are still wet but her anger is back. The bell rings and you have science class. Neither of you know what to say, so you just walk away.

The rest of the day was a blur. You feel shitty for not helping Nancy more but the rest of you is angry that she can't see that everyone else is going through the same crap as her. The same guilt. The same grief. Your head is spinning as you walk to your car. And that's when you see Billy. Shit. "You'd look prettier if you were smiling." You flip him off and keep walking. Your heart rate raises as you can still feel his eyes on you. But a ginger girl coming from the direction of the middle school catches your eye. She's smiling at you. MadMax. It had to be her. Dustin hadn't shut up about how cool it is that she skates. And she smiled at you when she saw who you were swearing at. You smile back at her before collapsing into your car and going home.

At home you collapse into the sofa, close your eyes and press your hands against your forehead. "Why didn't you tell me?" Nancy's voice echoes in your head. What if you had told her sooner about the nightmares and the guilt? Would she have listened? Or would it just have made her feel more guilty for ditching you and Barb that night?

You sit like that for about ten minutes alone before the Dustin hurricane came home. You're glad for the distraction from the spiralling questions. "Max called me presumptuous today," he said proudly, chucking his bag by the door. You shake your head, "you do know what presumptuous means right?" He doesn't say anything. "What did you say before she said that?" "I was inviting her to come trick-or-treating tonight with the Party." "And you just expected her to come?" "Yeah, we know where to get all the full size candy bars." "Okay, so do you think she'll go with you?" He shrugged, "Lucas doesn't think so." It's when he's walking away to his room that he mentions the Camaro that almost ran the Party over on the way home. "I am going to kill Billy," you promise him, before heading to your room to find an outfit for Tina's stupid party.

You park a few blocks away from Tina's and walk around. If you hadn't promised Jonathan you would be here, you would be at home with a scary movie right now. But the distraction that is drunk teenagers is almost as entertaining. You we wear red trousers and a loose fitting white shirt with a bandana tied through your hair: a very low effort pirate. You didn't expect to find rum here, but then again you had driven so that's probably for the best. Billy's name is echoing around outside. Not that guy again you complain to yourself. Somehow, you manage to walk through the doors right behind them and end up following them across the party. All the way to Steve and Nancy. She gives you a half-hearted glare. Like you brought these idiots here.

"We've got ourselves a new keg king, Harrington," Tommy proclaims. Steve is dressed as Tom Cruise, although he's leaning pretty heavily on the sunglasses to make it work. His jaw is set as he stares back at Billy. Not on the offensive, but getting prepared to defend. Nancy stalks off. Which kind of proves your point from earlier that she just does not care about anyone else. Billy steps towards Steve, and you prepare to step in between them. "I was told not to expect to see you here, Y/N," Billy turns to you. He's learnt your name from somewhere. You hate the way he says it, like now he knows your name, he can get to you. You lift your chin to raise your gaze in line with his, "For someone who tried to run over my brother this afternoon you're awfully friendly." He almost looks surprised, but not as much as you do when he walks away. "He drinks like he drives," you say, turning to Steve, "like an obnoxious idiot. You good, Harrington?" His face is still clenched together. As though it might all fall apart if he dared to relax. "Yeah. Fine." "We should probably find Nancy." "Yeah, because she'll be so happy to see you," he eyes you up wearily, "why did you even come Henderson?" "Because after last time, I'm not leaving any of my friends alone at these stupid parties." His face softens minutely, "I have to take her side." "I know."

You follow him through the crowd and find Nancy near the kitchen turned bar. "Pure fuel! Pure fuel!" exclaims a kid who you were really hoping was dressed as Dionysus next to the punch bowl. You grinned and Steve couldn't help but also look amused. Nancy on the other hand looked incredibly serious as she went in for her drink. "Woah, woah, woah, Nance. Take it easy, alright?" "We're being stupid teenagers for the night, wasn't that the deal?" You couldn't help but smile. Nancy had never really got drunk before and this was certainly going to be entertaining. But Steve just looked concerned. You felt bad for him that he'd be the one who probably had to look after her when this all went wrong. You survey the punch ingredients and make yourself a red solo cup of juice; there's a very strong chance you'll be driving an incredibly drunk Nancy home. Especially seeing as Jonathan is nowhere to be seen. That's when Steve and Nancy start dancing and you groan internally. Jonathan was supposed to suffer through this nightmare with you. You find a space by the wall not too far from the two of them.

You're not sure how long after that Jonathan turns up. You're surprised to see him actually talking to someone. "I thought you ditched me," you complain once he joins you. "No I couldn't miss … this" he gestures around to the general antics of drunken teenagers. "Agreed, us drivers can all have one drink right?" Nancy joins you to the alcohol despite Steve's protestations. You cant help but agree, "Nancy at least have some water first or something." "Screw you," she glares at you with a hate so strong that you take a step back. Steve watches with interest. He doesn't look sad, just resigned to his fate. And apologetic. Meanwhile, Nancy just refills her cup. "Nancy come on put it down," Steve has his hands on her forearm. "Let go," she insists. Steve does, and surprised, Nancy tips the punch onto herself. "What the hell," she hisses as everyone else oohs and aahs. "Nothing to see here guys," you glare as you follow Nancy and Steve away. You're not sure where Jonathan went, and you end up standing outside Tina's bathroom alone. You don't hear all of their conversation, but its enough. It starts with Steve apologising and offering to take her home. "No you wanted this," Nancy insists. "No I didn't, I told you to stop drinking," Steve's voice is soft but firm. You vaguely wonder how many drunk teenagers he's dealt with over time. "Bullshit," Nancy says confidently. "It's not bullshit." "Bullshit." It's silent for a moment. To be fair you wouldn't know what to say either. "You, you're bullshit," Nancy sounds oddly calm for someone saying something seemingly so angry, so final. "What?" Steve's voice is still soft, but you can feel the defensiveness creeping back in. "Pretending everything's okay… like we didn't kill Barb," her voice breaks a little, like she's begging for someone, anyone, to understand.

Your teeth clench around nothing as the guilt from earlier in the day returns. You couldn't lie that in your darker months of the past year you hadn't blamed Nancy and Steve for Barb's fate. But you knew that really, it's not their fault. Like Steve was trying to tell Nancy, you'd all just been stupid teenagers. If Barb hadn't hurt herself, the monster would have just taken on the next bleeding person in Hawkins. But you suppose Nancy hasn't come to that conclusion. Which is fine, but you really hate she'd stop blaming Steve for it too. It's not like he'd forced you and Barb to come to the party that night. What she says next you don't hear all of because Jonathan appears beside you. But you hear Steve whisper "like we're in love?" "Bullshit." "You don't love me?" His voice wavers; all the fighting, all the uncertainty between the two of them you had been seeing all year seemed to suddenly be revealed to him. "Its bullshit," Nancy is unphased in her drunken state. Suddenly the door opens and Steve leaves. He doesn't seem surprised that you're there.

"Jonathan, make sure she gets home okay. I'll take Harrington." Jonathan nods. You knew how much he and Nancy cared about each other - enough to trust him to get her home. Hell, he'd gotten you home enough times before. After listening to the low-voiced break-up of Steve and Nancy, the booming party downstairs is deafening. Steve is easy to sport and easier to catch up with in his dazed state. "Steve, wait up," you call. He turns back to look at you. Shattered. That's how you'd describe him. Exhausted and smashed into pieces. "Leave me alone, Y/N." "No," you say simply. He doesn't say anything else as you walk with him, but he also doesn't send you away. You've reached the front door when Billy reappears. "Y/N, leaving so soon? And with your best friend's boyfriend? Something stinks," he looks at you and it rockets fear down your spine. "Yeah, I'm leaving, so let us through," you glare. "Not gonna help out your girlfriend Steve?" he says tauntingly. Steve straightens besides you, "they're not mine," he says with gritted teeth. "So you're open to offers?" smirked Billy to you. "Not from you, now move," you shove past him and drag Steve with you. You reach the front of Tina's drive, "How did you get here Steve?" "Lift from some guys on the basketball team," he turns to you as he realises his issue. Tina's house is a good half an hour walk from here, and it's pretty cold. "You don't have to help me, you only agreed to be my friend for Nancy's sake, and …" his voice breaks off but he's made his point. You shake your head, "Come on, let's get you home."

You lead him away from the noise of the party to your car. "Why do you park so far away?" "So that my car can get thrown up on? I'm good thanks." He smiles slightly and sinks into your passenger seat. You start up the car and turn on the heating before turning on the radio. Hang On To Yourself fills the car. "Of course it's Bowie." "See we really are friends," you say as you pull away. "You've been here for me more than Nancy," he says as you go back past the party. You spot Jonathan getting Nancy into his car, you give him a discrete nod. You don't think Steve notices. "I could say the same of you," you smile and glance at him. He's collapsed all the way back into his seat and is staring up to the night sky. "I thought it was temporary. I knew Nance needed time, to get over Barb, to feel better. But, I guess that wasn't the problem," he sighs. "You must have known it wasn't going well," you think of all the bickering, the fact they never went to each other for anything. "Thanks, you're really making me feel better," he laughed harshly. "Sorry." "It's fine, you had to get over her too." You aren't sure he had meant Barb until he continues, "I can't believe you bounced back so quickly from watching her die, to helping Jonathan fight me," he chuckles slightly, "I think you handled it so well Nance forgot you were in the same place she was."

You don't know what to say. The two of you sat in silence for a while, with just Bowie's voice between you: "Smiling, and waving, and looking so fine. I don't think you knew you were in the song." The silence isn't awkward, over the last year of seeing Steve at work, of communicating through eyebrow raises over Nancy's head something had changed between the two of you. It was like you'd become allies in surviving high school - something your middle school self would never understand. The song ends as you pull into the Harrington's driveway. The house is weirdly dark for 10.30 on a Saturday. "Your parents out for Halloween? Back home, no-one over the age of 11 is going out to celebrate." The corners of his mouth lift slightly, "no, business trip. If it's a long way, my mom goes with my dad." "Surely if it's a long way, that's more of a reason to stay with you," you say without thinking. "It's fine," he shrugged and it was pretty clear he was barely holding it together. "Okay," you say simply. You might be more comfortable around Steve, but there are lots of parts of him that you still don't understand. "I just, Nance," he glanced at you, almost for permission, "I can't believe after a year it's just over. I don't understand - I was there for her through everything. And now, she's just, she's just gone?" "I know the feeling," you sigh; thinking of Jonathan. At this point he's all she has left and neither of them have been exactly communicative about their issues. "I can't believe she ditched her best friend as well as her boyfriend in one day. I know I haven't been the perfect boyfriend but- but you? You've been here everyday," his voice raises, and he's beginning to sound more angry than hurt.

"Steve. Steve," you take his forearm gently, "hey, you need to calm down okay? You might be able to fix this with her you know? If you wanted." He groans, "I don't know what I want, Y/N." "And that's why," you reached across him, into the glove compartment. "What are you doing?" his eyes widen slightly. You pull out a pen, "you're going to go inside and go to sleep. But, just in case you realise being alone all the time sucks: here's my phone number." "You know, before tonight I really thought you secretly hated me." "Maybe I do, maybe it brings me great joy to watch you suffer." He rolled his eyes. "Seriously, Harrington. My mom and Dustin both answer that phone, so emergencies only. Okay, no prank calls?" "Thanks, Y/N. I owe you." "You owe me twice." "I guess I do. See you around." You wait until he's safely inside until you start heading home. You turn up the radio and allow yourself to relax. You think of Nancy, and can't help but wonder if she thinks you're just /bullshit/ too. After years of friendship and suddenly your allegiance has changed to Steve Harrington? "It ain't easy, it ain't easy, it ain't easy to get to heaven when you're going down," Bowie tells you as you drive. "I must be going down if we're friends now," you mumble to yourself.

A/N Sorry this took fucking forever i'm really busy now that the sun is out and i can go out and do stuff i wouldnt say they're friends yet. they no longer enemies tho, they allies

[stargirllt]

hi. pornstar by nessa barrett but charlie’s the pornstar and he has like a secret onlyfans and his afab/fem bestie (reader) finds it because she’s like “ooh this guy’s body is hot” and then she’s like “wait his voice is really familiar” and then she sees the tattoo on his arm and is like 👁️👄👁️ as she realizes the guy she’s been the biggest fan of is actually her best friend and then it’s literally the song and she kinda hints at it with him then blatantly pulls an “i know what you are” and then they fuck :3

found you 1/2

hey mika you're a genius i love you and im making this into a two part series and im sorry its so late

you'd just gotten home from work, finished your shower, eaten dinner, and now it was time to satisfy the insatiable hunger that'd been stirring in your core since you'd left work. you see, you had a bit of a crush on your best friend, charlie; but he couldn't know that, so you had to continue like things were normal. that included calling him every day on your way home. 

this time, though, it seemed like he was the one hiding something. he was stuttering the whole time, getting distracted more easily than usual, and he kept groaning softly into the microphone. that was the main cause of the pit of neediness beginning to make its way into your core. by the end of the call, you were soaked.

so here you were, alone in your room, hand between your legs, searching twitter for your favorite nsfw creator. it's not like you were some perv or anything. i mean, the only reason you watched him was because he sounded like charlie, okay maybe you were a perv.

anyway, when you check his account you see that he posted less than twenty minutes ago. about an hour after you got off call with charlie. it was just another audio, but the caption stated that he made on onlyfans. it had a full body view, excluding his face for obvious reasons. 

you contemplated it, like really did. and then you went back to the actual audio and played the whole thing. the clip was different from the others, he spoke in this one. and even more surprising, he let out a very quiet whimper of charlies nickname for you. your fucking nickname.

so obviously you exited out of the video and clicked the link to his onlyfans. his user was "@slime_kingg" surely you were just reading into things. surely it wasn't him. once you'd calmed yourself down from that episode, you remember about the aching between your legs. you sigh, reach one hand back down, and subscribe to the page.

this wasnt a proud moment for you, paying real american dollars to see the naked body of a man who vaguely resembles your best friend of years. however, you did already pay, so why not take advantage of it. you click the first available video on the page. 

the man is sprawled out on a bed with a vaguely familiar blanket under him, you can't quite place where you know it from. once you press play, you can see the vibrator tied to the tip of his cock. he reaches around to turn on the vibrator and you see it. charlie's tattoo. it's bright blue, unique, on the inside of his wrist, pretty hard to miss.

suddenly everything clicks. the man sounds like charlie because it is charlie. the nickname, the tattoo, the voice, the hiding. so you stop what you're doing and you call him. he picks up almost immediately.

"hello?"

"hey char! i have tell you something."

"of course, whats up, n/n?"

"i found it."

"w-what? what are you talking about?"

"you know. i know. slime_kingg? really?"

"ohmygod-"

"chill out, charlie. im not mad, i dont think you're weird or anything. but i do think you're a slut." you giggle at the end of your sentence, watching the anxiety leave him and slowly come back.

"thank you, oh my gosh. please don't tell anyone, it would ruin everything."

"i wont, char. don't worry. i do have a request though,"

"what is it?" he sounded anxious, worried, even.

"i want you to come over, and show me what you're doing to yourself when you record those audios."

radio silence. then, it comes. the jingling of his keys.

"im on my way right now."

"ill see you then, babe." you hang up the phone and realize what you just did. immediately you get up to do your makeup, clean up the house, and put on  your favorite pair of underwear. 

about twenty minutes later, he arrives, not even bothering to knock. he barges into your house, going straight to your bedroom when he doesn't see you in the living room.

"y/n? im here!" he yells, still in search of you. when he enters your room, he freezes. 

"charlie.." you stand and walk to him, stopping right in front of where he stood. he closes the gap, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours in a harsh, passionate movement.

you whine softly into his mouth. "god, charlie. are you gonna do what i asked you to?"

"mhm, is that okay? c-can i do that now?" 

"yeah, sweetheart. show me what you do when you're alone, when you record those audios, when you think about me. im just gonna watch." you sit on the edge of the bed, facing him. he strips himself of his clothes and lays back on the bed.

"i can't, i just ca-cant-" 

"you wanna see me baby?"

"mhm! yes yes please"

you slip off your t-shirt and unclasp your bra, now kneeling next to him on your bed. 

"you can touch me baby, only if you keep touching yourself, though."

he whines and reaches one hand out to lightly grope your tits while still pumping his cock. 

"oh you sound so pretty baby, can i- can i touch you?" you question, unsure if you're crossing a line or not.

"please touch me, m-" he cuts himself off and his eyes widen.

"what was that? what, what did you just call me?"

"please mommy?"

"good boy, i'll touch you."

"ohmygod thank you mommy,"

you wrap your hand around his throbbing cock and begin to stroke him.

"baby, you're leaking everywhere. so needy for me, so needy for your mommy."

at those words he perks up and his dick twitches in your hand. he whines loudly and tries to hide his face in your tits.

"oh baby, dont be embarrassed. are you close, char?"

he nods and continues to shake and whine before cumming all over your hand and shooting up to his stomach and lower chest. 

"so good baby, take your time." when he finally comes down from his high, he snuggles further into your chest.

"baby, i need to get up so i can clean you off."

"mmph," 

once the both of you were cleaned up, you lied together in your bed giggling and talking about nothing.

"charlie? i think next time we need to record this for your onlyfans."

"shut up" he laughs into your chest.

[venata-nyx]

I have more thoughts about voltron pjo au.

Ik i posted the first one in the community blog thing but I don't like how my posts dont show up on my profile so im doing it the old fashioned way.

Ik I mentioned Keith is an Enyo kid, reason being: he seems very much like someone who would be tempted (or would?) Join Luke, as a child of a minor god himself. He'd have to be used to sleeping on the ground, he'd probably look at his friends and think: "they deserve more."

I also had the passing thought of: what if KEITH was the Aphrodite kid. Because, well, Keith cares a lot, he loves hard. The man has love spilling out of his fucking ears, if you know where to look. (I also just want an excuse to let Keith be really pretty) but figured it doesn't fit his character enough compared to Lance.

(Sidenote but I like to think Hestia becomes his patron, as a compromise.)

Him being an Enyo kid, i feel like gives him a genuinely really compelling story route. I suppose, you could compare it to Ethan Nakamura.

Much like his original self, he leaves the main cast for another. For this au, he joins Luke at some point, desiring a better fate for his friends. Of course, he comes back to them eventually, much to their joy and wariness in equal measure. (Also im really sorry if my thoughts arent cohesive/makes sense, im in the middle of a lecture half listening rn)

As for the Hestia patronage, I feel like he would enjoy her company by the hearth. She's quiet and feels safe and doesn't push his boundaries. She'd take a shining to him, i think. For all the voltron fandom calls him standoffish, he really isn't. It's mostly by the goading of Lance, but that's a whole different thing. Keith is actually pretty polite honestly. Hestia having patronage over him would involve things like: perpetual warmth, he finds home wherever there is a hearth, he belongs. And I think he'd find it best. (Maybe that's why he leaves luke's army idk, maybe she'd convince him) Let’s say, Hestia offered him patronage before he left for Luke's army, I genuinely don't think she, of all people, would abandon him. I think that was the catalyst to get him to come back.

[thedevilsoftruth]

Removed scene from a oneshot I am currently working on.

Professional. // Congressman!B. Barnes x f!reader - Scene #2. W/c - 2k

I just wanted to share this for funzies!

Warning: Suggestive content up head. Looots and lot of sexual tension and dialogue. Vaginal fingering. Implied sex. Usgae of L/n. Bucky is called James. 18+ MDNI!!!

Throughout the week you would have small moments where you bumped into James at the Capitol. Normally around your break time. Each time you would find eachother he'd give you a simple nod of his head or a simple 'hello.' Kind of like something a normal person you don't know would do. But today was different. You were in your office and looking over your father's schedule when a man named John knocked on your door and handed you a tiny bag and a card.

This time it was white cardstock with an address written on it. As for what was inside the bag, it was the same pineapple tequila your favorite congressman had bought for you just three days ago. It was in a beautiful, simple glass bottle that was in the shape of an actual pineapple, wrapped in a pretty red bow.

That night you finally bit the bullet and decided to call him. You were blushing at how soon it was that you were calling him. The both of you knew you'd be calling him. He didn't expect it to be this soon, but he picked up anyways the moment his phone went off.

"Hello?" You said into the speaker. He was grinning on his end of the line.

"About damn time." He responded, leaning against the stairs on the outside main entrance of the Capitol building. You were twirling in your desk chair anxiously, unsure of why you were even calling him.

"Is this on an emergency matter?" He asked you. You were shaking your head behind your phone.

"No. I just wanted to call and say thank you for the lovely gift." You told him, twirling around the little bottle in your hand, tracing the shape of the glass leads with a freshly manicured index finger. James was trying desperately trying to hold his tongue back.

"Are you sure thats why you called?"

Your hand stilled on top of the glass bottle.

"What?"

His voice came in clearer the next time, more commanding.

"Are you sure that's why you called?"

All the blood was drained from your face in an instant. Your tongue felt thick in your mouth. There was only a few seconds of silence before he was speaking again.

"Tell me you're in your office right now." He said, pushing off the railing of the staircase, smiling at a few people as they walked by. You didn't even have time to react.

"I--I--" you stammered, standing up from your desk chair immediately. He was already heading back into the building.

"James. "

"Yes?"

"Do not come here."

He smiled with his teeth, nodding at a security officer as he walked by.

"Oh, so you are in your office?" His voice lowered when he passed the officer. You were pacing around in your office, unsure of what to do.

"James!" Your voice came out more panicked and hoarse that time. He liked it.

"Yes, doll?"

Your heart skipped a beat. Somehow, some way, that man kept finding ways to knock the wind out of you.

"Do not come." You told him, frantically reaching for your purse as you scrambled to the door, your heart beating so hard that you could feel it in your ears. "If you come here, I'm gonna be very unhappy."

James clicked his tongue from the other side of the line.

"Aww. That sucks because I'm already headed towards your floor." He crooned, keeping his head and his voice low as he made his was to one of the many golden elevators the Capitol held. You were running down the hallway like there was a flock of rogue chickens chasing after you, the keychains on your purse jangling maniacally.

"Don't you even think of taking the stairs." Right after he said those last words he hung up. You audibly growled. You were 25 feet away from the stairs when he had said that. It was like he read your mind.

So you looked around the hallway nervously, biting your lip before deciding to go the other way to the the outside stair case. You shuffled down the hallway in a hurry, your head shooting off in random directions, making sure that he wasn't anywhere near you. At first, the cost was clear. Until you realized that the direction you were headed in was the area where a bunch of elevators were located in.

By the moment you had came to the realization, it was too late. It was 2 hours past closing time on a Tuesday afternoon. No body else was in the area, so it was not hard for the both of you to find eachother.

"James." You called his name, stopping in your tracks very far away from him. He, on the other hand, did not stop walking.

"Miss L/n." He greeted back with the most angering smile you had ever seen in your life. Instinctively, your feet shuffled backwards as he moved forward.

"I told you not to come up here." You said, breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. He moved forward, you moved back. This happened a few more times until he was close enough to you for you to be able to smell his cologne and you were face to face with the corner of the hallway.

"And I told you not to take the stairs." He said, his voice low and gruff before he stepped forward once more, closing the distance between the both of you and capturing your lips in a kiss that knocked the air out of your lungs. You gasped at the contact, your hands flying up to his chest. His went to your lower back.

"James." You muttered his name against his lips as he started to back you up further into the hallway. You tried to push off him, but he was stronger.

"Miss L/n." He muttered back, tilting his head to kiss you deeper, his vibranium hand dropping down to your stomach, his fingers curling around your soft flesh. You nearly moaned into his mouth, and it took ever fiber in your body not to.

"Do you do this with every person you try to manipulate into your little staff?" You asked breathlessly against his lip, pulling away just a bit. His lips were shiny from kissing you and his face was flushed when you looked back at him.

"Only you." He said simply before going back into kissing you, continuing to push you back into the hallway until your back hit the door to your office.

"Give me your fuckin' key." He growled against your mouth, his grip on your stomach tightening. You whimpered.

"It's unlocked." You told him.

"Ohohoho, it is?" He chuckled darkly, the sound so deep and powerful that you felt it in your stomach. "I fucking knew it." He growled, his right hand leaving your waist to turn the knob of the door with just enough force that it nearly sent you tumbling back onto the ground. You both stumbled into the room, and he kicked the door shut, immediately moving to back you up against a corner.

"Such a dirty girl." He crooned, moving his lips to kiss at the area where the side of your jaw met your neck. You groaned out loud, your hands moving to claw at his back.

"Leaving this door unlocked. I bet you were just hoping I'd find you, bring you back here and fuck you silly, huh?" He growled, his voice so deep he sounded unrecognizable. A large metal hand snaked up your torso to grab at your breast.

"James!" You gasped, your back arching into him as his lips lowers to your collarbone. "You cannot--" you moaned loudly when he started to mouth at your breast through your blouse. "You cannot be here."

"Oh yeah?" He looked up at you, and you swore you could feel your entire world melting away.

"Why'd you leave your door unlocked then?" He inquired, reaching under your skirt and cupping your sex through your panties. It was embarrassing how easily you let him touch you like that.

"My dad will kill me if he ever found out I'd be working for you." You told him. He held back a laugh at that.

"Why? Is he afraid I'm going to assassinate him too?" He snorted, his lips lazily tracing the line of your collarbone. You sighed into his touch.

"Don't joke about that."

"Sorry."

But he wasn't sorry, no, not even by the slightest bit. Not when he already had an entire folder in his hoke back in Brooklyn full of hundreds of incriminating documents he could use against your father in court that you didn't even know about. Especially not when his fingers were already sliding past the laced line of your panties and running up your slit so prettily. You groaned and gripped the sleeve of his suit jacket hard, your head falling back against the wall as the pads of his middle fingers began circling your clit gently.

"We need to stop." You told him, eyes wide, too afraid to moan or even move against him. You weren't ready to give into him yet. Physically, you were, mentally, not so much. He cocked his head to the side and hummed.

"Oh, sweetheart." He murmured, his lips a twisted smirk that both made your legs shake and your brain melt. His thumb gently rubbed into your clit, feather-light, barley even there. "You're saying that but your bodies telling me a completely different story." Finally, he gave his touch enough pressure to make you squeal. "This little pussy is just drooling all over my hand and I have barley even touched her yet."

His fingers slithered down your folds, them back up to tease your clit. You whined out loud. Straight up whined.

"If you really want me to stop, go on and say it." He told you, stilling his hand against your pelvis. You stared at him in silence for a minute, hesitant. A part of you knew better than to give in, but another part of you just couldn't help but want him.

So, you curled your fists into his sleeve tighter and rocked your hips against his hand. His lips curled into another sick grin.

"That's what I thought."

You put your hand on his chest for stability when his hand went back to moving against you. Your head fell back against the wall, your eyelids fluttering. You absolutely hated how much you wanted him.

But you continued to let him touch you, and you continued to let him whisper those dirty things into your ear because--you had to face it, it felt good. He felt good. It was almost too overwhelming for you.

"James." You whispered his name, somewhere between a sigh and a whine. He looked up at you, his expression unreadable.

"Miss L/n."

His fingers then dipped into you, making you gasp and throw your head back.

"Was this your plan all along?" You panted, your fingers curling around the wine red tie around his neck. He smiled.

"No." He told you, his fingers sinking deeper into you. You groaned out loud, your fingers gripping his tie harder. "You know what my plan was, and obviously didn't like it." He added, leaning down to kiss your shoulder, his fingers pushing just right into where you needed him most. Your hips jolted and your knees nearly gave out.

"But that's fine." He said. "If this is what builds up your trust for me, I'm willing to take the chances."

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

i honestly think the writers really shot themselves in the foot (as they like to do) with the miraculous timer not existing specifically for adults instead of that just being a skill that has to be trained. The training montage in the beginning of Revelator was cool (in theory bc why is this only a two minute scene) but the fandom‘s main concern seemed to be about how fucked up it actually is bc this is basically forcing kids to grow up too soon. And I see where they‘re coming from, but also the lore for the timer is so unclear overall.

I fully agree. Calling the timer upgrade an "adult" power then giving it to the teen heroes is just weird. Just say that it has to do with experience or emotional maturity or something like that (not that Gabriel was ever emotionally mature, but let's ignore that issue for now). Everyone was anticipating this upgrade being a thing that happened when the characters turned 16 or 18. Having it just randomly show up while most of them are still 14 (15?) raises all kinds of questions and makes people give the upgrade undo weight.

I had another ask about this recently and in that one I talked about how lackluster this upgrade was. The characters don't actually mature, they just kind of will themselves into "adulthood" which is one of my main issues with the complaint you mentioned. A complaint that I have also seen a few times from different sources which is why I feel comfortable addressing it:

the fandom‘s main concern seemed to be about how fucked up it actually is bc this is basically forcing kids to grow up too soon.

It's hard to view the characters' "adult" status as "forcing kids to grow up too soon" when this upgrade is the least serious thing that has happened to most of these characters. Forcing Marinette to try to navigate the complex mess that Gabriel dumped on her lap is "forcing kids to grow up too soon." Luka being banished to Brazil because a terrorist wanted to capture him and force him to betray his friends is "forcing kids to grow up too soon." Adrien having to navigate being an orphan with no forewarning that his father was dying is "forcing kids to grow up too soon." The list goes on.

However, none of those things are why the characters are "adults" now. They're "adults" because of a rather generic pep talk. It's also worth noting that the scenes where the characters becomes "adults" are framed as moments of empowerment. That means that, narratively speaking, this is not supposed to be seen as a bad or concerning thing.

This show's messaging has always been wacky, but I'm pretty sure that this is less a commentary on how messed up these teenagers lives are and more the writers just wanting to show that the characters are growing up because we're six season in and growing up is not some great evil. It's just a normal part of life. That's why my criticism of this upgrade is not "upgrade bad" or "upgrade depressing" it's that this should have been part of a character arc where the characters actually grew up a little!

Also, complaining that the teen characters are "growing up too soon" feels too much in line with people who complain about shows like Miraculous "glorifying child soldiers." It's an action show aimed at young kids. The lead characters are going to be kids and teens because those are the kinds of characters young kids relate to. If you don't like seeing kids and teens being given responsibilities that they shouldn't have in the real world, then don't watch these kinds of shows. To enjoy them, you have to be willing to suspend your disbelief about the age issue and treat the responsibilities these characters have as fine in their world. Or, at least, not concerning because of their age. It's less "this is bad for a 14-year-old" and more "this is a terrible thing for anyone to deal with."

This is why you'll see me do things like treating Nathalie, Felix, Kagami, and Amelie as equally responsible for keeping Adrien in the dark in season five even though Felix and Kagami are "just teens". It's also why I don't really talk about Marinette being "just a 14-year-old girl." I get that defense, but I don't think it fits this genre because, if you're going to use that defense, then why is she responsible for anything? She's too young for everything she's doing! All the teen characters are, but is anyone arguing that they should all quit and be replaced by adults? I don't think so. If we put this stuff in adult hands then we would have a wildly different show.

I do think that the teen characters' age has validity in certain discussion - for example, I think it's perfectly reasonable for them to have teenage struggles because they are teenagers - but generally speaking, I'd avoid using age arguments when it comes to the characters' responsibilities and authority in shows like Miraculous. Characters in these shows are not supposed to be treated like normal teens by the audience. That just doesn't make for a good story.

Along similar lines, I don't like the "this character is only 14" or "it's only been a year in canon" arguments to defend things like the lack of character growth. That's just not a good defense for a fictional story like Miraculous. It's an action-adventure romcom, not literary fiction. It's not supposed to be hyper realistic. It's supposed to be a fun and engaging story. It doesn't matter how old the characters are or how long it's been in canon. What matters is that we're six seasons in and that season five saw the end of the show's first major story arc. By that point, it's perfectly reasonable to look for character growth and satisfying plot progression.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

I saw you do this ask “how gain the trust and become a friend of skelebros”. Could you do this same ask but with SF, FSG, HS and HF

Horrorswap Sans - It's extremely hard as Nugget is absolutely not friendly to humans. You're going to need a lot of persistence and honesty, as if you're lying or hurting him once, it's over forever. He's going to realize eventually he's acting like a jerk to you and maybe try to make some effort to be nicer, but it's not going to be immediate.

Horrorswap Papyrus - Just being nice to him and treating him normally, like he's not disabled and in a horrible state. He's aware his story is tragic, but he's tired of being considered only like that. He wants to do fun things with his S/O, not being asked constantly if he's alright. Of course, being there through the bad days is important too, as he still has a lot of them. Pumpkin trusts pretty easily, other than that.

Horrorfell Sans - He likes funny people that don't remind him constantly of his past. Copper wants to take a new start on the Surface, so trying to learn about him now without trying to learn things about his past is the best. He'll tell you in time, just not now. He doesn't trust easily, though, and he's still a little bit of a jerk when he realizes the relationship is going well, just to see if you're going to flee or not. He's not that hard to get as a friend once you understand he's all bluffing and no biting.

Horrorfell Papyrus - Patience and perseverance. Chief is going to be wary as soon as he's realizing you have an interest in him, because why the hell do you want to get closer? In his world, these types of things lead to treason and premature death, so he's a bit scared you're going to betray him at his most vulnerable moment. But the more time passes, the more he's lowering his guard, even though he takes little steps back when he becomes aware he's opening up to you. If you're still here for him during one of the bad days, he might give up and dump everything on you out of nowhere because he just so desperately needs someone to talk to and that he can trust.

Swapfell Sans - All it takes is to come back to see him several times a week for 1. Nox to realize he's upset when you're not coming. 2. Nox to realize he's actually looking forward for these small moment and 3. Nox to realize he actually likes you. It's going to take some time, as he's really slow, but you can make him come out of his angry little shell, a step after the other. The day you manage to make him laugh, you have won.

Swapfell Papyrus - Learning his routine and meeting him to the spots he's showing to: the trash areas behind his house, the bank in the park to prank people and McDonald's. With time, he'll realize all by himself he's kind of sad when you're not here, until one morning you find him waiting in front of your door (how the hell does he know where you live???) and excited to go to his favorite spots with you. And then he does that every morning to be sure you're coming.

Fellswap Gold Sans - Being brutally honest with him and show displeasure when he's an asshole. Wine is tired of people saying yes to everything he says because they're scared of him. He's going to try to scare you off too, but as soon as you resist, you'll see the most flabbergasted expression on his face. So, the thing is, he's not going to be happy. But also he's super happy and excited about it? Because now he sees you as someone worth playing with, even though it means he's going to be even more of a jerk lol. It's just his love language.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - Look at him all serious for 10 seconds until he frowns in worry, and then smile at him and watch as his entire face illuminates. Here you go. He's your friend now.