#it's all a swarm of people either asking too much of me

[absinthemindedly]

Anyone else feel like someone being kind to you breaks some cosmic unspoken rule that demands repercussion, or is that just me?

[solbaby7]

Still Your Best

pairing: azriel x reader

inspo: Still Your Best - Giveon

warnings: jealous azriel, some teasing, sexual tension, misogyny, this some toxic relationship shit so don’t expect the right decisions to be made here

summary: You’re trying to move on after years of pining over a certain Shadowsinger but he’s not ready to let go

—

Damien was—nice.

A little predictable but he tried to be a gentlemen; held open your doors and pulled out your chairs at every dinner. He remembered the little things, was a decent cook, clean enough and worked hard.

But, you didn’t feel the spark.

Even after weeks of planned lunches and candlelit dinners accompanied with fine wines and good conversation but you couldn’t see yourself falling in love—at least not yet; not without effort. It’s partially why you’d never brought him around the Inner Circle; slightly worried about making your private life public in fears that it was moving things along too soon.

Was it normal to invite someone you didn’t love to meet your family?

There’s not enough time to really figure it out, to work out the kinds and tie lose ends before Damien is asking to meet them. “You’ve met mine.”

It was true; his family was—nice. A kind enough mother and a father who wasn’t exactly present but he was a good provider and Damien insisted that even without his dad around much, he still had a good life. You don’t think much of it until you start noticing little things; condescending responses when you tell him you’re leaving to go train with Cassian. “Enjoy it—a wife of mine will be too busy with our children to be running about playing with swords.”

You bite your tongue, deeming it too soon in the relationship to give him a piece of your mind and falling into a placating role is anything but love inducing. “You’re entitled to your opinion. It’s awfully early to be talking about that sort of thing anyway.”

Damien shrugs it off, already bored with the conversation and moving onto another. “Either way, I’d still like to meet them—your family,” Your eye twitches at the way he says it; like just because it wasn’t by blood that it wasn’t something real. “Get to know the people who’ve been stealing you away from me all week.”

You comply with a strained smile, dread beginning to settle in when you bring it up to Rhysand a few days later. You downplay it, reiterating multiple times that it wasn’t obligatory in hopes that he and the other would be busy for now and the foreseeable future.

Of course, that’s not the case.

“Don’t be silly, we’d love to meet your new boyfriend.”

He doesn’t miss the way you cringe at the title. “Oh, that’s just—that’s just wonderful. Great.”

Your mood is no less sour three days later when you’re getting ready for said gathering, form stuffed in a little black dress you’d been saving for a special occasion and you figured now was a better time than ever. Plus, the confidence boost would help sooth the nerves that wouldn’t stop swarming beneath your skin.

“That’s a little short, Angel.”

You try not to roll your eyes at the pet name—soft and sweet and completely non-threatening. As if you hadn’t spent the entirety of your life beating your knuckles into the bones of men five times your size in a ring meant for close combat.

Still, your hands slide over the fabric, staring at your figure in the mirror when you murmur, “Not too bad though right? I thought it was really pretty.”

“Very pretty, just not for other eyes.” Damien gives you a small smile, warm palms cupping at your arms when he continues as if he��s doing you a favor. “I’ll let it slide though, just this once.”

“How generous.”

It takes everything in you not to scream when he makes a point to throw a long cardigan over his arm before you leave; trying to distract you by asking for a full run down of everyone and you’re quick to skip over the fact that maybe, once upon a time, you and Azriel were more than just friends. But the steaming, boiling anger subsides when you winnow him to the Night Court, his cheeks green as he struggled to keep his breakfast down.

Damien hated winnowing and for some reason that made you love it.

Even as you soothing rub his back, acutely aware of the eyes staring into your back from the entrance doors. Damien composes himself fairly quickly, sparing you a look when you’d promised he’d get used to it after a while. “It happens,” The High Lord of the Night Court greets, a friendly hand patting at Damien’s shoulder and you don’t miss the way Azriel’s eyes roll at the gesture. “Welcome, I’m Rhysand and this is my wife Feyre.”

Damien’s eyes go wide, making a move to bow to his knees but you stop him with a gentle smile. “I apologize, I’ve never really met a High Lord before.”

“He’s just Rhys right now,” You soothe, tugging him along to introduce him to the others and they can tell it’s a little overwhelming so you’re both quickly ushered to the sitting room. “The same Rhys who always splurges on the good shit—“ You cringe at the way Damien clears his throat, a brow raised at the profanity and you have to hide the burn of embarrassment for being checked in front of your friends. “Stuff. He always gets the good stuff.”

Nesta and Mor share a glance, watching you pour up a glass just for it to be swiftly snagged by your date who offers you one too but it’s significantly smaller. “Should take it slow, Angel. It’s not ladylike to get drunk when you’re being hosted.”

Your friends watch you nod with a tight smile, quietly thanking him for looking out before taking a slow sip.

Azriel scoffs in the corner, eyes rolling as he fills a glass of his own and your jaw clenched in response, an arm looping through Damien’s to show him around. You point at art you’ve seen a million times and nod every now and then when he runs off into a winded explanation of a vase he was sure was a prized possession but you were certain Rhys had gotten it from Mor as a gift three Winter Solstice’s ago.

Cassian wanders over, striking up casual conversation that you use as a chance to slip away, re-filling your glass much higher than respectable and took it back in one go with a glance over your shoulder. “Where’d you find this guy?”

“Do you actually care or are you being a prick?”

Rhysand lets out a laugh, hands tucked in his pockets as violet eyes scan the room. “Are you even allowed to say that word?”

You scoff, a hand swatting at his arm but you can’t smack away the embarrassment that appears. “This is exactly why I didn’t want you guys to meet him.” You lower your voice, fingers toying with the stitching on your dress. “We’ve only been seeing each other a few months. I didnt have enough time to—“

“To dump him before we found out about him?”

A pause, your lips purse and your fingers twitch for something stronger than whatever had been filling the decanter. “Fuck off, Rhys. Not everyone gets to have a fairytale ending like you do.”

His voice is softer, more careful and it takes effort to even hear what he’s saying. “Why don’t you just talk to him? I know you’ve seen him brooding in the corners.”

“Azriel made himself perfectly clear,” You hiss, no longer caring who saw when you reached out to grab a whole bottle of wine and all out ripped the cork free. “He can brood in the corners for the rest of our lives for all I care.”

Your form radiates agitation, positivity seething over a nearly overflowing glass before taking hefty gulps to quench the rage but it only seems to fuel it. Taking you back to that night, the cool breeze sifting through a dragging duvet while standing on the balcony with Az. You could still feel the afterglow, body radiating perfect health and contentment when he finally faces you, a grimace on strong features. “I think I have feelings for Elain.”

It hadn’t even amounted to much, grazing fingers and hushed conversations; strolls in the garden and hours hunched over a table putting together puzzles.

But Elain didn’t want more, barely grasping at the strings of her life as she knew it and more anger burns when you’re robbed of the ability to enjoy it. Enjoy him being hurt a fraction of the amount you’d been but the feeling never comes, just breathtakingly aching love—the need to hold and cradle him close and make promises you weren’t positive you’d be able to keep. “I’m sorry,” Rhys rests a hand on your shoulder but you’re quick to shift away from it.

“Forget it, can we just hurry this night along?”

He nods stiffly, lips pursed at your agitation but it doesn’t stop him from swiftly blocking you from sight when Damien begins walking over, offering enough time for you to finish your glass and ditch the bottle. “Anyone hungry?”

Nesta grins beside her mate, a knowing look in her eye when she sits down, tugging Cassian along with her and it takes a moment too long to realize that she’d directed every seat be filled—except the one before you. Teeth grind against each other when the shadowsinger sits down, chair creaking against the hardwood as he scoots in until you felt the tips of his shoes against your own. “Absolutely ravenous.”

Azriel doesn’t play nice, smirking to himself over his mashed potatoes when those familiar shadows creep under the table, licking up your ankles and leaving goosebumps in their wake. You tense, grip slipping on your fork and Damien raises a questioning brow. “You okay?”

You refrain from looking at the dark haired man across from you and force a smile. “Perfect,” You lean in for a kiss, lips millimeters away when Damien’s head turns to the side, choking on nothing but air. It passes rather quickly but your hands curl into fists under the table, swatting away the shadows curling around your knees, teasing at your thighs.

“Damien, do tell us how you two met?”

Mor doesn’t acknowledge your grateful stare but you’re certain she’d noticed it, biding you just enough time to swiftly throw Azriel a look that could kill—but it only seems to spur him on further. “I ran into her in the city, asked her out to apologize.”

“Clumsy, are you?”

Az doesn’t even acknowledge your heels stomping at his foot, smirk growing over the rim of his wine glass and you straighten in your seat. “I try not to be but when in the presence of such beauty,” Damien grazes his knuckles against the curve of your cheek, watching as you pile food on your plate. “She didn’t have such an appetite back then though—slow down it’s not going anywhere.”

A brow raises, hands freezing in their place, serving spoon hovering in midair as his words settle but you’re quick to recover. Offering a smile, you put the spoon back, returning the dish to its place.

A beat of time passes in complete silence.

“Excuse me?”

“Az, don’t.” Maybe it’s the nickname that slips—one Azriel hadn’t heard you use in months—that forces him to clamp his mouth shut but the way golden eyes go dark is unmistakable. The others are staring; more so at your date than you but ever so gracefully you take control of the situation, resting a hand lovingly on Damien’s shoulder, sparing a quick kiss there over the cotton of his shirt. “It’s fine, he’s right, I had a big lunch.”

Rhys takes over, directing small talk and grilling Damien with subtle questions. Where he was from. His parents and their lineage and you wince slightly at the way he describes the relationship between his parents. “I suppose my family is like any other. My father always raised me to be a strong male who provides and instills order within his home and my mother handles the other duties—certainly none of this fighting mess my angel seems intent on participating in.”

Nesta perks up in her seat, fork scraping against her plate. “She’s actually really good—taught me when I first got here.”

“Be that as it may,” Damien doesn’t even seem to notice the displeased looks directed at him, the shared glances and mental conversations about just how fucking awful they thought he was. But, none of them say a thing, intrigued by your lack of irritation. In fact, you looked quite pleased with yourself, sparing the spymaster quick glances after each degrading comment—like you were getting off on his growing anger. “It’s just not how I was raised. Playing with swords isn’t where she belongs.”

“And where exactly do you feel she belongs?” It’s a loaded question and judging by the low growl that laces Azriel’s words you know Damien’s answer will dictate how the rest of the night goes. If he’d be able to leave the house in one piece.

Damien shrugs as if the response is as easy as breathing, not aware in the slightest of the cobalt glow beginning to push through the thickness of Azriel’s leathers. “In the—“

“Dessert?” You sharply interject, standing abruptly and smoothing the wrinkles in your dress. “Come help me carry it out.” You don’t even look back, ears catching on the linen cloth smacking against the table before the gentle scratch of the chair. You don’t make a sound until you’re behind the kitchens double doors, fingers raking through your hair when you spin around.

Damien is not behind you.

Azriel is, and he’s entirely too close, stalking forward with a growing snarl on god-like features. All sharp cheekbones and a dark brow, even darker hair that falls over his forehead and tickles at the nape of his neck but your eyes are caught on the shape of his mouth. The ripple of his nose and the tightly strung cord of his jaw as he cages you to the counter. “Dump him.”

The smell of his cologne nearly knocks you clean off your feet and your body’s reaction to the proximity was steadily becoming the ultimate betrayal. “What?” He watches you shake yourself from the momentary stupor, a hand smacking at his chest but Azriel doesn’t so much as flinch. “Are you crazy?”

“I will go fucking batshit if you keep throwing yourself all over that sorry excuse of a male.”

It’s the promise coating each syllable that has your thighs clenching but it’s the large hand that ghosts over your silhouette that has arousal pooling in your underwear. Azriel tracks the slow swallow you take, the roll of your throat and it’s like you’re catapulted back in time. Back when it would’ve been your right to lean forward and press your mouth to his, to let those hands roam wherever they pleased as long as he was planning on reciprocating the pleasure. Your fingers clench at your sides at the very thought and there’s no hiding your scent in the air. “You don’t get to do this. You wanted her—you chose her.” Your heart slams against your chest so hard you feared an imprint would begin to form. There’s nowhere to run; nowhere to go that wasn’t completely engulfed in everything Azriel and you have to close your eyes as to not get lost in the familiar touch of his shadows on your skin. “We are over.”

“No, we aren’t.” He noses at your cheek, free hand curling at the side of your neck to make room and you swear at yourself for allowing it. For falling victim to his fucked up game and the way he seemed to know exactly where to touch; plush lips pressing the softest of kisses along your racing pulse and he fucking groans. “It isn’t over—we’ll never be over.” So low and deep, hand tightening ever so slightly at your neck in such a claiming gesture that you have to rip yourself from the delusions beginning to set root. “You will always be mine.”

“You’re insane if you really think that’s true.” Hopefully it sounds more sure than it felt coming out and it takes every ounce of strength you have to pull away, to push through the thick cloud of darkness surrounding you until the glow of the lights were visible again. Fluffy cakes and neatly iced cookies rest on elegant trays and you can’t seem to stop yourself from grabbing one and retreating as far away as possible. “Absolutely insane.” A choked yelp escapes when you bump into the wall, mouth stuffed full of sweet dough and light icing to occupy from the grating thought of dropping to your knees and letting him shove his cock as far back as your throat could allow.

“I can be,” He nods, a smile pulling on his handsome features and your gut clenches. “I’ll be nice and ask you one time to break up with him.”

“And if I don’t?”

Shadows slink up the back of your legs, over your ass—higher and higher until they wrap ever so delicately around your neck. “Then, I’ll kill him.”

[dfortrafalgar]

Distraction

Portgas D. Ace x Fem!Reader

You and Ace intended to spend the day at the beach, but he can’t seem to be able to relax.

Warnings: modern au, so much smut. like so much smut. wet, sticky smut. 69-ing briefly. reader is also written to be on the chubbier side (im projecting <3) ace fucks you in the back of his car, basically. MINORS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.

I woke up thinking about Ace today so I cranked this out in, like, an hour. It was a nice change of pace while I've been finishing up IMLY and the Luffy fic from my poll, which is almost done! (speaking of which, thank you for 200 followers <3)

Ace hadn’t seen your swimsuit yet.  All he knew about it was that you purchased it recently on a shopping trip with a group of your friends, but it was currently concealed under a light t-shirt and denim shorts.  Throughout the drive to the shoreline, he was anxiously eyeing your bare thighs, his grip on the steering wheel of his station wagon turning his knuckles white.

“What’s got you so nervous over there?”  Your airly voice shook the freckled man out of his daze.  “Eyes on the road, hotshot.”

“It’s nothing,” he blurted, pouting and turning his attention back to the road.  Maybe he should have you sit in the backseat when your skin was exposed.

His own friends often joked that he was no better than a dog.  It wasn’t his fault that his sex drive was higher than cruising altitude… or maybe it was.  But he couldn’t help his wandering eyes when the soft skin of your plush thighs was exposed, or the way your deft hands fiddled with your cuticles as you stared out the window, sparkling eyes taking in the cloudless summer day as the backroads passed by on the drive to the beach.  Most of your evenings together were spent with either his head between your legs, your head between his legs, or your face smushed into a soft pillow while Ace desperately railed you from behind.

It was a good life, that’s for sure.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been to the beach,” you suddenly stated, turning your head to look at your flustered boyfriend.  “I’ve only ever been swimming in pools recently!”

“Yeah, me too,” he replied, his voice shaky.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concern.  “Ace, are you really alright?  Your face is kind of red.”  You reached your hand over to press your palm to his forehead.  “You don’t feel like you have a fever, do you?”

“Nah, I feel fine.  Honestly.  Just… thinking.”  One of his hands left the steering wheel to rub his sweating palm against the fabric of his swim trunks.  All he had on, other than the baggy trunks, was a white tank top that had a very unfortunate oil stain around the chest area.  He was sure his entire upper body was flushing red with the debauched thoughts that plagued his weary brain.  He hadn’t even seen your bathing suit yet and his mind was running in circles.  (He started to debate calling up that therapist that Sabo recommended.)

“Well, tell me if you really don’t feel good.  I don’t want you to force yourself to be out today just because of me,” you cooed, your voice soft and comforting.

He needed to tell you to stop talking.  Even the sound of your voice made butterflies swarm in his gut.

He might as well have been ovulating.

After what felt like an eternity, the trees surrounding the backroad route he had taken began to dissipate, replaced with the beautiful sight of the shoreline.  The ocean spanned outward as far as you could see, disappearing along the horizon and blending in with the bright blue sky.  A few small beach houses dotted the shore.

“You said this was a public beach, right?” you asked curiously.

Ace nodded, swallowing a thick glob of spit.  “Public, but very minimal.  There’s some private properties surrounding it so a lot of people assume the entire place is off-limits to locals, but there’s a small parking lot set back from the beach near a tiny bathroom shack-lookin’ thing.”

You grinned.  “Nice.”

“Do you not like public beaches?” he inquired, tossing you a side eye as he pulled further down the road, approaching the aforementioned parking lot.

“I don’t mind them,” you replied.  “But sometimes really busy beaches make me nervous.  Sometimes I don’t feel comfortable swimming when there’s too many people around… I get self-conscious in my bathing suits!”  Your statement was punctuated with a fluttering, nervous laugh as you involuntarily squeezed the skin of your thighs.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that when I’m here,” Ace replied, flashing you a cheeky grin.

The parking lot seemed sparse.  It was entirely gravel with a few decrepit wooden fences separating where cars could park, some overgrown weeds poking through the impacted dirt here and there.  Sure enough, there was a brown, run-down bathroom shack between the beach and the parking lot.  During high tide, it almost seemed like the entire area would get flooded, but the gravel was drier than bone thanks to the beating sunlight.

You dug through your bag, removing a tube of sunblock.

“I thought you already put on sunscreen before we left,” Ace said, pulling into a spot and putting his beat-up station wagon in park.

“I did, I’m just putting some extra on my face,” you responded, uncapping the tube and squeezing some of the white gel onto your fingers.  You deftly rubbed the lotion onto your skin, across your cheeks and brow, down your nose, and down your neck.  

Ace needed to look away from you as your hands trailed down your neck and across your collarbones, ridding your hands of the excess lotion.  You weren’t provoking him on purpose, he knew that, but clearly his dick was taking charge of the day.

Little prick.

The two of you excitedly exited the car, grabbing your small umbrella and towels to find a nice spot to set up camp on the sand.  You were quick to lay down your towel when you found a spot, Ace digging a deep hole into the ground to mount the umbrella and provide a shelter from the beating sunlight.  Only a few other people were dotted around the beach, mostly older folk who were most certainly retired and enjoying their elderly days basking in the sunlight.  The thought made you smile.  You watched with glittering eyes as Ace pulled his tank top over his lean body, his muscular chest rippling with his movements, letting the cloth fall into his bag in a wrinkled heap.

“Oh, shit, forgot the cooler,” Ace mumbled suddenly.  “I’ll be right back.”  He swiftly turned tail and hiked through the sand back to his car.

You smiled, crawling under the umbrella and feeling the sand beneath the fabric shift below your knees.  You slid your denim shorts down your legs, shifting your weight to pull them off before folding them neatly and tucking them into your beach bag.  Your shirt followed, your hands hooking under the bottom hem and pulling it up over your head, repeating the process of folding it and storing it away.  Weirdly enough, you felt more comfortable on this beach than any other.  While some old folk liked to gab, the sparse population on this beach seemed more than willing to keep to themselves.  And there was no risk of creepy men your age or obnoxious teenagers to toss rogue comments about your body or shitty pick-up lines.

And you had Ace, of course, who would kiss the ground you walked on if you asked.  The thought made your stomach flutter with glee.

Back in the parking lot, Ace was quick to haul open his trunk and grab the small cooler they had packed with water, some sodas, and some light snacks, slinging it over his bare shoulder and slamming the door closed.  The hinges made a terrible squealing noise as the door moved.  He really needed to get that fixed.  He quickly jogged back to the shoreline with the cooler bag in his possession, his sandals making scuff marks in the gravel.

He almost died and came back to life when he saw you from behind.

Your clothes were off, your body hugged in a bikini that looked sculpted for you and only you.  The strawberry-print bodice was tied around your neck and below your shoulder blades with thin straps, the front of the suit being held together in the front with a metal ring between the bust.  Your plump breasts peeked over the seams slightly, making blood rush to Ace’s face.  The solid-colored bottoms squeezed your hips and ass perfectly, with one side open and held together with strings in an intricate criss-cross pattern.

Ace’s feet were moving on their own, his soul ascending from his body as he floated toward you.

You heard the rustle of his swim trunks from behind you as you approached, turning to look at him over your shoulder.  “Hey!  All set with the cooler?”

He plopped to his knees on his own towel, the cooler hitting the ground with a thud.  “Yeah, all set…”  His voice trailed off as if he wanted to say something else.

You gazed at him with confusion painting your features.

“You… you look…”  Ace could barely look at you.  “You look so fucking hot… oh my god.”

Suddenly, his demeanor in the car made much more sense.  The constant red flush painting his adorable freckled cheeks, his mouth in a perpetual tongue-tie, his lips pursing together tightly as he struggled to keep his composure.  Your lips pulled into a bright smile, relishing in the flustered behavior of your boyfriend.

“Aww, thank you, baby!” you cooed, moving closer to him.  Your hands trailed down his arm, ghosting over the tattoo on his bicep before teasingly falling to the cooler and unzipping the top, pulling an orange soda out of the bag.

“Please don’t tease me, I think I might explode,” Ace huffed.

You popped open the can with a satisfying click, taking a quick sip from the opening.  “You know… I don’t think anyone’s going to mess with our stuff if you want to go back to the car…”

Ace’s dark eyes darted toward you, assessing the mischievous expression on your face as you kept the cold soda can pressed against your mouth.  The metal was rapidly developing condensation thanks to the heat in the air, droplets of water dripping down the orange can and onto your fingers, plopping against your folded knees.

He carefully removed the soda from your hands, tucking it back into the cooler to make sure it didn’t spill, before standing up and hauling you to your feet, dragging you by your hand across the hot sand and back to the parking lot for a third time.  He ripped his car keys from the pocket of his swim trunks, shoving the metal key into the door lock to open the vehicle before leading you to the trunk and popping open the door.  You quickly clamored inside, him following behind you and closing the trunk from the inside.  He chucked his keys somewhere towards the front of the car.

He wasted absolutely no time in smashing his lips against yours, making you wince slightly at the feeling of his teeth hitting your own, but the way his long fingers expertly groped the skin of your breasts below your bikini top made you forget about the momentary discomfort.

After a few stifling moments, Ace pulled away and heaved into the skin of your neck, holding you down by your shoulders.

The best part about him owning an old, refurbished station wagon was the ample amount of room in the back, as well as the lack of center console between the two front seats.  It was a car built for fucking.

“Is this what you were thinking of on the ride over here?” you asked, a coy tone on your tongue.  “About what my new swimsuit would look like?”

Ace grumbled, a childish pout on his lips as one of his hot hands continued to rub patterns up and down your side.  Up to your breasts, his thumb ghosting over your concealed nipple, trailing down your waist and groping the plush flesh of your belly, down your thigh to squeeze your ass.  The way the strings on the exposed side of your bottom piece fit into your skin made his cock throb.

“You’re insatiable,” you giggled, your own hands leaving scorching patterns over his shoulders and arms.  “Are you ovulating?  You’re acting like me before my period.”

“Shush,” he grumbled, followed by another sweltering kiss, all tongue.  You felt a dribble of spit leave the corner of your mouth, sticking to the skin of your cheek.  His lips moved against yours, exchanging a blistering heat.  Ace always seemed to radiate warmth even on the coldest days, and his presence in this moment filled your body with a heated, lustful buzz.  Goosebumps rose on your skin when he pulled away from you leaving your front exposed, gently biting your puffy lower lip with his teeth.

“How worried are you about someone messing with our things on the beach?” he asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

You adjusted yourself slightly below him, his knees beside your hips caging you onto the floor of his trunk.  “Hmm… not too worried.”

“Perfect,” Ace replied swiftly, tugging his swim trunks down.  

He had such a nice cock, perfectly shaped with a cut tip that flushed a beautiful rosy hue.  A slight upward curve, lean and not too long, perfect.  He was either hard for the entire time you were setting up your small spot on the sand and you hadn’t noticed, or he was fighting with every fiber in his body to keep the erection at bay.  Whatever the circumstance, the fantasy of spontaneously fucking you in the trunk of his car in that sexy bikini of yours that he daydreamed about on the drive down was finally coming true.

Your hands made a move down to your hips to pull on the fabric of your bottoms before his fingers wrapped around your wrists, halting your movement.

“Sorry,” he uttered, his voice a soft whisper filled with a desperation you rarely saw from him.  “Your suit stays on.”

Your mouth morphed into a grin as he released you, leaning back up on his knees and idly stroking his cock with his right hand.  You parted your legs for him, making a show of smushing your breasts together under your tight top.  God, your suit could have been molded onto your body, it looked so good.

“Are you going to stay there and jerk off over me, or are you going to share some of the fun?” you asked deviously, one of your hands crawling below your bottoms and teasing your clit with the slick that had built up.  A pleasant, tingling flutter resonated in your belly and floated down your thighs, but nothing was better than the feeling of his fingers and cock doing the work for you.

“I want to do everything to you,” he muttered, releasing his dick from his slow ministrations.  “I don’t even know where to begin.”

You watched as it bobbed in the air, so hard it held itself out away from Ace’s toned stomach.  You involuntarily licked your lips at the sight.  “You’re so pretty…” you muttered.  You took it upon yourself to sit up, gently pushing against Ace’s shoulders to get him to sit on the trunk floor on his ass, leaning against him further to get the hint to lay down in the position you had just been in.

Neither of you had a strictly dominating or strictly submissive attitude.  Rather, you mutually shared the moment, taking charge when you wanted and snatching the lead away whenever you pleased.  This was one of those moments as you rotated your body on top of his, moving your ass closer to his face as one of your hands ghosted along his hip bone, your other arm supporting you and keeping you upright.

Ace got the hint almost immediately, his greedy hands groping and squeezing your ass as he pulled you downward to rest your clothed cunt against his mouth.  The hotness of his breath and the feeling of his lips against your weeping pussy concealed by the polyester made your breath hitch as your lips traveled closer and closer to the tip of his dick, watching hungrily as it seemed to pulse in the air, desperate for attention.

Your boyfriend made the first move, pulling you down by your hips and resting your cunt over his mouth, his tongue forcing its way between your folds through the suit and quickly finding your clit.  You gasped, your arm shaking somewhat as you quickly followed his lead, wasting no time in taking his cock into your hot, ready mouth.  

And goodness, did he taste good.  A familiar slightly salty musk partnered with the residual scent of his daily body spray, a vanilla and cedar flavor that always made your heart flutter in your chest.  His cock might as well have been burning as you hollowed out your lips and took him further down your mouth, loving the way the organ pulsed against your tongue.  

On the other end, Ace’s fingers had found their way into the fabric of your bathing suit, holding the barrier aside as two of his digits spread your natural slick over your cunt and lubricated his skin before he pressed them into your pussy, addicted to the way your muscles constricted around him.  Your entrance was always on the tighter side no matter how many times you fucked, and it was absolute heaven for him.  He turned the pads of his two fingers forward, pushing gently against the roof of your vagina where he knew you were acutely sensitive, and smirked to himself when your thighs clenched around his head.  Your movements over his cock momentarily stuttered at the feeling of his thumb connecting with your clit to simultaneously stroke the needy bud while passionately fingering your pussy.

He knew you too well.  He knew what you needed.  Ace wasn’t a selfish lover, he had learned your quirks and needs very early on in your relationship.  You loved your clit rubbed in somewhat slow circles, alternating between various pressures.  You responded to his fingers against your g-spot, and you loved when his dick curled upward into the same area.  Not too deep so as to hit your cervix, which hurt you quite a bit, but deep enough to reach those sensitive areas that had your legs shaking.

You learned quickly too, however.  Ace’s tip was the most sensitive part of him, his breaths growing shallow when you delicately sucked your lips around it and trailed your tongue along the slit, collecting the small amount of salty precum that emerged from the tip.  He loved it when you gently fondled his balls, rubbing the wrinkled skin between the pads of your fingers.  He adored the inside of his thighs being caressed, and you tried your best to do both with one hand as the other trembling appendage fought to support your weight as you continued to blow him.

You popped off of his cock momentarily, stroking the base with your hand.  “Did you have fruit recently?” you asked, turning your head somewhat to look over your shoulder.  Not like you could see much.

Ace paused his motions against your pussy.  “... Maybe.”

You grinned, the usually salty, bitter taste of his essence now replaced with something slightly sweeter.  You wanted to egg him on, to ask him if he had planned for this to happen and eaten some pineapple or citrus with his breakfast in preparation, but you decided to keep your inquiries to yourself and return to your task of sucking him off.

Ace was content to keep fingering you, his current position in between your thighs a bit too difficult to involve his tongue, but he knew he could please you regardless.  The circular movements of his calloused thumb against your throbbing clit had you sucking in sharp, lustful breaths through your nose, small whimpers leaving your throat and vibrating down his shaft making him bite his lip and stifle a wheeze.  Your thighs were quivering as he continued to curl his fingers into your g-spot, following the rhythm of your lips around his cock.

After some moments, however, you quickly scrambled off of him, your hand clutching around your stomach as you pivoted above him, capturing his lips in yours.  You ground your clothed cunt over his pulsing cock, keeping it locked between your pussy and his toned abdomen.

“Now who’s the desperate one?” he asked, teasingly, his signature boyish smirk traveling right back to your clit.

“I can’t help it, you’re contagious,” you huffed against the skin of his cheek.

Usually, the two of you used lube.  It didn’t matter how wet you got thanks to foreplay, the sensations were always heightened when there was no risk of chafing.  But clearly, you didn’t have that luxury today.  Nor did you have any condoms.  Instead, you bit down your thoughts, reserved yourself to spending 70 beri on the morning-after pill later that day, and hovered over his cock.  You pulled your swimsuit to the side and took his dick in your hands, wasting no time in slipping it through your folds that were thoroughly drenched thanks to Ace’s expert fingers.  

The first insertion always hurt somewhat.  A slight, red-hot throbbing pain that radiated through your pelvis, followed by a pleasant pressure as his cock slowly intruded into your tight muscle.  The groan that radiated from Ace’s throat made your pussy flutter.  

That was another thing you loved about him.  He was loud.

Maybe on a normal day you’d be worried about someone hearing you, or seeing the way his car shook with the force of your collective moments, but both of you had succumbed to desperation and couldn’t care less.  Traumatize the elderly beach goers who might happen to walk through the gravel parking lot to their own cars.

You sunk fully down onto Ace’s hips, his dick perfectly nestled inside your wet and willing pussy as his hands tightly gripped your hips through your suit bottoms.  You slowly rocked your hips, desperate for some extra friction against your clit.  It was much harder with the fabric covering you, but eventually you found a movement that felt just right.  Edging your hips slightly forward, you rolled your pelvis against his, dragging your clothed slit over the taught skin of his lower abdomen, moaning at the feeling of his dick pulsing within you.

Maybe you really didn’t have to worry about lube today.  Every motion against the walls of your vagina had you biting your lip and arching your back over him.

Ace’s hands assisted with bouncing you on his cock, his voice slowly increasing in volume as he watched you through half-lidded as your breasts jiggled with each movement, how the fat of your belly and thighs rippled so deliciously as you gyrated above him.  His voice was delectable, gruff and whiny, higher-pitched than usual with stuttering breaths and hitches in his throat that had your heart beating a mile a minute.

Your legs were growing tired, and Ace could tell.  He wordlessly beckoned you off of him, being quick to lean you over the back seats and move your suit to the side again, slipping his cock back in between your folds.  This angle always fit the both of you.  As much as Ace loved it when you rode him, taking you from behind came with many more benefits.  His free hand could travel down to dip beneath the cloth of your swimsuit and rub those delicious circles against your clit while simultaneously thrusting his desperate hips against your ass.  His chest pressed into your shoulder blades, his free hand supporting him against the back of the seats as you held onto the leather for dear life, whining with each motion of his cock against your inner walls and his calloused fingers against your clit.

It didn’t take long for you to unravel, the feeling of his rough finger pads against your desperate nub too much to bear.  Your orgasm approached slowly at first, filling your stomach with warmth, the insides of your eyelids flashing purple and indigo, before your body snapped and you were shuddering against Ace, moaning out loud as your pussy involuntarily clenched around his cock, your cunt feeling feather light as it fluttered.  The force of your orgasm caused you to gyrate your hips back against his, weak, airy moans escaping your tongue as the red-hot pleasure radiated through your entire body leaving your pussy buzzing with the aftershocks.

Ace was barely holding it together.  The force of your orgasm causing your pussy to clench around his cock had his arms weakening against the seat, his hips frantically rutting into you as sultry moans left his lips at the feeling of his cock burning inside you, begging for satisfaction.  His fingers never stopped rubbing your clit, caught up in what had essentially become second nature for him.  The overstimulation had you twitching around him, shallow breaths heaving from your lungs.  Ace’s pace increased as did the stuttering of his hips, his thrusts growing more shallow as his own orgasm approached.

“A-Ace… fuck, baby…” you whined, dropping your forehead against the back of the seat.  “You’re gonna make me cum again…”

The man was too caught up in the throes of pleasure.  Calling him desperate earlier was clearly an understatement.  A loud, throaty groan reverberated from his lips as his hips rapidly drilled into you, forcing you against the back of the seat.  His shallow breaths only helped to fuel your second orgasm that rocked you with a sudden wash of white light behind your eyes and you were shuddering against him again, your own moans filling the stifling air of the car.  

Ace barely had time to call out your name before he was thrusting disjointedly into you, crackled, weary moans leaving his lips as he came into your sore cunt, his hands pressing down onto your lower back to keep you still as he buried his cock into you, soaking you more than you already were.  You felt him pull out of you, your cunt fluttering around nothing as the sound of him falling backwards against the closed door of his trunk filled your ears.

Your own spent body dropped to the side, sitting on your hip and barely holding yourself up with one hand.  You slowly picked your head up, gazing at your boyfriend and assessing his condition.

Black hair mussed beyond belief, his freckled cheeks and shoulders flushed with a delicate red hue, his lips wet and swollen parted with the force of his labored breathing.  His eyes were closed, jaw slack as his pelvis continued to twitch from the force of his orgasm.  A few last drops of cum were bubbling from his tip, slowly dripping down his drenched dick that almost glistened, covered in your own fluids.  You felt wet between your legs.  It would have been a nice feeling if you weren’t already so stifling, your entire body feeling sticky.  You finally noticed the way the windows had fogged up.  You didn’t have time to think about carbon dioxide toxicity before Ace’s weary hand traveled up to the back window of his trunk door, blindly popping the window open a crack to let some fresh air flow into the car.  The summer heat felt oddly cool against your sweaty skin.

You slowly crawled closer to Ace, ignoring the way your drenched cunt sat uncomfortably inside your bathing suit.  You combed a damp strand of black hair off of his forehead before delicately pressing your lips against his cheek, encouraging him to finally open his eyes.

“You alright?” you asked, your voice low and quiet.

He finally smiled, his narrow, dark eyes filling your chest with warmth.  “I think my heart almost stopped.”

You giggled, running your sweaty hand up and down his skin.  “Should I wear bathing suits around you more often?  I don’t think you’ve ever fucked me like that.”

Your boyfriend’s humble laughter made you grin.  “For the sake of my health, you probably shouldn’t.”  He finally leaned forward to press a tender kiss against your wet lips.  “Though, if I were to die fucking you in a bikini, I’d die a very, very happy man.”

[inuyashaluver]

can you write a jessie x hockey!r, where r gets into a fight during one of her games and jessie is watching from the stands with some of the chelsea players? thx

cheeky - jessie fleming

jessie fleming x reader

description: in which your girlfriend brings her friends to her cheeky girlfriend’s game

warnings: jessie still plays for chelsea!! let’s pretend ucla offers women’s hockey 🫠 swearing, mentions of a fight, suggestive

a/n: you guys don’t understand how much this request has infiltrated my tiny brain, thank you you so so much, my love, enjoyyyyy

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, jessie were quite literally some of the nicest people alive. every time someone was around the two of you for either a short or long time, they came out feeling lighter, happier and all round just more positive.

you and jessie just radiated love, a special bond between the two of you that was just undeniably beautiful.

—

you and jessie met at a college party years ago. you both went to ucla yet never crossed paths until this party. you weren’t really a party goer and neither was jessie, you both found refuge in the backyard of the house you were at.

both of your friend groups had unknowingly ditched you and you both wanted some air, away from all the drunk frat boys and sorority girls.

“sorry, do you mind if i sit here?” you ask the brunette where she sat on a small bench. her head snapped up from her phone at hearing a familiar accent. canadian.

“oh, yeah, go ahead!” jessie stutters, scooching over a little and patting the spot next to her. you smile at her gratefully, sitting down with an exaggerated huff.

jessie lets out a laugh when you sat, both of you looking at each other with bright smiles. you both thought the other was breathtakingly gorgeous, feeling like the party was a little worth it at this point.

“you sick of seeing people basically fucking each other everywhere too?” you ask her with a shake of your head, your eyes falling on a couple making out in a way that should definitely be behind a closed door.

jessie chuckles, looking down at the cup in her hand and nodding while taking a sip of it. “that and my friends ditched me” she rolls her eyes, you nudge her shoulder with yours, “mine too, don’t worry” you grin, making her return one shyly.

“i’m (y/n) by the way” jessie smiles, repeating the name in her head that she would surely never forget.

“jessie” you smile at her, pink cheeks a little evident on the both of you when you made eye contact again.

“sorry if this is weird but are you from canada?” jessie asks nervously, your eyes widen comically, your face brightening at the girl's question.

you didn’t really have many friends from back home who came to the states for college. sure there was a bunch of canadian girls at college but none of them were this pretty. or this easy to talk to.

“i am! don’t tell me you are too?” you question, jessie smiled at your excitement, her heart beating quickly at your glistening eyes. she nods, making you start rambling with where she was from.

you both continued to chat and it was scary how much you had in common.

the conversation was full of laughter, shared jokes and most definitely a shared attraction. “so, jessie, what do you do besides being an environmental warrior?” you say cheekily, the girl scoffs, slapping your thigh gently and rolling her eyes,

“i play soccer” she mocks, you give her an impressed smile as she explained how good she really was, “mhm, i should come and watch you sometime, superstar?” you flirt, giving her a charming smile that had butterflies swarming in her stomach.

you’d both gone far from friendly conversation, the flirting taking over after about 2 hours of you familiarising yourself with each other.

“yeah, maybe you should, and you? miss number solver?” she teases back, referring to you doing an accounting degree.

“i play hockey” you move a little so you could face her better and she does the same, although, her face has a shit eating grin on it.

“what’s so funny?” you narrow your eyes at her, “you’re so canadian” she laughs, you shake your head as she throws her head back in laughter, clearly enjoying how you’re not even defending yourself.

she encourages you to talk about your sport and to say she fell in love with you there was an understatement. you spoke with so much passion she really loved to see and hear it.

you also admit you fell in love with her when she talked about her sport, but even more with how intently she was listening to you, soaking in every word you said and clarifying things she didn’t understand.

you both felt something bubbling under the surface as you talked, so much so, when the party started to filter out, she asked if you wanted to get some ice cream and who were you to decline?

the teasing and the flirting throughout the whole night was so unbearable, you asked her out on a date without a second thought, smiling brightly when she accepted without any hesitation.

you both began to date after a few months, becoming one of the ‘it couples’ around campus when everyone could truly tell how much you were in love with each other.

you went to each other’s games with bright, adoring smiles, wearing each other’s jerseys with pride.

you had study dates together, most of the time getting distracted but neither part was complaining.

you were there for each other throughout all the ups and downs, talking and listening to one another for hours and somehow feeling not enough when you were with each other every second of the day.

you’d both established a career before you even graduated college, star athletes in the making in your respected sports.

you’d do anything for each other, so much so you moved with her to england when she signed her contract to chelsea.

—

while jessie played for chelsea, you still continued to play hockey in england also. it was hard being away from home but jessie made it all better.

your continual support for each other offering a sense of security that nothing else could. it also helped that you both represented canada nationally, often getting the opportunity to go home together.

—

the chelsea girls knew you too well, you came to every single game without fail with a bright grin on your face in the ‘fleming’ jersey that was almost worn as much as your own.

“your wife’s here” niamh teases as she warmed up with jessie before a match, the two of you weren’t married, or engaged even, not yet at least but this didn’t stop niamh from wishing you were, knowing how much her best friend adored you.

“where?” jessie grins, stopping all movement and frantically looking for you, niamh directs her head to where you were sitting in the friends and family section and her heart swelled with pride.

you wave at her brightly and she returns it instantly, her face growing warm at the smile you sent her, snapped out of her trance at niamh’s laugh. “such a sap” she smiles, jessie just gives her shoulder a little shove, continuing to warm up.

when the match was over after an easy win, jessie bounded over to you without a second to waste. “hi, baby” you smile as she walked into your arms, the barrier making it a little difficult but you both didn’t care.

“hi, gorgeous” jessie says breathlessly, pulling you into a sweet kiss with her hand on your cheek. you smile against her, your own hand on the side of her neck, your thumb brushing against her skin gently.

“my superstar” you say as you pull away, brushing away some stray hairs from her face before pulling her into a tight hug.

“gotta impress my wag, baby” she says cheekily, kissing your cheek repeatedly to make you giggle, working successfully like it did every time.

“i’m definitely impressed, baby canada” you smile, pressing another quick kiss to her lips as you pulled away slightly.

her hands make her way to your waist, rubbing up and down gently as you chatted, only lasting for a couple of seconds before you ushered her to interact with the fans.

“i’ll see you at home, beautiful” she winks, pecking your lips before running away, shouting a quick “i love you” over her shoulder that you quickly returned before leaving to drive home.

—

you had an upcoming game, an important one at that. you’d been nervous about it all week, jessie frequently having to calm you down so you could breathe. you were the captain, both for this team and the canada team so a lot of pressure fell on your shoulders.

the only reassurance you had was knowing jessie would be there, even inviting some of her teammates to come and watch you since they had the day off.

jessie wasn’t one to miss an opportunity where she got to ogle her talented girlfriend and show you off at the same time so she was extremely excited.

the morning of, let’s just say it was extremely difficult to get you out of the house.

“what if i fuck up?” you whine, turning from the door and walking back to jessie who was watching you from the doorway. “you won’t” she assures, pinching your cheek softly before turning you around and giving you a soft push to the door.

you turn back around, “what if something goes wrong?” you say nervously, “baby, you’ll be fine, we can deal with it” jessie chuckles, you throw your head back in annoyance.

the people who only knew you from hockey would be shocked to know you did this before every game. they’d be shocked to know how soft you were when it came to your girlfriend.

“i don’t want to go” you groan, jessie draws you in by your waist, her arms wrapped around them securely, “baby, you’ll be amazing, like always” jessie says earnestly, her brown eyes looking directly into yours so you knew she wasn’t lying.

“but you don’t know that” you pout, jessie quickly smiling before pulling you into a sweet kiss.

“i’m your girlfriend, i know everything” she says cheekily, pecking your lips a couple of times and managing to pull a small smile out of you.

“you go do your best, that’s all i want from you” she smiles, her hands now cradling your face as your arms wrap around her. “okay” you breathe out, determined.

smiling before pulling her into a breathless kiss that made both of you feel dizzy, sharing a quick i love you before she had to physically push you out of the house, knowing you’d convince her to stay.

—

jessie made her way to the arena in your jersey, your number written neatly tiny on her cheek. she was accompanied by niamh, zećira, aggie and hannah.

to say jessie got teased the entire time was an understatement but she didn’t care, she had no shame with the amount of love she had for you.

when you skated out on the ice with the ‘C’ over your heart, you had no ounce of nervousness at all. a complete contrast from the morning.

the truth is, on the ice, you were ruthless, completely contradicting how you were off the ice.

you carried yourself with complete confidence, expecting nothing but the best. you were a little rough but one of the best players and everyone knew it. you didn’t take any bullshit.

you were strategic, smart and calculated. you knew what you were doing and you were the captain both in this league and nationally for a reason. a team leader without fail. a role model, a borderline legend.

jessie and her friends cheered loudly for you when your name was announced on the loudspeaker. jessie watched as you waved around the arena before locking back in, skating around the ice in preparation for the game.

jessie was on the edge of her seat the entire time watching you, scoring 2 points in a short amount of time. you were playing exceptionally well, jessie’s heart swelled with pride but she was extremely nervous how this one player kept trying to rile you up.

she knew you didn’t take any disrespect and knew this girl was about to get her ass handed to her.

the girl was being overly physical with you and you would counter it every time. she was the other captain and knew she’d get thrown into the box if she tried anything too much. her behaviour was surprising.

but the girl continued, having the nerve to be near you every time with something to say every two seconds.

you’d ignore it, having dealt with people more annoying than this but it flipped when she started talking about jessie. your jessie.

she started with the insults about you until she said, “is your girlfriend some sort of puck bunny?” you fucking lost it.

you dropped your stick and both of you break out into a heated fight. fists flying before you grabbed her by her shirt, slamming her into the glass and spitting out words that we’re definitely not family friendly. jessie’s eyes were so wide in shock, never really seeing you in a fight like this before.

“talk about my girlfriend like that again and i’ll shove the puck down your fucking throat” you exclaim, getting pulled back by the referee and getting told to go to the penalty box.

you send a glare to the girl and she falters almost instantly before you skated to the box. you sat down with a huff, arms crossed over your chest as you watched your team dominate the other.

jessie shook her head while she looked at you, niamh and zećira cheering you on throughout the fight and even more now that you were in the box.

when your ten minutes was up, you played the rest of the game with passion, finishing with an easy and well deserved win. jessie ran down to where the change rooms were, her teammates waiting nearby.

jessie watched as you skated off the ice, catching your breath as you quickened your pace to jessie. her face was etched with worry as you approached, watching as you took off your helmet hastily and took out your mouth guard.

“hey, baby” you say brightly, bounding over and wrapping jessie up in a hug, your face instantly tucked into the crook of her neck, your cold nose brushing against her warm skin.

“for someone that just beat the shit out of someone, you’re very happy” she says amusingly, her arms wrapping around you without hesitation.

“she deserved it, trust me on that” and jessie did. you pull away from her at arms length, a cheesy smile plastered on your face as you looked at her.

“are you okay?” she asked, her voice clearly laced with worry, you nodded, kissing jessie’s cheek tenderly as you drew her a little closer.

“i’m fine, love, especially since my biggest fan is here” you grin, “you should see the other guy” you laugh as jessie slaps your shoulder lightly, “cheeky” she chuckles, pulling you into another tight hug in absolute relief you were okay.

you could tell she was on edge because of the circumstances, the hug telling you everything you needed to know. you hugged her tightly, letting her find solace in you and honestly calming you both down.

you wave over at her teammates when she pulls away and chat with them excitedly. you held onto jessie’s hand the entire time you all chatted, thanking them for coming and watching.

“what does that say on your stick?” niamh questions, you smile, moving your hand to show that you’d written jessie’s name with a little heart next to it on your tape, a tradition for you ever since you’d started dating.

“good luck charm” you grin, both of you getting teased for your bright pink cheeks. you say goodbye to them before they leave, turning back to jessie with a sweet smile. this is the side of you she knew the best. an absolute softie.

before you get changed, you draw jessie into another kiss, unable to stop yourself from smiling against her when she whined against your mouth.

you give her an amused expression, seeming as though she was a little riled up about the whole situation. “shut up” she groans, pushing you away by your chest slightly but you came right back, pressing a sweet peck to her lips,

“i didn’t say anything” you mumble against her, squeezing her hips gently before you ran to the change room, wanting to get back home as quick as possible.

let’s just say violence is never the answer but is excusable only for the way your girlfriend reacted to you when you both stepped through the door of your shared apartment.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

liked by niamhcharles17 and 44,232 others

_jessflem: you wouldn’t know she beat someone up 10 minutes before this but here we are

view all comments

yourname: so worth it

↳ _jessflem: really was actually

niamhcharles17: your girlfriend’s got a crazy fist on her but is SUCH a softie

↳ yourname: watch it niamhy

↳ _jessflem: biggest softie ever

↳ yourname: you’re supposed to defend me

↳ _jessflem: i love you?

↳ yourname: yeah. whatever. i love you too.

[blindmagdalena]

Hello!

Wonderful "Eat Your Ego, Honey" got me wondering:

what would happen if Homelander was interested in a stripper?

She's known for her dancing and, he sensed, her secret superpower/-s. Would he be furious that a girl dances in front of some "dirty" men? Would he torture her for being afraid of him? Would he be uncomfortable with the smell of her sweaty body?

I literally see scene of meeting: she's dancing to gothic metal in the dim lights of the room; Homelander is freaking out, jealous and horny (because he feels like she's having a blast dancing).

Thanks for your fanfics, I adore it! Because of your headcanons I fell in love with Homelander and decided to watch the series...

anon. the absolute RABBIT HOLE you sent me spiraling down with this ask is genuinely insane. firstly tho, thank you!! i'm so happy you enjoy my work and have been inspired to watch the show! i hope you love it as much as i did.

okay, now, onto the meat of this. i can't imagine Homelander ever being in a strip club, but i absolutely can see Vought having a dancer supe who performs at shows! and then i started thinking about what kind of powers she might have.

(this got long. strap in.)

and okay. bear with me here. i have the FAINTEST memory of a kids show (something like goosebumps or are you afraid of the dark) where they told a monkey-paw type story of a girl who wished that everyone would like/love her. and of course this turned out to be a fucking nightmare. people were obsessed with her automatically to a scary degree and she was eventually swarmed and maybe killed by the aggression of the adoring crowd? i don't remember.

but that made me think about her power being something of that nature. a chemical that compels people to adore her. when she sweats, and that sweat evaporates off of her skin, it fills the air people in the vicinity inhale it. it's what makes her dances so incredibly popular! but too much exposure to her powers can cause, uh... scary side effects in people. make them deranged. obsessive.

she hates it. it's destroyed all the relationships in her life. it's pretty much inevitable that she'll eventually effect the people around her, and it either freaks them out to the point they break contact with her or creates a completely inauthentic infatuation with her. it's impossible for her to know if anyone actually likes her, or if they're just under the influence of her powers.

she, like Homelander, would know what it's like to be "loved" in the most hollow sense of the word.

how cut to Homelander who's present at one of these shows where she's dancing and oh my god something smells incredible. downright intoxicating. it calls to every fiber of his being and he follows the scent of it until he's close enough to the stage, and it shocks him to his core to realize it's a person.

except! Homelander is so fucking chock full of V himself that he's not wholly affected by her... idk, pheromones? whatever you want to call her aura of effect. but he IS intrigued by it. by her. by the way her body moves and how she seems to have cast a SPELL on the entire audience.

he expects he'll be able to get a chance to speak with her after the performance, but bafflingly, she gets the FUCK outta there as soon as her set is done. naturally he has to follow!!!!

and okay i just had so many ideas for this! i even thought of One Single Friend she has who's a fellow supe and, due to his own powers, he's immune to her effect. i haven't figured out how exactly. maybe he doesn't breathe the way normal humans do. or he has some kind of innate filtration that makes him immune to gasses and things. his supe name is something stupid like... The Filtrator.

speaking of which her supe name would probably be like. Enchantress. something that alludes to the charming effect she has. but her friend knows how her powers work and he playfully calls her The Perspiren. perspiring siren. 😭😂

anyways i think they could have a lot of really interesting parallels! and of course Homelander would be intensely possessive of her, but he's also a HUGE exhibitionist and i think he would get off on knowing how badly everyone wants someone that's his.

he wouldn't ever physically hurt/torture her, but he would of course become violent if his possession of her were challenged or threatened in any way. if anyone touched what's his, or presumed they could take her. anyone she showed interest in would definitely wind up dead.

can you tell that i thought WAY too hard about this.

idk if i would make this an oc or a reader fic. i feel like this could definitely work for my first proper supe!reader fic! it's got a ton of potential. thanks so much for sending this!

[ghcstao3]

ahh, you guys got me, i’ll write more statue!ghoap (i was already planning to who are we kidding)

part 1

-

John is quick to learn that Simon is selective with his speaking.

He never asks questions, only makes observations. He listens to John’s rambling as he’s toured around the museum, only responds when necessary and never dares to greet other wandering exhibits.

John doesn’t mind. He’s long since learned how to fill silence.

Simon also seems to understand their limitations easily, finding his original pose with ease as the night comes to an end when John instructs him to, freezing in wait of dawn. John can’t help the fond smile that grows on his face watching him settle, lingering just before he’ll have to return to his own place.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” John says.

Simon never responds.

John watches Simon as he had the day prior, once he’s set himself right. He has to fight the smile that doesn’t seem to want to leave him just as the sun’s rays begin to illuminate the room.

Change, he may like, but it can’t always be afforded.

Simon is again constantly swarmed by observers and cameras, the centre of attention as new artwork often becomes for a week or so before the storm calms. John is comforted knowing that even in spite of this popularity, he’s the only one who gets to see what’s hidden behind the skull.

And how he can’t wait to see it again. How he can’t wait to see it every night following.

The museum’s opening and closing go by too slowly and mercifully quick all at once, and soon enough John is moving over to Simon yet again, excited to tell him all the things he’d thought of over the course of the day to share.

This time, Simon does relax with everyone else, but he doesn’t move from his pedestal until John reaches out his hand to help him down. The skull is left in his place as they go to wander.

It’s hours into the evening, when John has lost track of his rambling that Simon finally speaks for the first time that night.

“I don’t like how many people there are,” he remarks.

John has to pause a moment, bronze joints creaking at his sudden halt. He looks up at Simon and the distant expression that shadows his face, and finds himself rubbing a comforting hand along Simon’s bicep before realizing what he’s doing. Even still, Simon does not pull away.

“It’ll slow down in time,” John promises—he speaks entirely from experience, though he hadn’t ever thought much of the attention. “Just happens whenever there’s a newcomer, is all.”

A frown tugs at Simon’s face. “But I’m not new.”

John hums. “No,” he agrees. “But to them, you are. In a few days, everything will be quieter. It’s just the cycle for all of us.”

John already knows Simon’s tells for when he’s thinking. He wonders if it’s a cause of Simon’s expression being obscured by a mask for as long as he’s existed, up until the night before.

“I don’t like being a display,” Simon decides quietly, determinedly.

John knows the feeling. Knows it goes deeper than just wanting to be hidden away from thousands of pairs of eyes on the daily. Knows it stems from a want to be real.

“Me neither,” John says softly. Simon looks troubled—it takes strength to keep from trying to smooth the artificial crease in his forehead, a gesture he’s seen many times from museum goers, among many others. “But it’s either this, or be stuck in a crate, or under rubble and earth somewhere. Alone. It’s hard to avoid when it’s the purpose we were created with.”

It’s all something John had to grapple with himself, once upon a time. But he’s had decades, now, to get used to it.

He’s sure Simon will as well, in time. John can only help him to adjust.

“C’mon, let’s go visit the other exhibits from your time,” John proposes, gently taking Simon’s hand. “Maybe you’ll know a few of them.”

Simon doesn’t have much to say for the rest of the night as he follows along—but it’s alright. John revels in his company anyway.

He’ll come around, eventually. John is certain of it.

[courtingchaos]

An Excuse in the Form of Pie

Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Summary: A little Thanksgiving ditty for you, just a few days late. This is in my Rent universe but you can just read it on its own if you’d prefer. Takes place like a year into them dating.

Warnings: Sex

NSFW 18+ No Minors

Oh they shouldn’t have trusted either of you two to do shit asked of you. All Wayne had to do was huff at the cardboard box that he was unloading onto your mom’s counter and Eddie was at the front door with your hand in his.

“What’d you forget?” He asked it too enthusiastically, earning a hard side eye from Wayne.

“The buttermilk pie.”

“We can go grab it.” Eddie already had the door open with you nodding along behind him.

“It’s not a two person job.” Wayne’s gaze never falters off his nephew or you, just a raise of his eyebrows while you two practically jitter out of your skin.

“What if my hands get cold? We can share the load, right Samwise?” Eddie has mischief all over his face when he glances at you over his shoulder. It’s in the dimples on his cheeks and the crinkles around his eyes. Those shine with giddiness that he’s been trying to tamp down all morning.

Wayne relents wordlessly, a toss of his hands upwards and another huff. “Nothing wise about either of you.” Muttered as he turns to help your mom with the unwrapping of casseroles.

Your aunts came in two days ago and he hasn’t had a moment alone with you since, all of it spent at your place in your mom’s living room listening to three middle aged women gossip. It was fun for the first day but when he realized you were essentially being held hostage and he couldn’t get even a quick feel up in the hallway without someone calling for you. A trailer not much bigger than his own and it was swarming with people and you kept getting lost in the throws.

“How long before they send out a search party?” Eddie asks while stomping up his front steps and unlocking the door, everything done in a rush like he’s running from your extended family.

“Well bud, I think Wayne already knows.” Your laugh follows him into the dark trailer before he yanks you in with him.

“Bud?!”

“Yeah, my buddy that I sleep with.”

“Is that all I am to you?” He pulls you against his chest in the midst of giggles and a tangle of feet trying to rid themselves of shoes. “Just a warm buddy you can take advantage of?” He asks like he isn’t the one manhandling you down the short hallway to his room. Your protests fall on deaf ears though as he nods along all aloof like and blindly slaps around behind his back for his doorknob.

“Seriously Eddie we gotta be quick, I don’t want Wayne marching over.”

“Hey.” He pulls away to point at you. “You don’t get to make fun of me when it’s over in under a minute, capiche?”

You laugh into his mouth while trying to kiss him and also trying to pull at his belt. His hands immediately find their way under your blouse, a lavender colored satin thing your mother forced you into that morning. He’d made a comment about you looking like one of those sad porcelain clowns and you’d thrown a serving spoon at him.

Now though you can’t get enough of his teasing mouth. His teeth that nip and pull away to draw you closer to his bed, his tongue that sneaks out to lick at the corner of your lips.

“Eddie c’mon.” You whine when he dips his head to kiss under your jaw, his hands still skirting the edges of your bra under your shirt. “Get me out of this stupid thing.”

He’s already plucking at the covered buttons before you finish your sentence. “Say no more.” Undone, just like your bra apparently, his little magic trick he’s perfected in the almost year you two have been together. He tugs you with him to sit on the edge of the bed and with you barely in his lap, the phone trills from the kitchen.

“There’s that ten minute warning.” Your hands slow down on the zipper of his ‘nice’ jeans, coming to terms with the fact you weren’t going to get anything you wanted this week.

“Well fuck their ten minutes.” His hands are rough on the wool of your skirt where he pushes it up your thighs, fingers sneaking under the silky lining to find the crease of your hips. “It’s not like we’re eating pie first.”

“You might be.” Your laugh is soft between you. Breath pushed out from the tickling movement of his fingers along sensitive skin. He gets a grip on you though and rolls you onto your back, your legs kicking around until he settles between your knees.

“Unfortunately no.” His fingers hook on your underwear to pull them down quickly. “But I wouldn’t be opposed to sneaking away later for a slice.” He vaguely pushes his jeans aside, finishing the job you left undone. The phone stops finally and Eddie grins down at you looking flushed and disheveled and wanting. He wants to get you out of your holiday finest and keep you in his sheets while the sky is still grey with rain. He doesn’t want to make this quick just because he’s missed you for a few days but the ache in his boxers does make a persuasive argument.

“What are you smiling at?” You ask him, trying to reach out to pull him closer. He gets the idea and drops down on his elbows to crowd into your space, nose running down along your cheek to plant a kiss on your earlobe.

“You. I miss you.”

“I know. The aunts will be gone by Saturday and you can have me all to yourself till Monday.” You run fingers through his tangled hair and he sighs, taking the moment for longer than he should. This was supposed to be a quickie after all.

“I’m gonna hold you to that-“

The phone rings again and he could swear it sounds more insistent than it did two minutes ago. “Fuck me.”

“I’m trying.” Your giggling does him in. He sits up with a rough yank of your hips to meet his and he works himself out of his boxers. Doesn’t give you more than a second to realize before he rocks his hips forward and makes you gasp through your smile.

The shriek of the phone echos through the empty trailer and it sets his teeth on edge, anger a whisper on the back of his thoughts “I swear to god I’m gonna graduate this year.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Yup.” He grabs your leg to sloppily kiss your knee and keep your hips open for him. “I’m gonna get the fuck out there so we can get the fuck out of here.” His other hand sneaks between your legs to find your own ache, thumb rubbing circles over that bundle of nerves. The leg in his hold jumps and he laughs through his nose at the way you squirm against his onslaught. “Have our own fucking Thanksgiving.” His hips pound a rhythm against yours. “And I’m unplugging the fucking phone.”

Your laughter turns to moaning that you don’t have to keep hidden and Eddie’s eyes roll in his head. These are the daydreams he gets lost in during biology, ideas of you two living on your own anywhere but here. A place where you don’t have to keep quiet due to thin walls and family ever present. Eighty five is gonna be his fucking year if it’s the last thing he does.

When one call ends and immediately picks up into another loud ring, Eddie drops his head and focuses on you. “Come on baby, they’re gonna send out the sheriff soon.”

“I don’t-fuck I don’t care!” You give him a show with your head thrown back and your hands pawing at your own chest, one of your nipples pinched between your orange painted fingers. His hips snap in an uneven rhythm while he tries to hold off until you break, always trying to make you break first. Eyes screwed shut, back arching off the bed suddenly, he feels you clench around him and he buries himself deep to ride out the feeling with you. His movements stutter and he mumbles his love at you, babbling about next year in your own shared place. In your own shared bed.

There’s no room for basking in the afterglow and when Eddie finally lifts his head you’ve already rehooked your bra and started buttoning your shirt back up quietly. “I’m sorry this was…well, this.” You look around you sadly and spot your underwear on his crowded floor.

“Don’t be, I got to steal you away for a bit.” He’s redoing his belt but leans down to kiss your forehead. “And maybe later we can sneak out back and have some quality neckin’ time.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and the phone rings again and he turns unceremoniously out of his room without another word.

He tears the phone of the cradle and immediately hears Wayne, exasperated on the other end, asking where in the blue hell you two are. “Hello!” Eddie twirls the wire around his finger, his irritation clear through the line. “No we didn’t get lost, I was looking for something in my room.”

A moments fucking peace, he thinks to himself.

“Yeah, I see it. No I’m literally staring at it right now. Yep, she’s picking it up and we’re walking out the door.” You’re strolling into the living room and picking up your shoes and his, waving them at him. “Yes Wayne, I know. I’m sorry. Uh huh. Well…oh.” You’re watching him as his face softens and he smiles. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“What’s up?” Your hair is stuck up around your head and after he hangs up he reaches out to smooth a hand over the flyaways.

“He said he was stalling for us.” A blush creeps into the tips of his ears at the thought of that. A sweet gesture but still something he wished he could have kept to himself.

“Well that’s sweet of him. Told you he knew what was up.” You hand him his shoes that he drops and shoves his toes into while you grab the homemade pie out of the fridge. “You ready?”

“I was serious, by the way.” He doesn’t look at you while he locks the door and makes his intentions clear.

“About what?”

“The getting us out of here.”

You wait at the bottom of the steps, looking up at him warmly with the glass pie dish tucked up against your chest. “I know.”

He has a hard time meeting your eyes sometimes when he tries to talk about the future. “I mean, if that’s anything you’d want anyways.” He keeps his gaze unfocused while you both start back off to your trailer and your full family.

“Getting out of the trailer park?”

“Yeah.”

“Getting out of Hawkins?”

“That too.”

“Getting away with you?”

“That’s the part I wasn’t sure about.”

You find his hand swinging between you to grab it tight, lacing your fingers together. “Eddie, I’d love nothing more.”

[spidergutz-writes]

ANOTHER REQUEST..

Hc’s about jealous Michael? Preferably Peepaw but you can write for Og if you want. Im a whore for his jealousy.

frfr giggling and twirling my hair rn, your speaking directly to my brain bestie 😩🤌

I’m doing this one first cause it’s gonna be just a tad quicker for me to do ;w;

WARNINGS: THERE IS A BRIEF MENTION OF NSFW STUFF SO IM SORRY (I’m too much of a slut for that fictional man istg) not proofread, we die like real men here. Michael being hot asf.

HC’S of jealous peepaw Michael Myers!

Firstly, peepaw micheal doesn’t get overly jealous too quickly, but if a cashier does get a little too friendly, or some random person looks at you with anything other than casual respect? You might have to keep an eye on the news for missing people. 👀

*insert intense glaring and heavy breathing here*

definitely glares at whoever’s being too friendly with you. Depending on if y’all are in a crowded area, he might peak out to give the person a hello. With his knife. Preferably in their chest

if he can get the chance to properly go outside with you without the fear of revealing who he is, he is ALWAYS keeping a hand on you in one way or another. Like, his hand on the back of your neck, shoulder, bicep, and even your waist sometimes. He’s not the biggest fan of PDA but he won’t hesitate to let others know what’s his.

when y’all get to the safety of your home, he’s a lot more touchy than usual. Resting his forehead on the crown of your head, wrapping his arms around you and huffing.

once you get past his initial violent stage of his jealousy he really does get needy for your attention. I mean, you basically deprived him earlier, how can he possibly live if you won’t sit on his lap and let him hug you for the next hour??? How cruel 😤

HES fr such a drama queen though 🙄🤚🤚🤚

will NEVER verbally express his jealousy, for one, he just does speak that much all together, and two. He’s. He’s kinda petty ngl.

like fr. He’s just gonna be like 🧍‍♂️while your just like “Michael?? Are you mad at me???” and he’s sTILL JUST STANDING THERE. expects you to know EXACTLY why he’s jealous.

oh wow, all this nice and sfw stuff about how jealous he gets WELL LETS NOT FORGET THAT MAN WOULD POUND YOU INTO OBLIVION

you thought I wouldn’t make an excuse to talk about fucking Michael Myers? Well you’re wrong. Because we all know when that man gets jealous, he gets possessive . And what better way to show everyone your his?? none other than leaving so many marks on you someone would think you were attacked by a swarm of raccoons.

if you’d let him, he would 10000000% lightly (I cannot stress how lightly he would do this) carve his name in either your arm, or chest.

hickeys? Yes. Bite marks? You fucking bet. Bruises from his hard ass grip? Obviously!!!!!

ehem. Uhm. Now that I’m no longer feral, he would definitely need some small form of reassurance. Cuddling, hand holding, just general quality time together will work. HUFUFUUFUFUFUFU I NEED TO BE CONTAINED I WANTED TO MAKE THIS ALL SMUT BUT I MUST REFRAIN!!!! MY BRAIN IS ROTTEN! 😭😭😭 As always, please, please, PLEAAASSEE give me constructive criticism! I can’t grow as a writer to suit others (and my own) needs if I can’t write up to standards. my requests are open, as well as my asks, so feel free to drop by!!! [pls omfg send my more requests I’ll literally kiss you istg]

[pr0cyon-lotor]

I'm going to just copy and paste my notes on my headcanons for the Shen siblings here just in case I get too lazy to explain and I can just refer to this post :3

Shen Muchen = SY's da-ge

Naturally very stoic but has a bleeding heart for his family. He completely separates work and family, and he will always prioritize family over anything else.

He's not good with words and actually doesn't speak much if he can help it. He's blunt and to the point, and has the habit of back tracking if something came out too mean.

He's a creature of habit and very easy to predict if you know him.

He isn't very social and didn't make friends with many people when he was in school. Many people thought he was a sort of ice prince, nope he was just socially awkward.

He stepped up to help their parents mostly because his job doesn't require face to face interaction. He is the "heir" to the business, but he really only wants to do the administrative and logistics duties.

He had the tendency to try to bring in strays as a child. He grew out of it mostly, but he does feed strays because he feels bad. The Shen residence is constantly swarmed by cats and dogs because of this.

Shen Hongxi = SY's Er-ge

He's rather playful and cunning at times, but he is also the biggest airhead of all four siblings.

He has a tendency of forgetting about basic things sometimes. He even once asked if airplanes had to make detours when they flew towards clouds, and they had to sit him down and explain that clouds were made of water vapor/ect. (They don't let him live that one down)

He likes animals in theory but would scream if a large dog started running towards him.

He's far from gullible, but he is stupid. He's the type to let himself get kidnapped just to cross it off his bucket list and have no escape plan. Their parents assigned him a bodyguard (babysitter) because of his recklessness.

He learned a lot of instruments for the sake of their parents' approval, but now plays a few string instruments for pleasure.

He's so much more sociable than Muchen and typically takes care of the talking and networking aspect of the business for him.

Shen Yuan (these are just mostly family headcanons since my personality headcanons for SY already show in my writing)

Green eyes (not as sqq. he just has them and one can convince me otherwise.)

Has been, will be, and absolutely is a little shit because he was the baby of the family for a while.

Has the worst temper of all the siblings (which is still really mild. the siblings are just mild tempered in general)

Could probably convince his siblings to get into his hobbies if he wasn't ashamed.

The type of little sibling that would taste something gross, say it tastes good to convince someone else to taste it, and laugh once someone gags.

Shen Ling = SY's meimei

Is the baby of the family, knows it, and absolutely abuses the privileges. She probably learned how to cry on command, but barely has to use it since they just give her what she wants.

She has rather thick skin and barely twitches at insults. She does exaggerate hurt feelings to either tease people or bother those insulting her.

She is outgoing and friendly to everyone she meets but holds a grudge like a motherfucker.

She was in a lot of sports clubs, but her grades were below average. She had a tutor, but it didn't help much.

She likes reading like Shen Yuan but prefers tragic romances or mystery. She does read a lot of danmei and baihe, and has tried to recommend them to Shen Yuan in more than one occasion.

She probably tried to teach Muchen brainrot, but Shen Yuan stopped her.

General sibling knowledge:

Muchen and Hongxi only have two years setting them apart, but they have an age gap of over five years with Shen Yuan and Shen Ling, who have 2-3 years between them.

Hongxi tries to get into reading to bond with his younger siblings better, but he just can't get into it. Muchen likes reading, but he isn't a fan of the same genre and prefers poems or historical fiction.

None of them have a strained relationship with each other, but it isn't the tightest either. All of them are usually too busy (Muchen and Hongxi with the business, SY with bedrotting, and SL with sports)

They're all pretty mild tempered all things considered. But all of them are a level of protective towards each other. (Rankings: Muchen, SL, Hongxi, SY)

If they were given a chance to be closer, they would be chronic shitposters

Extra: They're all a special level of oblivious

[zahri-melitor]

Another scene from the No Man’s Land time travel fic:

Helena dropped to the ground with a swirl of cape around her. “Go home, kid.” She’d spotted the lightshow from across the district and headed over immediately. This was her territory, her people, no matter what Batman said. Crossing the border into Two-Face’s zone made sense to quickly ascertain what had happened.

The costumes looked pretty good, she had to admit. The Nightwing was off in details, suggesting it had been made by someone who had never seen the costume up close. The Robin tucked in by his side was completely wrong, of course, but the washed out grey and black palette was much better for hiding and lurking than the traditional traffic light colours. And the guy in red reminded her somewhat of Joe Public, if he’d dropped the overwhelming flag motif and instead gone for red and bats.

The Robin who’d approached her was visibly more armoured and wearing better pants, but again looked so much like the one she knew, down to carrying the same weapon. Noticeably older and taller, though. This one looked like a young adult, while as a teacher, Helena would be shocked if her Robin was 16 years old yet. She’d been there while his voice was breaking, after all.

“It’s a good costume, but you’re going to land yourself in a world of pain if you run around like that. Batman doesn’t like people barging in on his territory.”

“It’s me, Helena,” said the kid. It couldn’t be. The only one of the Bats that was in Gotham was Batman, and he’d made himself all too obvious and obnoxious. If Robin was really here, she’d have run into him sooner. Plus. The kid was too old.

“I don’t believe you.”

Robin pursed his lips and leaned onto his staff a little, the tip sinking into the snow. It was a move she’d seen the real Robin make to come across as more harmless. “I once tackled you off an exploding boat in the harbour.”

That wasn’t an incident people would have heard about. “…Robbie?” Helena asked.

Robin smiled at her, and it was the same heartbreaking one he’d given her during the Clench. “Good to see you, in a place like this.”

“How did you recognise me?” Helena had to ask. Her new costume as the Bat wasn’t anything he would have seen before.

Robin hummed. “I have an unfair advantage here.” When did he not, Helena thought. “Now, I don’t want to impose, but this is a very bad place to be out in the open.”

“You’re telling me. I came to check out the lights. I’m surprised goons aren’t swarming to see what’s going on.”

“Didn’t want to get caught in another fire or explosion?” offered Robin.

“Perhaps. Now. Who are the others?”

“You’re telling me you don’t recognise Nightwing?” Helena swatted at the side of Robin’s head, which he ducked gracefully. Hah. Still shorter than her. “The other two are Red Hood and Robin.”

“And you’re…” Helena asked leadingly.

“Also Robin.” The cheeky grin hadn’t changed either.

“Doesn’t that get confusing?”

“We make it work.”

[solarmorrigan]

Little epilogue to the “Steve crochets Eddie a scarf” story (I promise I’m done now)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Ao3

“What are you working on?” El asks, leaning slightly into Eddie’s space to watch as he works.

Eddie pulls his latest stitch tight and tilts the fabric a bit so El can see the patch he’s securing. “I’m putting my new battle vest together,” he says. “Since someone bled all over the last one.”

“You knew I was bleeding when you gave it to me!” Steve snaps from the other end of the couch. “Anyway, we salvaged most of the patches, I don’t see why you have to keep complaining about it.”

“Because you’re so pretty when you’re irritated,” Eddie says, and he can hear Will give a snort of laughter from where he’s bent over a sketchpad on the floor.

Baby Byers is the latest addition to their little group of creatives; he doesn’t do anything with yarn or thread, but he does set up with colored pencils or, sometimes, a little set of watercolors and listens while Steve and Joyce gossip.

(His presence has stumped Steve’s continued efforts at naming the group, however.

“Five people probably makes up, like, an actual circle, but he doesn’t do… fabric-related things,” Steve ponders.

“Call it a craft pentagram,” Eddie suggests.

“No,” Steve vetoes immediately. “Besides, it’s six when Murray shows up.”

Right. That guy.

Eddie isn’t quite sure what he thinks of Murray Bauman just yet; he doesn’t appreciate the relentless roasting of his and Steve’s “honeymoon phase” (Bauman’s words, not his), but it is funny watching him threaten to teach Steve how to knit. In either case, Bauman and Joyce are good friends, so he’ll have to be included in the final group count.

Eddie and Steve decide to think on the name a little longer.)

“What is a battle vest?” El asks.

“It’s a metal thing. You put stuff like patches and pins onto a vest to show off the bands you like, the stuff you support, the stuff you don’t support – shit like that.” Eddie spreads the vest out a bit more to show El what he’s gotten done so far; he’s collected a few more patches since this spring, and he’s still considering what he wants to do with the pack panel, but he thinks it’s really coming together.

El runs a finger over the Motörhead patch. “And you sew it yourself?”

“That’s the only way to do it, kid.” Eddie grins. “My uncle Wayne taught me to sew when I came to stay with him. Said it was something everyone should know how to do.” Here, El nods wisely, and Eddie can see both Steve and Joyce grinning in his periphery. “I’m pretty sure I fidgeted and fussed through every single lesson, but he was right. I was glad I at least knew the basics once I started putting my first vest together.”

El studies his work a little longer before declaring, “It’s bitchin’,” and startling a bark of laughter out of Eddie.

“Thank you very much,” he says, pulling the vest back into his lap. “At least someone appreciates it.”

“Not taking the bait,” Steve drawls.

“Did you do these, too?” El draws Eddie’s attention back; she’s brushing a thumb over the bottom hem of the vest, where Eddie has sewn in a tiny swarm of bats in purple thread.

“Oh. Yeah, those are mine,” Eddie says. “That’s a little different from what I’m doing with the patches. Just some dumb embroidery.”

“I like it,” El says, looking up at him. “Would you show me how?”

Eddie blinks, taken aback by the sincerity in the request. “Uh – well, yeah, sure. I think I’ve got some extra stuff at home I can bring next time. I’m not, like, the best at it, but–”

“Thank you.” El cuts off Eddie’s uncertainty with a smile. “And I can show you how to crochet.”

Eddie can’t say he’s ever really wanted to learn how to crochet – or that he’d even really known what it was until a few months ago; he’s mostly been content to leave that particular craft to Steve.

He glances over to where Steve is sitting now, frowning over the blanket (afghan?) he’s finally decided to try his hand at; despite what Steve says about not being sure about what he’s doing, it’s coming out beautifully. Eddie knows it’s going to end up a prized possession on Buckley’s bed when it’s done.

From the chair beside Steve’s end of the couch, Joyce catches Eddie’s eye and gives him a sly smile he finds he can’t help but return.

And as Eddie thinks about it, it’s a gift all on its own, isn’t it? Getting to teach someone something you know, getting to learn something from them, too. And hell, you can never have too many hobbies.

“Yeah,” Eddie finally says, turning back to El. “Why not?”

[chocolatte-and-despair]

Anyone saw the trend where people post about their stay in the mental hospital and get shocked when it's not people with cutesy depression but people with actually heavy problems and get scared off? It's such a weird trend for me.

I had self admitted myself to a mental hospital when I was 17 because of how bad my mental health had gotten. Mind you, I was in the children's ward, so it's probably much worse in the adult ward, but still, the experience still stands.

The types of stories I heard from the people admitted in there were heartbreaking. I roomed with a girl that had severe paranoia and learning disability. I would get woken up several times at night because she would get so scared and doctors wouldn't help her.

The nurses and personel wouldn't treat you like a person, if I'm being completely honest. I've never felt as dehumanized as when I was in the mental hospital. It's a place that really pushes you to your limits both mentally and physically.

Because I was in the children's ward, there where actual toddlers in there. If you think the old teens and the under 10 kids get separated, you're really wrong. And those kids suffer. Suffer fucking a lot. They get heavily mistreated by the older kids and the nurses do nothing.

I was one of the only ones that looked after kids (I've always wanted to work with kids and still do.). I helped them eat, put them to bed and walk them to the bathroom if they got scared. Even stood up to the older kids, which isolated me from most, so I stuck with the younger kids or the queer folk that were neutral.

I'm not even going to talk about the sexual harassment in depth I've experienced there from the other patients, from having my chest groped to having them peek at me as I showered.

What I'm trying to say is that the mental hospital isn't some cutesy place where you'll sit in circles with other depressed folk and talk about stuff. It's going to be a place you encounter people of light severity and heavy severity mental health and they are all kept in one place.

The nurses don't treat you like a person, and I'm not even going to talk about the male handlers, cus they are there specifically to manhandle you if you misbehave and even tie you to the bed if needed.

Here are some rules I gathered from my stay and I can only hope it may help you if you end up there.

Don't overshare. Especially on your first day. People will be curious and swarm you. They'll ask you what you're in for. Don't overshare, try to keep it simple, until you make connections. Most of the times they are there for gossip or will label you as an easy prey if you have heavier mental illness.

Don't cry or show too many emotions. Even being too happy will be a red flag. They will keep you locked up for longer or may even tie you to the bed if you're deemed violent.

The nurses and doctors aren't your friends. Don't overshare. They are trained to get info out of you and may keep you in for longer. talk in case you're feeling suicidal or if your meds aren't working, but otherwise, try to keep it to a minimum. they aren't a therapist, every word can prolong your stay by weeks or months.

Try to make one friend or more. If you're a loner, you will become a target for groups. Everyone in there is frustrated, scared and have no healthy way to deal with all of that shit. It's only natural they may seek to bully the weakest link.

Don't gossip about your roomies or someone you talk with. If someone overshares to you and then others ask about that person, and you say stuff, you can easily make that person's stay worse. I had made this mistake on my first day there and they bullied the poor girl relentlessly which made me feel very bad.

Try to befriend people who are being excluded or harassed. Not only will you make someone's stay easier, but there's strength in numbers. The more people you have on your side, no matter their age, the less people will target either of you.

Follow the rules. There are cameras everywhere, and people will rat you out just to be seen in a better light and get out sooner. Just follow the rules and don't get in the way of the staff.

Don't rat anyone out. It may seem like the best way to be seen in a good way to the staff, or that you're helping someone, but you really aren't. You'll become excluded from groups, and you will become a target. If you're worried for someone's health, talk to them. Ratting them out will make shit worse for them.

If someone you don't get along with invites you to meet up somewhere, especially if they are a group, don't fucking go. They won't come to you, because the doctor's will notice a huge group of kids swarming a room as a red flag, and if you go there and they do something to you, it's going to be too late by the time the doc's check the cameras. It's just safer.

These are my personal rules that helped me with my stay at the hospital. Of course, every mental facility is different, but these are the things that worked for me.

[veggiesforpresident]

What would jally do in the long-term considering it’s the 60s? (If they lived ofcofc)

jeanie you are feeding my soul with these questions <3

So! I think the answer to this changes slightly depending on how they lived. also, I had fun doing some historical research for this ask, haha, so the sources will be linked as they come up.

1. Its a "The Outsiders didn't happen and everything continued as normal" AU

- They either are already together or get together soon

- They'd take coupley photos in a photobooth since it was one of the only ways they could be coupley in public

- Since they're both poor and basically homeless, I think it would make sense for them to move into a shitty apartment together once they either finish high school or drop out. No one would really question this when they're young either.

Also, greasers, the Curtis gang especially, are generally more affectionate with each other than the stereotypical macho man of that time. especially with how queer cowboys were historically, and how much the greasers love (the idea of) cowboys, I think johnny and dally would be able to sit together or have an arm over a shoulder at the drive-in and people wouldn't really bat an eye.

- However, I think there's value to put on like... Being closeted intentionally. I know Dally hates cheating and loyalty is a big thing for him, but that also includes bending the rules for the people he's most loyal too. I think he'd still hit on girls or kiss them/have brief flings, but not commit to them because, of course, he's going home to Johnny. He would "give up on women" in his mid-20s, although like... just look at him, a guy with a criminal record as long as his arm, who has a bad misogynist streak and prison tats? Yeah, people aren't really surprised he never gets (legally) married.

Johnny though... A sensitive, thoughtful guy who's never really angry at anyone? But still rough enough to be considered a bit of a "bad boy"? Oh the girls would be swarming him in their 20s and 30s, especially if he goes to visit Ponyboy at college ever. Johnny would be a heartbreaker.

- on that note, johnny is someone who, to me, reads as Gay, unlike dally who can fly under the radar, and this makes him a bit of a target. Tim or maybe Bryon has probably heckled him over it a few times. Johnny has a mouth on him when he needs to, and he is a greaser after all so it's never too bad. but there are definitely some incidents where he gets questioned or beat up over it (though it's not really any worse than a typical Soc beating, so...). but this provides another argument for them being closeted.

- I don't think Tulsa had much of a gay community, no gay bars, just individual people more or less. But they'd still be close with the gang so it wouldn't matter as much.

- Speaking of the gang, their relationship would eventually become something of an open secret. I think Two would figure something out, probably around when Dally "gives up on women" and maybe he talk to Darry about it ('cause god knows Darry needed someone to talk to about Ponyboy and his... softness, whether Pony winds up gay or not.). I think it would be funny if Soda remained an oblivious straight guy about it until Darry has to pull him aside to say something.

- They wouldn't really be affected by AIDS in the 80s. Like, they'd hear about it and it'd be upsetting to them, but not personally affected - they're not hooking up with anyone else by that point, they don't know many other gay people... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

2. Its a "The Outsiders still happened they just didn't die at the end" AU

- a lot of similarities, but Johnny is paralyzed and a wheelchair user by the end. This would change their dynamic a bit, maybe delay them getting together for real because Johnny now has to deal with this enormous change and it's emotional repercussions first.

- that said, i actually think this would make their relationship stronger because they'd have to navigate this change together and dally would have to learn how to be patient with johnny to a degree he never was before, which would make or break any relationship. (in thsi case, makes it.)

- also, people would question their relationship less because of course poor "wheelchair bound" johnny would need a caretaker (heavy sarcasm here is intended). that said "caretaker" the toughest hood on the block is well... he's like johnny's guard dog, right?

- dally would have the same kinda job regardless of the timeline - janitor, line cook, autoshop, that sort of thing. but in the disabled!au timeline i think he'd have chronic pain from getting shot but not dying. since hes now unable to run from the cops, he'd have to find something else to do with his time, ie finishing high school and/or getting a job. they gotta make rent somehow! especially if johnny struggles to find work or go to school.

- finally, i think nondisabled!johnny would be an EMT or firefighter or something else emergency-related, but that's not an option for disabled!johnny so he'd be a teacher or guidance counselor or therapist. (he'd work a lot with war vets i think and be able to connect with them on a way other (female) therapists couldnt). in the meantime if he can get a job he'd work odd jobs as a cashier, cleaner, retail.

anyway! hahah there's your essay and history lesson for the day! thank you again for the ask!!

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

Hey Slug! Now that all snippets are out, what are your thoughts so far on the BB songs for the 3rd DRB? I'm especially excited for Ichiro's. It reminds me of Hiphoppia but with less intense dream vision feel and more funky back alley hip hop stuff. Jiro's sounds good too tho!

I love anon asks like this that remind me to go look at the new stuff that comes out... I would never think to do it otherwise. Thank you; it's very sweet of you.

Let's fire up the old YouTube and give them a listen.

Ichirou -- H歴維新 / The H Age Revolution

(Side note about the title: I'm using "revolution" here in a general sense, but this specific wording is evocative of the Meiji Restoration, the political revolution in the late 1800s that ended the regime of the Tokugawa shoguns and "restored" the old social order under the emperor while radically transforming Japanese society as a whole. Here, we should understand that Ichirou is tearing down Chuuouku's reign to usher in a new state of society.)

(Fifteen seconds in) YOOO this goes hard. I like this beat and the vaguely military-esque theme w/ the horns.

(At end of preview) DAMN okay. Give me a sec to get my thoughts in order.

Every time I see the language in these songs, I'm reminded of a video of an NHK presenter guy reading the lyrics of one song and announcing dryly, "They're all very good at kanji."

I love how this is much punchier than Break the Wall. Ichirou seems to be much more of an active agent in it, not just the figurehead leader of a revolution--and I LOVE that. It's great to see Ichirou embracing his individuality and not simply playing into the image of MC BB that others want him to be.

I also love all the callbacks to previous songs, quite literally going back to basics. ペンは剣より偽りがない ("The pen is mightier than the sword, and that's a fact!") goes all the way back to Hypmic's very first song's ペンは剣よりヒプノシスマイク ("The Hypnosis Mic is mightier than the sword")

Can't wait to get the full version and learn the lyrics. Seems like a hella fun song to rap.

Jirou -- Sunshine

(Five seconds in) Getting "This Means War" vibes.

(Fifteen seconds in) Bro what is this autotune... This sounds like the opening of Rhyme Anima season 2.

(Forty-five seconds in) "I'm ready; the wind's pushing me along; I'm flying with the wings Ikebukuro's given me" Hell YES Jirou you get that identity independent of Ichirou

(Fifty seconds in) "I can't shake the past. I take my scars with me off into a future--a future that's still unknown." Yo this is bars. (I'm butchering its lyricism but whatever) I love that Jirou is actually acknowledging his past and his struggles instead of pushing it away. You notice how his comments on the past are always either "Ichirou was so cool" or "Saburou used to be such a cute kid; what happened?" ? It's good to see him finally being honest enough to touch on his hurt feelings.

(End) Hmm... I don't know how I feel about this one at first liston. I really like Jirou's voice actor's singing voice, so I'm kinda not feeling the autotune. On the other hand, his singing voice definitely has more of a sweet/young flavor, and I can see the authors wanting to lean away from that to make him sound more adult. I think my issue is this song sounds... idk, a bit too idol pop rock to my tastes. I don't mean that idol pop rock is a bad thing; it's simply not my personal preference.

Here's a selection of people in the comments having a normal one:

"Wtf he's hot now"

"I'm picturing Jirou going to school the day after this song drops and his friends being like 'EYYY' and he's like 'Aw, you listened to it? Thanks, guys!' Then a bunch of girls swarm him and he deadass has no idea what they're on about it"

"Say it isn't so... Not my sweet baby boy dumbass Jirou... They made him hot af..."

"I feel like a mom watching my widdle Jiro-chan grow up"

Saburou -- 朱夏 / Maturity

(Side note about the title: Japanese borrows some terms for stages of life from ye olde Chinese (<- very technical term) wherein stages of life correspond to colors and seasons. You may know the word "seishun" (blue spring) or have seen blue = youth as a recurring piece of imagery in Japanese media. (BSD's Blue Period, anyone?) "Shuka" (red summer) is the stage that encompasses most of adulthood; it's the summer or prime of a person's life. The word conveys a sense of energy and a greater understanding of the world than in the youthful seishun period. Sounds like the Hypmic authors want to convey that our baby boy is growing up! *sobs into a hankie*)

(Five seconds in) Chill lofi hip-hop beats for studying

(End) Hmm... Musically, I liked the piano as a consistent piece of imagery for Saburou. It was a little too chill for me, but I always say this and always warm up to Hypmic songs over time lol.

Lyrically, I kept thinking throughout the video "This would be easy to translate" because Saburou monologues for most of it haha. Apart from the imagery related to seasons and the BB's heat/energy "firing" him up to reach the hot summer of adulthood, most of the song is surprisingly literal and straightforward. Saburou states in plain terms that he wants to go be his own person (seems to be the running theme of this album), but it's a departure from his usual style of complex imagery and vocabulary. I would guess that's on purpose, as the song opens with "All through my childhood, I could never wait to grow up. I'm a better rapper than Ichirou, but no one ever sees me as anything but an accessory to him. At least I'm better than Jirou in every way-- oh, who am I kidding? Look at me going on like an edgy middle schooler. I'm always smart, collected, calm--but on the inside, I'm NOT okay!" That is, Saburou is purposefully throwing away his attempts to look smart and mature for his age. He's allowing himself to be rough and emotional like any fourteen year old.

Really fun start to an album; can't wait to hear all the songs! Thanks again for sending this ask, anon.

[rui-drawsbox]

Okay obligatory DnD person as per the Dungon Meshi post(dnd/fantasy au + our life is amazing and I love it) but also I just wanted to say that there is a subclass of elves in dnd called aquatic elves that are kind of a happy mix between a mermaid and a, well, normal elf. I stick more towards spooky rather than nautical campaigns myself, so I’m not too familiar, but if I remember correctly they’re amphibious but with two legs rather than full mermaid.

Also obviously please ignore if you have different ideas but based off of what people have written about battle roles I could absolutely see some subclasses for the four!

Derek I could absolutely see as a Paladin(subclass possibly being oath of devotion or glory) basically the more defensive tank guys bound by an oath they make to themselves or someone important to them, which gives them a little spellcasting as well as actual auras that buff their allies later on.

Baxter I could see being a Bard (College of Swords), or what I kind of think of as a sort of battledancer. It would be a little less of a full spellcaster, but you can do special flourishes when fighting with a rapier which I always imagine as pseudo-dancing, plus he’d still get all the flashy bard spells. And to top it off, Bards actually use their charm(charisma stat) to cast spells which just screams Baxter to me.

Cove is a little harder but if you were going with him having a fish/animal companion while still being a melee fighter a Ranger(Beastmaster or Swarmkeeper) would be a good fit IMO, obviously with the Cove Creater he’s harder to pin than Baxter or Derek, but Ranger is pretty flexible. You basically get to choose a companion that’s from the land, air, or sea; and they can help you out in battle and follow you around, or as Swarmkeeper he could have his swarm be a school of fish.

Ruri is obviously a bit harder because you know your OC best, but if you really wanted to lean into more into the familiar/animal buddy route. Druid(circle of the shepherd) is always a fun choice! It’s kind of like the more spellcaster version of rangers’ Swarmkeeper where you can summon a lot of critters while still having some super strong elemental spells.

But anyway! I hope this wasn’t too long, I saw some (kinda) DnD our life content and I couldn’t resist! But thank you again for the adorable art of the main boys(and your lovely OC!) in a fantasy setting!

Second ask from dnd anon:

Oh! DnD anon part two!

But basically the theoretical party composition would look like:

Derek = Tank/Damage

Cove = Weapon Damage/Companion(s)

Baxter = Spells/Weapon Damage

and Ruri = Healing/Spells.

Also one last note about Druid is while druids have a lot of elemental spells (create water, spike growth, etc.), they also have the ability to do something called wildshape, where they can shapeshift into an animal for either out of battle(wildshape into a mouse to get under the crack in a door, then returning to normal and unlocking it) or battle (at later levels imagine fighting a spellcasting bear or even dragon) but also has more silly implications like wild shaping into a songbird to sing with Baxter, or a cat or sloth to ride on Cove’s shoulder.

got these asks a few days ago but i let them marinate in my brain hope you dont mind anon KJDSAUH

anyways AQUATIC ELF THATS PERFECT i tried to stick to what i knew about dumenshi rules in that post but for my first fantasy AU ideas i was going to do Cove a half mermaid (Cliff human x mermaid Kyra or elf Kyra [shes just so pretty its insane] x mermaid Cliff) that lived in a house right on the beach lmao, im happy that actually makes sense somewhere in dnd

i tried to look at the aquatic elves wiki from the forgotten realms fandom and omg so much text in the main page

also paladin Derek canon‼‼ imagine he does his oath to his brothers right after something dangerous happens to them when they were kids (im not saying his parents should die but im not saying they shouldnt--)

and bam!! tragic backstory 10x worse than his canon that is already bad enough :DD (try to make him feel less responsable now i wanna see that)

baxter turn rn. DO YOU THINK HE WOULD PLAY VIOLIN? I WANNA SEE THAT (<-this person didnt thought about drawing him with an instrument until it was time to write her thoughts) anyway it would def be a fancy instrument, daddy and mommy wanted to keep appearances i bet

one his spells makes his sword and moves shine and when hes under the sun his enemies become fucking blind

everything about him screams I HAVE MONEY but everytime people try to rob him he just rolls a nat20 in persuasion and they end up giving him money

and omg just imagine Cove's school of fish are all his pet fishes from the game JGASDFJK

im also. not discussing roles when the most i know about dnd is bg3 and i just finished 2 playthroughs. if you say ruri is a druid she's a druid, she makes super artsy flower fields and decorates every tree she sees with organical paint or smth jkfhds

Ruri's forest has a tree that connects with the ocean and they both just hangout sometimes (as if theyre not together 60% of the time already)

DRUID RURI THAT LIKES TO BRAID COVE'S HAIR WITH LITTLE POPPIES‼‼‼

MERMAID COVE THAT LETS RURI (otter form!!) RIDE HIS BACK WHILE HE SWIMS‼‼‼‼

mermaid cove humming a song and ruri falling to the river in trance/j

anyways anon i agree with everything tbh, there's so many ways to do a fantasy AU and i adore the dnd version (id kill for a dnd group or smth in my city)

i also have another fantasy au more vanilla but not-really. basically isekai baxter LMAO mostly an excuse to make ruri and baxter being domestic but before baxter developed any real domestic skill JHASFD

[cod-dump]

You know what I really liked the MP videogame ask so i want to try again

Multiplayer games and who's banned from them:

Cod zombies: gaz, horangi

Halo coop (campaign firefight spartan ops): roach

New Minecraft server: kronig, roach

Elden ring: ghost

Fallout 76: price, roach

Mario kart: soap

Battlefield: roach, kronig, ghost

For honor: kronig, horangi

Day z: price, gas

War thunder: nikolai, kamarov

Smash bros: laswell, mama mctavish

Horangi has abandoned Gaz and left him to fend for himself so many times while playing Zombies. But if Gaz does it to him he will physically fight him, and he doesn’t care who’s in between them. It’s only with Gaz, for some reason. He’ll help anyone else but Gaz. Gaz returns the favor. Horangi forces them to play Mob of the Dead then screams about it later. Gaz also picks the worst maps to get back at Horangi. They are no longer allowed to play together, especially after the Hell Hound Incident.

“Gaz… No-“

“It’s too late, Hong-Jin. There’s nothing I can do-“

“KYLE-“

“Goodbye, Hong-Jin. You won’t be missed.”

“DON’T LEAVE ME-“

Horangi gets obliterated by hell hounds as Gaz watched. That marked the last time they played together.

___

It’s not that Roach tries to make them fail— He just sucks at the game. He’s not big on shooters and panics when the enemy swarm him. Thankfully there isn’t friendly fire because he has wasted so much ammo on teammates. He has shot Ghost so many times and then screams when the enemy show up. He’s been banned from playing now and cries about being excluded despite knowing he sucks ass at the game.

“GHOST- HOLY SHIT— I’M OUT OF AMMO!”

Ghost ignores him.

“PLEASE THE BRUTE—“

Loud sighing.

“Thank you-“

“Shut the fuck up.”

___

Once more, they allowed Roach to play Minecraft with everyone. No one has said anything about his past crimes so König is unaware of how Roach is when he plays. That’s okay. König is worse. Everyone got together and took over a village and made it their own… and König discovered a Ancient City under it. He had made a massive mine that allowed the Warden to get to the surface relatively easy. Everyone was screaming and discovered all of their loot was misplaced (stolen) and they all had to run and abandon the village. Now both König and Roach are banned from playing. That’s fine, they went a made a server together.

___

Don’t trust Ghost when he says he knows a place while playing Elden Ring because he does know a place. A place where you’ll die without a chance to defend yourself. If he dies to a boss he’ll lure the others to that same boss and watch them die. He has days on this game, way above everyone else, so if he dies to a boss they don’t even have a chance. They don’t play with him anymore.

___

Price enjoys attacking people on Fallout 76. He constantly has a bounty on him. Roach took after him quickly in this game because they both tried to kill each other and failed. Now they team up and hunt everyone else. Since Price has reached the SPECIAL cap and is now using his power for evil, the entire game turned into a manhunt. You can’t bribe either of them to leave you be. You can’t join them either. All you can do is run. Though Ghost has gotten the jump on Roach, he didn’t escape Price. Needless to say they don’t play with them anymore.

“I see you-“

“FUCK OFF NO YOU DON’T!”

Soap gets shot in the head. Roach did in fact see him.

___

Soap is a bitch at Mario Kart. Don’t try to play as Wario. Wario is reserved for Soap and Soap alone. He has a deadly aim with shells and always picks one person to target each game. He’s not even trying to win, he’s just trying to fuck over his chosen victim. He pisses off everyone when he does this and has actually been punched over it before. Only those who don’t know him play with him. The fools.

___

They were all excited for Battlefield 5. Then Roach, König, and Ghost reminded them all why they can’t have nice things. So much screaming and cussing and literal death threats. Roach always chases the closest person. He usually goes after König because he panics and can’t aim worth shit when he panics but sometimes he goes after Ghost… and immediately regrets it. If Roach or König get the drop on Ghost— They’re dead in real life. If the three are on the same team they spend the entire time fucking each other over. Soap hates playing with them because they don’t take the game as seriously as he does.

___

When playing For Honor, König is actually scary good at this game. At first he helped out Horangi but once Horangi showed a tiny bit of skill it was over. König insists that he targets Horangi because he just wants to help him improve. Everyone knows that’s a lie. It doesn’t matter if they’re on the same team or not, König goes after Horangi. He’s nice to everyone else but Horangi gets ‘special treatment’.

“FUCK YOU!” Horangi screams after König team kills him and then refuses to revive him.

“I love you~”

Horangi doesn’t feel loved.

___

Price and Gaz started playing Day Z to have something just for them. After they got a good footing in the game they decided to be nice and invite everyone else to play with them. They helped everyone get started. Helped them get okay gear and weapons… then the betrayal. Everyone was cussing and screaming as Price and Gaz killed them and took their gear.

“Execute Order 66,” muttered Price.

That would be their only warning before all went to hell.

___

War Thunder is normally only played by Nik and Kamarov. It’s their game and they usually play when no one else around, meaning no one had any clue to what they were like. Have you ever been sniped by a tank? No? Don’t worry, Nik will make sure you have a lovely experience. You won’t even see him and you’re dead. There’s a lot of Russian screaming, you have no idea what’s going on, and Kamarov just dived bomb you for the third time in a row. Nik and Kamarov are a deadly team. Price flipped his tank and Nik and Kamarov didn’t kill him but did keep everyone else from helping Price.

___

The one time Laswell was over for game night, Soap’s mom also happened to be there. To be nice they all picked a fun game that the two would be able to enjoy. A game that, normally, none of them rage over. Soap’s mom picked Kirby, gushing over how cute he was, while Laswell picked Toon Link. Soap had forgotten that his mom plays this game with his nieces and nephews and only mentioned it after she kicked everyone’s ass. Only Laswell stood a chance against her. Soap automatically cheered for his mom but quieted down after a murderous glare from Laswell. They all discovered Laswell’s competitive nature and that Soap’s mom was a sore loser that night. They swore to never play Smash Bros again.