#lemon is bouncing around he’s vibing

[princessfayebug]

2012 Mikey Headcanons

•He'll play a song and repeat the same part over and over again bc he has ADHD

•I feel like he'd enjoy shows like He Man and She Ra

•I feel like he's tried to eat paper before

•He has so much potential to be a great chef he just needs the right ingredients

•Cat lover(obviously)

•He gives off gender non comforming vibes

•I feel like he'd be really good friends with Luz Noceda...idk I could just see them geeking out over books and shows and writing fanfiction together

•He'd show her some of his skateboard moves

•And she would teach him how to do magic w glyphs

•Draws little doodles on himself when he's bored

•Likes to make little gifts w/poorly written notes for his bros and hides them around the lair around Christmas time

•Still believes in Santa

•Put pizza in a blender mixed it with orange fanta, ice cream, and a bunch of other random stuff and nearly had a heart attack afterwards one time

•Eats cold pizza for breakfast

•Makes breakfast for his bros every morning

•I just know he wrote a crognard/ wingnut and screwloose crossover fanfiction

•Surprisingly handles sugar really well

•He can't handle caffeine though

•He took one sip of coffee and was bouncing off the walls 10 minutes later

•Secretly records Raph singing in the shower and uses it as blackmail later

•Listens to Mitski and Lemon Demon

[daysofrefuge]

Favors

Original fiction featuring my ocs, Graham and Kingfisher, and @bellygunnr's oc, Aiden.

-

Graham's not sure exactly why he agreed to let the new guy drive him.

Maybe because he almost bowled him over on the way out the door, maybe because the next bus would put him at work in over an hour, maybe because he could imagine how mad it must be making Kingfisher. Maybe it has something to do with a sketchy new neighbor with an honest-to-god eyepatch taking him across the city.

He feels awkward now, squeezing into the guy's - Aiden's - car. It's ...seen better days. That's a little too generous, but he doesn't want to think about how it might give out on them on the way. He already feels self conscious and nervous since he's packed in like a tuna in a sardine can and the suspension dipped when he got in.

He fidgets. Leg bouncing from where it almost touches the glove box, Graham decides not to comment on the box in the back or the way the whole thing looks like its history could catch up to them at any moment. It's yellow, or it used to be. Bad guys don't drive bright yellow cars, right?

They also don't play nice and field questions from nosey kids or look touched from every nice neighborly thing that happens to them.

Senora had called him vago when she had Graham bring him a casserole that could probably feed 5 guys Aiden's size. Kingfisher had assured him she didn't mean vagrant. "More of a stray. We seem to pick up a lot of those around here." It had said and Graham made a face to the screen before stomping off to hand Aiden several more pounds of food.

Now that he was in the guy's car, he felt bad for being a little wary. 

Aiden was nice, if skittish, but his stare was unnerving at first and he seemed to talk to himself. Not really anything bad, Graham had lived in enough cities and used public transportation, but the vibes were off sometimes. Something made danger ring in the back of his head. Sitting in the passenger seat let him study him discreetly, at least he thought.

"See something you like?" Aiden doesn't look up from the wheel, but works his jaw.

"Oh, sorry! I just, it's really nice of you to drive me. We barely know each other and you offered to take me to work." Graham exhales explosively. "Sorry, didn't mean to stare." He mumbles the last part.

Aiden seems to drop it, slouching a little and the tension in his jaw lessens.

"I mean it!" Graham says, because he never knows when to stop digging. "Saved me 40 minutes of waiting and then an hour on the bus."

Silence descends and both men seem to squirm in their seats. Graham fidgets and Aiden mulls over his words or scans the road for a spot to kick Graham and his big mouth out. Probably.

"I-." He starts and stops like he isn't sure of how to say what he wants to say. "If I'm not busy, and you need a ride to work sometime..." Aiden looks like he bit a lemon but is trying to make an offer despite the sourness flooding his mouth.

"I'll ask." Graham swoops in and nods. "And hey, if you need anything or ever want to grab a beer, I'm free! I mean I work days mostly, but it's nice to see another guy in the apartment, I mean not married with kids." Graham's blushing now, he's so bad at this. IT guys were not known for their social skills.

Aiden stops him from jumping out of the moving vehicle with a quiet chuckle. "Another movie maybe?"

"Hey! It was a good movie... To be fair that wasn't my idea." Graham huffs. They pull up to a stop light and he turns his head to find Aiden staring daggers at him. He probably doesn't mean it but he looks so intense sometimes. "Oh, uh. Yeah. Don't tell Kingfisher I told you, but it was worried and wanted you to socialize or get some air. It did the same to me when I first moved in. It's just like that."

"Hmm."

Graham slouches in the seat as much as he can and stays quiet for the rest of the trip. At least until Aiden breaks the quiet with a cough and asks where to go next.

It's not the worst ride to work he's had.

It is the strangest ride he’s had, by a country mile.

Graham directs Aiden to the lot closest to his building and thanks him as he gets out, only to whip his head around at the sound of the other door closing. 

Aiden is out of his car and flipping his collar up as he scopes the area with his one good eye. He looks like a guy in a spy movie swamped in that leather jacket as he is. Graham is confused, but is in a rush and can’t offer much more than another thanks.

“Alright, I’ll see you soon.” Aiden nods and looks right through him.

Graham finds himself mirroring his body language as he fidgets with his bag and tie. “Yeah, sure man. Thanks again.”

He hurries to his building only to turn and have lost track of Aiden completely on the sparsely crowded sidewalk. The beat up old yellow car sits patiently in its spot, a reminder that this was real. He doesn’t think much of it because he has meetings with supervisors and new partner associates that want him to do the impossible. After several hours of grinning and bearing it, he shuffles outside towards the bus stop and the eventual promise of a shower. He’s not quite swaying on his feet as he fumbles for his bus pass on his phone when a honk makes him jump. He looks over his shoulder only to double take at the yellow monstrosity waiting for him. When Graham takes too long to react, Aiden pops his head out the window and waves. When Graham takes another moment to comprehend that his weird neighbor hung out around his work all day to drive him home, Aiden starts waving a grease stained paper bag at him and yells, “I got burgers.” across the street.

He can’t help the laugh that startles out of him and he jogs over.

“You’re insane, you know this, right?” Graham laughs as Aiden quirks an almost-grin. He’s so intense as he looks Graham over. “You waited this long for me?”

“I was in the area. Don’t let it go to your head, Donnelly.”

“And you got me dinner, why Mr. York, how am I not supposed to let this go to my head?” He pushes off the car door and slides into the passenger seat.

“You’re paying for gas.”

“Deal, whatever, hand me that bag” Graham waves him off and reaches for the bag of fast food. “I’m starving.”

The ride back is nicer than the ride there. The ice broken once again, and this time Graham hopes Aiden’s mood won’t refreeze when they head their separate ways. He also hopes Kingfisher won’t lecture him about this later.

-

Kingfisher sounds the tone it uses to denote it wants Graham's attention over something important. Its waveform dances on the screen by the door and he stops making dinner to walk over.

"Mr. York is asking for you." Kingfisher does not sound happy. It isn't usually happy when it brings up the newest tenant in the building. This tone was new, reluctant, but there's worry in its voice.

"At 8 on a Tuesday? Did he say why?" He asks. Graham scratches at his neck and waits, eyeing the screen with confusion.

"When I pressed, he conceded that he needed another set of hands. I believe he is trying to change some bandages, though I cannot see into that apartment anymore."

Right, because one Aiden York moved in, went radio silent for three days, and tore out all of Kingfisher's eyes and ears in the room he was assigned.

"Okay."

"Okay?! That's all you have to say?"

"He gave me a ride to work. He's a weird guy, yeah, but he's nice."

"I didn't realize that's all it took to earn your trust. Maybe I should reevaluate your survival instincts." Kingfisher snaps. It was mad now, more orange than blue and the waveform spiking as the audio fuzzed.

"He's a tenant asking for help. How did he talk to you anyway?" Graham shot back, already slipping on shoes and heading to the bathroom for his own first aid kit. It came with the apartment under the orders of the motherhenning AI who was now trying to talk him out of using it.

"He opened his door, stuck his head out, and whispered at the ceiling." Kingfisher admits.

"Uh huh. How'd he look?"

Silence from K told Graham the AI was pouting, that Graham was objectively right, and it was mad about that.

"I'll bring my phone. You can call if you think he's killing me in there. Pout over here while I go help one of your tenants."

"Fine."

"There we go. Thank you, Kingfisher." Graham leaves and doesn't bother locking his door. "Need to schedule a play-date for you guys. You could give each other a chance." He mutters.

Kingfisher locks his apartment for him with a harsh click and Graham waves him off as he ascends the stairs towards Aiden's place.

[comatosebunny09]

You've been putting off that oil change for far too long, sis.

You can't ignore that angry, red oil lamp leering at you from the dash much longer. So, you call a mom-and-pop shop to schedule an appointment for an oil change. And to your surprise, they have an opening right now!

Sure, you don't want to shell out the coins to keep your car running. Rather spend your money on booze, food, and whatever other oddities get you through the weekend. But you're an adult now. You've got 'sponsibilities. You want to trade that car in for a Mercedes someday.

Right?

You whip down the sunny highway, weaving through traffic. Pull up to the quaint repair shop you'd phoned earlier, still wearing your uniform and smelling like the struggle—it's inventory week. Lots of heavy lifting, sweating, and hating your life. 

It's surprisingly clean inside despite being low-key. Freshly painted, ivory walls. Glittering tile floors. Smells like bubblegum and lemon interweaved with motor oil. Warm and homely in contrast to the biting cold outside.

A neatly-arranged lobby sits on your left, two rows of chairs flanking the wall-mounted T.V., abuzz with the weather. Ceiling high windows permit sun rays to shine through. To your right is a marbled counter with a black top, unmanned, tidy stacks of paper, and intricately arranged business cards adorning it.

The door behind the counter is cracked open, a conglomerate of drilling, whirring, and shouting over heavy machinery pouring in. You ring the bell perched on the counter's edge to get serviced. Wait a few beats. Convinced no one will hear you over all the ruckus going on outside, you turn around to lean against the counter, thoroughly engrossed by your phone.

You don't notice when he sneaks in. Situational awareness has always been shit despite your profession. Hear him before you see him, his tone like static tearing into a quiet room. You flinch, spinning around to face the room's new occupant with squinted eyes.

"Good morning, Miss!" says this blond mountain of a man, throwing you off kilter. "How may I assist you?"

He's all teeth and sunshine, this guy. Towers a good foot over you. He wears sandy skin stretched over sharp features. Wiry, dark brows. Freckles stipple his nose. Dimples crater his cheeks. Wheat-colored hair bleeds into a deep crimson on his shoulders and frames his jaws. His face is smudged with what you assume is oil. But it does nothing to detract from how incredible he looks.

You can make out the virility of his body through the confines of his royal blue jumpsuit. Arms lean and bulging with veins pouring from his rolled-up sleeves. Homie clearly works out. He drums his thick fingers on the countertop. You gnaw on your lip, unconsciously imagining them wrapped around your throat...

Despite majoring in linguistics, you've suddenly forgotten how to speak. Mouth gaping like a fish. Eyes blinking rapidly. Your heart is pounding over time in your ears. You're scorching hot.

Breathe, girl.

Breathe.

When you've found your voice again, you clear your throat. Try to act all casual, like you didn't almost wet your panties. "I-I'm here for a nine-o-clock oil change."

"Ah!" he remarks as if you've unearthed the meaning of life. You resist snorting, watching this ball of electricity bounce around and fiddle with a clipboard. He passes it to you, grin never faltering, your nerves slowly draining away. "Please fill out all of the highlighted areas with your information!"

He's intense, sure. Like an ecstatic puppy waiting for its owner to toss a tennis ball. But he gives you good vibes. Smile is infectious. You can't help the ghost of one sliding past your lips as you grab a pen. Feel heat pervading your cheeks, and you glance down to jot down your info.

You slide the beach boy your documents and keys when you're done. He dangles them between you, chuckling at your choice of keychain. A gaudy, fuzzy, pink ball that's been through some things. You're suddenly self-conscious. A little more self-aware, with your hair sticking up at odd angles, your uniform coated with a film of dust, and the laces of your boots peeking out. Though, dude doesn't seem to notice or care.

He tells you to make yourself comfortable halfway out the door again. Motions to the coffee bar nestled beneath the T.V. Flashes you another thousand-watt smile. Says, "my name is Kyojuro, by the way," before going outside to bring your ride around back.

As you plop your weary bones into a chair in the lobby, you can't help wondering how someone that hot ended up working at a place like this.

But dammit, if you don't enjoy having something nice to look at while you wait.

Masterlist

[ohnoitsjetster]

Howdy Jesse!

How’s life? Hope you’re doin well!

Ok so I’m curious- what kind of music do you listen to? Like beyond the obvious Starkid/TCB/musical songs, what kinda tunes do you vibe to? What genres? What bands/artists?

Ok that’s all, ty, have a nice day :))))

Heya Ricky!! Thank you for the ask!

I love these sm they feel like getting little letters from a pen-pal. You know I tend to ramble when I answer asks but I worry that it might be discouraging to those thinking of sending me asks, so I'll try to keep this below book-length.

I'm doing great. Working on a director's proposal for school right now which is like, one of my favorite things /gen. And though it's gotten cold again in NY we're still having very sunny weather so you've caught me in a good mood as I'm writing this.

I do listen to a lot of Musical songs. But I also love rock and alt music, or at least that's what Apple Music says I'm always listening to. I love Hozier and Queen especially but there are still plenty of stragglers on my playlists from my Imagine Dragons and Lemon Demon phases. I'm trying to get into more music by The Cramps and They Might Be Giants. Oh and Will Wood, he's had a bit of a chokehold on my brain since one of my friends recommended 2econd 2ight 2eer for my Orin Scrivello playlist, and also since I first saw a picture of him and thought he was some sort of rad, punk rock drag king. oh and that Orin Playlist has also sent me on a bit of an Elvis kick. Okay that did turn into a bit of a list but anyways yeah that's what's bouncing around in my head atm! :]

[somedaylazysomeday]

Arm Candy - Part Two

Negan x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

After many, many requests, here is the follow-up to Arm Candy. These two chapters are easily the dirtiest thing I've ever written. Please mind the warnings and curate your consumption.

Rating: Explicit, lemon, etc. Minors DNI!

Word Count: 7,000

Warnings: blunt conversations about sexual needs and interests, anal play, anal fingering, anal beads, mentioned anal plug, semi-public sexual acts, orgasm denial, slight restraint play, constant mentions of sex toys, implied sex, Dom vibes.

Previous | Next | Masterlist

---

It hadn’t been long after your session with Negan in the boardroom that you started to receive certain gifts.

First, a small bottle of lube.

Next came a strip of dots you eventually recognized as anal beads.

Finally, a modestly sized plug.

Every one of the gifts made you groan and cover your face, worried it would explode with the sudden rush of heat. Most of that heat was from embarrassment… but not all of it. You couldn’t honestly say that you hadn’t thought about taking that last step with Negan, no more than you could deny that you had thought about his fingers in your ass constantly.

If you were being really honest, you had done more than think about it. That memory had rapidly become your favorite fantasy, the thing you summoned to get yourself off when you were lying alone in your bed at night. 

But that honesty was saved for yourself. Negan had asked whether you had gotten his gifts, but he hadn’t asked anything more than that, though you were sure he was dying to ask whether you had used them. You had experimented with both and enjoyed them, but you also spent more time thinking about it than was probably healthy.

The most likely reason Negan hadn’t asked for more details was that you didn’t see him very often anymore. He was around, but he was dealing with a lot lately. There was wife drama, then a breach in one of the neighboring areas that had let in far too many zombies to ignore, then an attempted coup… One thing after another had kept him away until you started to wonder if, maybe, this was the natural end to your quasi-relationship with the head Savior and you should just let things fizzle out between you.

You did an abrupt and perfect 180° turn on the first Savior mission that Negan joined in on after everything had settled. He had stationed himself in your vehicle as you went to gather some medicine from a nearby factory. 

You were in the truck being driven by Simon, who had insisted that Negan get the passenger seat. That was difficult to argue, since Negan was the leader and should therefore get the better seat. That left you crammed in the truck’s minuscule back seat, bouncing and jolting with every bump in the rough pavement of the road. Simon and Negan were discussing the mission - the details of which you had already memorized - and you allowed your thoughts to drift to calculations and guesses about how much longer the pavement on the roads would last.

After Simon had finished explaining the plan to Negan, the cab of the truck fell utterly, awkwardly silent. It hadn’t taken much of the journey to fill Negan in; this was to be a short mission. The sun was still rising and you would be back at the Sanctuary before it started to set. The factory was nearby and was a known source of medicine and other necessary, desirable products. The Sanctuary simply didn’t have space to store everything, so the Saviors had set traps and extra protection around the place and went back occasionally to stock up. 

“I know I haven’t been around much,” Negan said, breaking the silence. “But things are finally quiet. I’m back now.”

The statement could have been directed at Simon - and the man apparently believed it was, since he nodded and said a quick, “Good to have you back, boss,” - but you couldn’t fight the idea that Negan had meant it as an assurance for you, maybe even an apology. You hummed an agreement with Simon’s answer and watched in the side view mirror as some of the lines of tension melted from Negan’s face.

The truck fell silent once more, but this time, it was far more pleasant.

When you arrived at the factory, Negan got out of the truck and opened your door for you. You murmured your thanks and he aimed a megawatt smile in your direction, calling for Simon at the same time. 

“Yeah, boss?” Simon asked, circling the truck to face you and Negan.

“I’m gonna have you run the interior section of the mission,” Negan explained. “I wanna check the traps, make sure everything is still working… and that we haven’t caught anything. I’m gonna take her with me, too.”

Simon nodded. “Sounds good to me. It’s been a while since we’ve checked everything out here. I’ve got my walkie. Channel six if you need anything.”

Negan touched his own radio to his temple. “Back at’cha.”

And then he walked away, letting you trail behind him as he navigated to the first trap. 

It was empty, but some of the spikes at the bottom of the pit had slumped to the side, probably during the most recent heavy rain. Negan hopped down into the pit to fix it while you watched the surrounding forest, standing with your gun at the ready in case you received any unwelcome visitors.

It was bad practice as a Savior, but your thoughts wandered as you kept watch. Negan had seemed apologetic in the truck, but he hadn’t spoken a word directly to you. Maybe you had misinterpreted things and he wanted to break off this almost-relationship you had going. Maybe the wife drama had convinced him to cut down on the number of romantic partners he had. Maybe he had found someone new to court. There were too many possibilities to count, but you did your best as you idly watched the treeline for any signs of movement. 

When Negan hopped back out of the pit - giving a grunt of effort that left things low in your gut tightening - you found him watching you with his intense dark eyes. “Is this okay with you? It’s been a while. Figured we could talk.”

“It’s perfect,” you told him with a smile, trying not to seem too relieved. After all, wanting to ‘talk’ was often slang for ‘break up’, but you were just grateful he was speaking to you. That went a fair distance in shutting down your doubts. “What did you want to talk about? Or just talk in general?”

“We’ll get to the big stuff later,” Negan decided. “For now, tell me how you’re doing. Feels like it’s been a year since we got to catch up.”

And so you chatted back and forth while you checked the traps around the factory. When minor repairs were necessary, you or Negan would make them and move along, but there were no signs of intruders - dead or otherwise.

The conversation between the two of you was awkward at first, but you soon warmed up to each other. By the time you were walking to the last trap, it felt as if no time had passed since you were just as close. Negan hadn’t mentioned anything about not seeing each other anymore… but he also hadn’t gotten to the ‘big stuff’ he had referenced. 

When you finished checking the last trap and found yourselves within sight of the truck once more, you took a deep breath and said, “You mentioned there were things you wanted to talk about?”

Negan nodded slowly, lifting his radio to his lips. “Negan to Simon. We’re finished and at the truck. ETA?”

“Simon speaking,” Simon’s voice reported, crackling through the radio speakers. “We should be out in fifteen.”

“Make it twenty,” Negan told him.

“Roger.”

Negan gestured to a spot ahead that seemed to have started life as some kind of picnic area. The ground was made of woodchips - though plenty of weeds and sprouts of grass were peeking through by then - and there were a few wooden table and bench combinations that still looked fairly sturdy. 

After leading you to one of those tables, Negan sat down on the attached bench and patted the wooden surface beside him in a silent invitation for you to join him. You did so, though things between you and Negan were starting to grow uncomfortable once more.

The moment you sat down, Negan had already started speaking. “Are we good, doll?”

You lifted your eyebrows automatically. “As far as I know, yeah. You’ve been busy lately… and I’ve been keeping busy, too.”

The second half of your statement came out weak and almost indignant, like you were trying to convince him you didn’t sit around and wait for him to come back when he was gone. 

“I know,” he assured you. “Simon’s told me about everything you’ve been up to.”

You nodded. It was Simon’s job to keep Negan informed about everything Savior-related. You would have assumed that included you, if you’d ever stopped to consider it before. “Good. Are- Are you still good with me?”

“Yes,” Negan told you instantly, without even a moment’s pause. “In fact, being with you is what I thought about the most while I was off taking care of things.”

“You thought about me? Or my ass?” you asked. You had meant it as a joke, a teasing reference to your shared history, but it dropped like a stone into the suddenly charged silence. For a horrifying moment, you wondered if you had overplayed your hand and accidentally revealed your own intense interest in the very thing you had accused him of.

Negan, shockingly, let his gaze travel over the treeline surrounding both of you rather than hold eye contact with you. He sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. You could hear the rasp of his stubble against his calloused fingers and it made your skin tingle with the need to feel it yourself. “I’ll be honest with ya, doll: both. But I know I was gone a while and you might not be ready to keep exploring the, uh… dark side of the moon, ya know? So if you want to take a break from all of that stuff-”

“No,” you refused, quickly and vehemently enough that Negan turned to look at you in shock. Your lips twisted into an uncomfortable smile. “No, I don’t want to take a break. Not from any of it.”

Negan’s brow steadily relaxed, and it roughly matched the rate of the smile spreading over his face. “That so, sweetheart? Does that mean you’ve gotten those presents I left ya?”

“You know I did,” you reminded him.

“That’s right, I did know that,” he admitted, his grin broad and dirty. “Been dreamin’ about you every second I had to spare… and some I didn’t. Missed ya, doll.”

Initiating intimacy of any kind - even a simple kiss - with Negan was risky. If he was in a good mood, he would respond in kind, maybe even enthusiastically. But if his temper had been piqued or he was feeling particularly dominant, he could treat that as an insult worthy of punishment. 

Perhaps he was in a good mood that day, or he really had missed you as much as he claimed to have, because Negan accepted your kiss eagerly. In moments, he had deepened it until you were fully making out, only a scant breath away from groping like teenagers. 

But before it got to that point, he pulled away from you with a reluctant smile. “Sorry, beautiful. We have a few more things to figure out before we get back to it.”

You waited for him to continue, but he only stared into the middle distance with a perturbed frown on his face. “Shit, doll, I can’t remember what any of those things are. You knocked ‘em straight outta my head. Let’s skip to my favorite one, then: When do ya wanna get started again?”

For a beat, you pretended to consider that, but you had been considering it since he had flagged Simon down and hopped into the truck with you. Your answer was ready and - while tormenting Negan was always good fun - the longer you made him wait, the longer you were making yourself wait.

And you were so tired of waiting.

You shrugged, giving him a self-deprecating smile. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Ya sure, sweetheart?” Negan asked. The solemn tone of his voice warned you that this was his consent ask. He was interested, but he was going to give you a final chance to change your mind before things got started.

“I’m sure.”

Negan’s face lit so quickly with joy that you almost flinched. “In that case… I brought some extra stuff with me today. It’s starting to get a little heavy. D’ya mind helping me carry something back to the Sanctuary?”

As he spoke, Negan was twisting the strap over his shoulder to bring something forward from its position at his back. It was a small bag, which he began rooting through. Earlier, you had noticed that he was carrying a backpack, but you hadn’t registered how strange it really was until that moment. “Yeah, why are you carrying a backpack? I’ve never seen you carry anything other than Lucille.”

“Actually, this makes a great holster for her,” Negan informed you, gesturing to the wooden handle sticking out through a partially zipped section of the pack. “But really, I needed a good way to carry this thing for you… Didn’t want anyone asking questions, ya know?”

As finished his half-explanation, Negan pulled his hand out of the pack. Dangling from his fingers was a small set of anal beads. 

There were three of them, ranging from the smallest at the tip and the biggest at the base, where there was a small gap before it flared out into a base and a wide loop for easy removal. The whole thing was made of buttery silicone in a pretty royal blue color.

Hesitantly, you plucked the toy from Negan’s fingers. He had left you something similar back at the Sanctuary, though a little smaller, and you had enjoyed exploring how you felt about them. You liked to think you had given them a fair chance, but you hadn’t gotten a lot from the experience. In the end, you had chalked it up to being a toy best enjoyed with a partner and set them aside.

Now was a chance to test that theory. 

Negan was watching you with patient curiosity and you realized with a start that he had no real idea how you were going to react to his invitation. With a faux-sympathetic nod, you agreed, “Those do look heavy. I would be happy to help you get them back to the Sanctuary.”

Whatever Negan had expected you to say, your easy acceptance hadn’t been it. His brows shot halfway up his forehead and he looked back into the bag. When he withdrew his hand once more, he was holding a small bottle of lube. He caught your grin and explained, “Just in case ya thought I wasn’t prepared.”

You murmured an agreement and glanced back at the factory behind you. “Do we have time to… Do we have time before Simon comes back out with the others?”

Instead of answering you directly, Negan keyed the radio. “Negan to Simon.”

“Simon.”

“Need another few minutes,” Negan said vaguely. “I’ll let you know when to join us.”

“Sure,” Simon agreed. After a moment, he asked, “Hat switch?”

“Hat switch,” Negan confirmed. “Negan out.”

You shook your head, fighting a wave of embarrassment. ‘Hat switch’ was a term the three of you had come up with to explain that you were switching between your duties as a  Savior and as a prospective wife. No doubt Simon assumed you were out here getting railed by Negan… though that assumption may actually be less titillating than the truth. You just hoped it wouldn’t be awkward when he did come back out. 

“We’re all good, doll,” Negan informed you, as if you hadn’t been able to hear the entire conversation. “Take off your pants and get up on the table.”

You balked, frowning at the sun-bleached and splintered wood of the picnic table. “The table? Really?”

Negan shrugged, “That or grab your ankles for me. Or we could use the bed of the truck, but there’s a better chance of being seen from the factory. I’m willing to risk it if you are-”

“The table is fine,” you interrupted hastily, face heating when Negan patted the wood and waggled his eyebrows. You followed his silent instructions and removed your pants, leaving them folded on the bench seat along with your underwear - though there was a threat of distraction when Negan saw you in the thong you were wearing and let out a low growl.

Crawling onto the worn tabletop  while fully bare from the waist down was uncomfortable. You felt exposed in the extreme, a feeling that was only heightened when you glanced at the set of beads lying on the table beside your hip. You knew you would have to move again shortly afterward, but you sat down on the table rather than sit with your ass up for the world to see. The wood was rough under your ass, warmed by the sun.

“Ya still doin’ okay, sweetheart?” Negan asked, his voice a comfort to your nerves.

After taking a deep breath in an attempt to lower your heart rate, you offered him a smile. “Yeah, doing just fine.”

“Then turn over for me,” he requested. “Remind me what we’re working with.”

You ultimately opted to be on your hands and knees on the table, deciding that it gave you enough ability for movement. You wanted to feel like you were at least partially in control of this experience. 

Negan groaned, a hand stroking over the curve of your ass. “I’ve missed you.”

“Again, you missed me or my ass?” you asked, feeling some of the tension dissipate as you chuckled at your own joke.

“Is it bad if I say both again?” Negan asked. You could hear the grin in his voice. He patted your ass again, his hand cupping one of your cheeks for a moment before it left again. “Need ya to open up for me and, uh… my hands are kinda full.”

You glanced at his hands, noting that the lube was in one and the beads were in the other. He did have a point, and you sighed. The table was just old, but it did look less than clean. To make this position work, you would need to press your torso and probably some of your face against the surface. 

“Hang on,” Negan ordered. A moment later, he had whipped off his jacket and folded it into a makeshift pillow for you. 

Gratefully, you leaned down onto it, conscious of the way the motion pushed your ass further into the air. As you pressed the side of your face into the cool leather and breathed in the familiar scent of Negan, you relaxed enough to reach back and part your cheeks for him. 

A stifled groan came from behind you and you smiled again. Coolness dripped between your cheeks, startling in both temperature and suddenness, and you jolted. Negan swore. “Shit. Sorry, doll. You’re killin’ me. So fuckin’ sexy. I’m just getting you ready.”

“It’s okay, Negan,” you assured him. “I was just surprised.”

He didn’t answer you… Not with words, anyway, but the way his fingers started smoothing the lube through the crack of your ass spoke loudly enough to make up for the lack of speech. 

Negan was stroking you slowly, traveling from the bottom of your tailbone to the spongy flesh of your perineum and back. Eventually, he began to zero in on the tight ring of muscle that was his ultimate focus. His touch made you relax even further. You knew these hands, knew that he wouldn’t use them to hurt you. With a press and a twist of his slick fingertip, Negan breached your ass. You groaned together at the feeling.

“Shit, doll,” Negan bit out. “You really have been playing around back here, haven’t you?”

You didn’t reply, too busy panting as his finger sank deeper and deeper inside of you until he was seated up to the knuckle. Fortunately, Negan didn’t seem to expect a reply, thrusting the finger in and out gently until you were clutching at the table so hard that your knuckles were pale.

“The beads aren’t that big,” he mused, “but I wanna see if you can…”

His finger pulled from your depths, the sliding sensation leaving your toes curling. He returned with two fingers pressed tightly together. After a moment with the twin tips pressed to your rear entrance - a moment that stretched infinitely long - he slowly impaled you on both of his long fingers. 

When you could feel his knuckles braced along the inner edge of your ass cheeks, you allowed yourself a single, heartfelt, lust-filled groan. 

“How are ya feelin’, sweetheart?” Negan asked. His voice was so rough that you struggled to understand him at first… or maybe you were just lost in the sensations. You must have been quiet for too long, since his voice was filled with worry instead when he repeated, “Are you doing okay?”

“Fine,” you told him, shocked at the bliss in your tone. You sounded like you were floating… felt like it, too. 

He chuckled darkly, pressing his fingers a fraction deeper inside of you. Your breathing stuttered as you felt your ass stretch slightly wider around the thickest part of his fingers. 

“Did ya miss this?” he asked. “I did. Missed you so fuckin’ bad… None of the others came even close to this. Thought about you every day. Sprang a hard-on every time I’d see you around the Sanctuary or pass you in the hallways. Did you see me? I wasn’t trying to hide it from you. Kinda wanted you to see, if I’m bein’ real honest. Did you think about me?”

You would have replied honestly, confirming that you had thought about him just as often as he did about you, but he had started a twisting, thrusting pattern that left your head reeling. As he asked the final question, he started to pull his fingers out of you, but paused to spread them slightly. 

Your fingernails bit into the scarred wood of the table as you fought to keep back an embarrassing noise. You lost that battle when Negan’s free hand cracked over the curve of your ass. A cry of his name escaped you, echoing oddly around the clearing before Negan spoke.

“I asked if ya thought about me, doll.”

You nodded, your cheek rubbing against the leather of his jacket. “Every day. Every time I saw you and every time I didn’t. And any time I used the presents you left me.”

Negan groaned. “I want to keep this going, but I think I’m gonna explode if we don’t wrap this up. I’m gonna take my fingers out now, okay?”

After you nodded again, Negan withdrew his fingers and you trembled with the feeling of it. The next thing that touched you was far less warm and far less pliant. “Ready?”

“Ready,” you confirmed, catching your lower lip between your teeth when you felt the first bead press into you. 

It had seemed so small when you were looking at it in Negan’s hand, like you would hardly be able to feel it. That wasn’t true in the slightest, and you felt your rear gape open slightly before closing around the thin silicon stalk that connected the first bead with the next. 

Negan pressed the next one a little slower, letting you feel the way your entrance opened to admit the larger bead before tightly squeezing the stalk once more. You were grateful to be so well-lubricated and warmed up when the final bead pushed slowly inside of you. No, the beads were nowhere near the size of Negan’s finger - let alone two - but something about the unyielding material and the shape of them made the beads feel more weighty.

You took a breath and let it out slowly, fighting to acclimate to the unfamiliar intrusion. Abruptly, your body rebelled, trying to push the strip free. Negan’s grip on the removal loop kept that from happening, and it ended up being a futile exercise. You relaxed, accepting the strange feeling. 

“Good girl,” Negan complimented lowly, stroking a hand over the curve of your ass and down the back of your thigh. “So fuckin’ sexy. Think I’m about ready to burst.” 

“I know what you mean,” you agreed. The whole thing had left you ready for more. Your pussy was swollen and achy, your clit pulsing with every quickened heartbeat. You jerked when one of Negan’s fingertips grazed the bundle of nerves, a sound of desperation breaking free of your throat. 

He skimmed through the furrow between your lips before pulling away with a groan of his own. With a few steps forward so you could see, he held up his glistening fingertips. “I’d say ya do know what I mean. I hate to leave you like this, but we need to start back toward the Sanctuary before the sun sets.”

You stared at him in disbelief. He had finger-fucked your ass and pushed a strip of beads inside you and now he was going to insist on leaving before getting you off? Before you could loose a truly unwise barb in his direction, your gaze traveled past him and to the sky. The sun was already at its peak and would start sinking toward the horizon soon. He was right, damn him. 

“I suppose you’re right,” you agreed reluctantly, pushing yourself onto your hands once more and getting ready to swing yourself down from the tabletop.

“Hang on a second,” Negan decided, frowning at your ass before he circled back to stand behind you. 

You let a small, satisfied smile spread over your face. Negan wouldn’t leave you like this, and you should have known he wouldn’t. He was a bit of a slave to his own pleasures, helpless against the need to make sure you and he were both satisfied. 

And so you kept your legs spread wide as he reached between your cheeks once more. You didn’t know exactly what he had planned, but you wouldn’t say no to a quick fuck with the beads still inside of you. After all, you were certainly wet enough. 

Your entire body tensed, jolting like you had been shocked when Negan grabbed the loop at the end of the beads and twisted even as he kept them fully pushed inside of you. Then he patted your ass. “Okay, you’re good.”

You were so stunned and dismayed that you turned and plopped your ass down on the table, scarcely biting back a yelp at the unfamiliar sensation of the beads pushing up inside of you. “What was that?”

“I was fixing the loop,” Negan explained. “I didn’t want it to be uncomfortable. Now it’s lined up with your asscrack. Why?”

“I thought you were going to fuck me!”

Negan blinked at you, heat slowly growing in his eyes. “Oh, doll. You know I’d love to, but I meant it: we’re short on time.”

“But I’m so close,” you reminded him, well aware that you were whining but unable to stop yourself. 

“If I’m not getting off, you’re not getting off,” Negan told you with a smirk. “Better get dressed. I’m calling Simon now.”

True to his word, Negan radioed for Simon to bring everyone out as you scrambled to get your thong, pants, and boots back on before they reached you. It was a challenge, especially since you could feel the odd shifting of the beads inside of you with every move you made. It was distracting, and you found yourself pausing more than once in an attempt to chase a spontaneous orgasm. 

In the end, it didn’t happen, and you stood glaring at the ground. You were achy and wet, your underwear soaked even as your ass throbbed with all of the recent activity. It grew worse when Negan clapped a hand over your ass, managing to aim it so that his palm landed directly over where the beads sat. You squeaked and turned your glare toward him instead. 

Negan only laughed. “Go sit in the truck. I’ll set things up with Simon.”

If you had thought getting dressed was difficult, walking to the truck was an exercise in unexpected nerve endings. You made a variety of unfamiliar sounds as you clambered up into the backseat of the truck. By the time Negan joined you a few minutes later, you were fighting not to rock in your seat. 

He swung himself into the driver’s seat, twisted the key in the ignition, and began to drive. You frowned at him and he seemed to feel it, meeting your gaze in the rearview mirror. “I told Simon to find another vehicle to get back in. Why don’t you come up here instead?”

You eyed the back of the front seat. There was no gap between the cushions, and that would leave you clambering up and over the backs of the seats. There was no use asking Negan to pull over so you could get out and use the door, either. You knew that well enough, even if just from a logical standpoint. The sun would start setting soon and you needed to get back to the Sanctuary. 

“No,” you decided eventually. The backseat was cramped and uncomfortable, but the gymnastics involved in getting to the front seat simply weren’t worth it for you. “I’ll just stay back here.”

“Let me rephrase that,” Negan suggested, eyes bouncing between your face in the mirror and the road stretching out in front of the truck. “Get up here.”

“Why?” you asked, feeling petulant. 

His mouth twisted into a grin. “I’m lonely.”

“Not a good enough reason.”

From your perspective in the backseat, you watched the muscles of Negan’s jaw crank tighter. You were already braced for the firm command in his voice even before you heard it. “Get your ass up here, now. I’m feeling generous, so I’ll even give you a reason besides ‘because I said so’: I need to make sure you aren’t gettin’ yourself off back there.”

You gaped at him. “I’m not going to rub one out in the back of the truck!”

“You say that now,” Negan told you, clearly fighting a grin at your crass language. “But we haven’t even hit the bad section of road yet.”

That prompted a vile curse from you. You had noted on the way to the factory that the road was rapidly falling into disrepair. It had jolted and jostled the truck for what had felt like an eternity then. It would be even less comfortable now. 

With a series of inelegant movements and hissed sounds, you clambered up into the front seat and buckled yourself in. The truck was the first Savior vehicle headed back and you had been driving at a reasonably fast clip so far. Something told you Negan wouldn’t take the challenging sections slowly for you.

You were right about that. When you approached the sections of road that were in the worst shape, Negan tossed a wicked grin at you. “Hope you’re ready, doll.”

And then you hit the section. Negan had not, in fact, slowed down. If anything, he had sped up slightly and you would have been worried for the tires if you weren’t so focused on keeping yourself together. Negan hadn’t said anything about you not being allowed to come, just that you hadn’t had time for him to get you there and that he didn’t want you going for it in the truck. But if you came just from the sensation of the beads being jostled around inside of you, surely he couldn’t be upset about it?

But you fought it anyway, if for no other reason than it would be undignified.

Every bump had profoundly interesting effects on you: forcing the beads slightly deeper or leaving your muscles room to try pushing them out again in turns. The worst were when you had started to instinctively push them out but they were forced back in by the sharp collision between your ass and the seat. 

By the time the road finally smoothed once more, you were a sweating, panting mess and your trembling fingers were creeping toward your core without full permission from you. One good push against anything would be enough to send you over the edge…

Negan caught your hand before you could so much as brush against the space between your legs, pinning it to your thigh as you squirmed. “Negan…”

“Other hand,” he ordered, wiggling his fingers around your wrist. 

You made a noise that could have been anything from his name to a recitation of your multiplication tables, but he just kept wiggling his fingers. You watched the motion for a moment, wondering if you could come just from watching him and thinking hard about how that would feel between your legs, then realized that probably meant he had a point.

With reluctance, you moved your right hand closer, allowing him to shackle it along with your left and keep both away from anything incendiary. When you were fully locked down and the desperate need had receded to a throbbing ache in your core, you slumped back against the seat and stared blankly through the windshield.

“Are you good?” Negan asked, tossing an inscrutable look your way.

“I just got fucked by some beads,” you retorted, frustration making your voice sharp. “And now you won’t let me have even the slightest relief. I wouldn’t say I’m ‘good’.”

Negan’s eyebrows flew up and you had a split second to regret your response before they crashed down once more. He gave your wrists a warning squeeze. “There something else you wanna say to me, little girl? Or are you gonna keep being a brat? If that’s what you want, I’ll tell Simon we forgot something and go right back. So, what’s it gonna be?”

“Sorry, sir,” you apologized, your face now at least as hot as certain other parts of your body. “I won’t do it again.”

“Good,” he said firmly. “I don’t like this attitude. If it sticks around any longer, we’re gonna have a conversation about what it means to live in the Sanctuary and enjoy the privileges of being a Savior.”

You knew better than to fight him on this. When Negan’s voice took on that steely undertone, he meant business. He wasn’t dominant in any BDSM-type way, not more than it took to have a little fun, but he was the leader of the Sanctuary. As the head Savior, he expected - no, demanded - obedience. 

Instead of replying, you just bowed your head and studied the way his fingers looked wrapped around your wrists. When you were only a few minutes away from the Sanctuary, Negan released you, patting the back of a hand gently. 

“Ya did good, doll,” he said, voice warm and contrasting with the way he had sounded earlier. “I’m proud of you. I have a few things I need to do around the Sanctuary, but I know you’re probably ready to get rid of those beads. Give me half an hour, and I should be able to meet you in your room. If I’m not there by then, you can take ‘em out yourself. Just grab the loop and pull. Try to get them all in one motion.”

You nodded and moved to get out of the truck. Before you could, Negan stroked his fingers down the inside of your forearm. “Missed ya, sweetheart.”

Despite the emotional toll of the day, you softened for him, turning back and pressing a kiss to his lips. When he responded, you deepened the kiss, eagerly searching for an outlet for the energy that still filled you. Negan pulled away with a regretful, almost pained laugh, palming himself through his dark jeans. “Get outta here before I skip out on the stuff I have to do and get to the stuff I want to do. I’ll see you soon. Half hour starts now.”

Surely no one could blame you for the small smile playing around your lips as you slid down from the truck and started for your room. 

Now that you had gotten used to the feeling of the beads shifting inside of you, the strangeness of it had disappeared. Instead, it only stoked the fire inside of you, turning every step into sweet torture. When you finally closed the door of your room behind you, you were at a loss for what to do next. 

Normally, you would help with the unloading and storage process, then take a quick shower in the attached bathroom before relaxing from the day. But you had been dismissed from unloading, showering seemed wasteful given that you hadn’t worked up a sweat at all, and there was no chance of relaxing. Instead, you found yourself watching the time with a fervor that verged on fixation. 

At first, you had told yourself that you would wait for Negan. 

Then it got closer to thirty minutes and you decided to undress before he got there. You know, to save time. Efficiency and all of that. Besides, you needed a chance to figure out the best position. Face down, ass up seemed horribly exposed, despite the fact that your door was locked. If you were spread-eagled on your back, the reach was a little tricky. 

By the time the full half-hour had passed, you were lying on your back without a stitch of clothing on. Your knees were pressed to your chest and your hand was between your legs, one finger already thrust through the silicon loop protruding from your ass. 

You should wait… you wanted to wait, but the way every muscle was trembling warned that it would be impossible. You tugged experimentally at the loop, toes twitching at the feeling. Earlier, you had wanted nothing more than to be rid of the intrusion, but now it felt almost like it was part of you. Negan’s warning to pull all the beads out at once rang through your mind and you wondered vaguely if it was going to hurt. Maybe it would help that you were so incredibly wet; the wetness was literally seeping from your pussy down to your ass.

Thirty-two minutes and your inner muscles gave a half-aborted push. It felt like a warning and you said a silent apology to Negan as you pulled the loop as hard as you could.

The resistance wasn’t nearly as strong as you had built it up to be in your head and the beads slid free with little issue. The bigger impact was the one they made on your sensitive nerve endings. Your mouth fell open around a shocked gasp as the feeling of the beads leaving your body sent you over the edge of your long-teased orgasm. 

It was blissful, though you suspected it would have been stronger if Negan had been there to help out. In any case, you were left sprawled inelegantly across the bed when it ended, one finger still curled through the loop at the top of the beads. 

“Fuck,” you muttered, aftershocks still rocking your body. 

“Fuck is right, doll,” Negan agreed. 

You glanced up so quickly that your neck gave an unhappy twinge. Negan was standing just inside your door, his key to your room still in his hand. He was breathing hard and his eyes were gleaming. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, locking the door again. “I rushed, but I figured I wouldn’t make it. Can’t say I’m sorry to come in on that view, though. Got any left for-”

When Negan finally stepped close enough to the bed for you, you tossed the beads to the floor of your room and dragged him to the mattress. He flopped agreeably onto the soft surface and you straddled him, groaning when his hands moved automatically to cup and part the cheeks of your ass. 

“I need you,” you informed him. “Fuck me.”

“Oh, I intend to,” Negan vowed with a wink. “Your pussy, though. You aren’t ready for anything else.”

“I think I am,” you disagreed. “I’m not on shift tomorrow. I think now’s the perfect time.”

“You aren’t ready,” Negan repeated. “Though maybe you aren’t as far off as I thought. If you’re off tomorrow and it’s not a busy day for me… how about tomorrow night?”

You considered that, excitement budding in your chest. You hadn’t actually expected him to agree, but you wouldn’t pretend that you weren’t filled with eagerness at the thought of finally doing this for real. 

“Tomorrow night is perfect,” you agreed quickly. 

“I’ll be here first thing tomorrow morning,” Negan warned. “We’ll do some prep work before I take care of the business I have, then I’ll come back.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you told him, letting the sincerity ring in your voice before you turned your expression into a pout. “But does that mean you’re going to make me wait until tomorrow to have you?”

Negan scoffed. “Not a chance. Not only am I gonna fuck you, I’m gonna have at least two fingers in that tight little ass for the next few hours. We’ve got to make sure you’re opened up for me, doll. Still sound good?”

You pressed another kiss to his lips, letting your actions answer for you.

---

Author's Note - Thanks for reading! I'll be back with another installment tomorrow.

I don't offer a taglist for explicit fics, but you can find other works on my masterlist!

[croissantbae]

January 8, 2023

So much has happened. Yesterday we went to The Row to support Hatty at Maum.  We got in line for pizza at Bianco b/c a line was already forming before the restaurant opened.  After taking turns entertaining the girls we got in.  We were like, there’s no way it lives up to the hype.  I mean come on, its pizza. But wow it really lived up to the hype.  I didn’t watch the Netflix documentary but Jason described the legend and I knew enough to assume that this was like God’s gift to man in pizza form or something crazy like that.  So I had high expectations too.  But seirously I was blown away by how delicious it was.  We liked the New York style thin pizzas the best.  And I was shocked but I may have liked the Salami the best (which is usually not my thing).  But upon further consideration I think I would love to just eat the regular old Margherita.  Everything else was good (the lemon, the sicilian, the green one, etc.) but the tomato sauce was so good. and the crunch was so satisfying on the thin pizza that’s what I’d want to eat over and over again.  

We couldn’t get into Maum b/c the line was too long so we dropped off a box of pizza for Hatty and bounced.  Jason mentioned that his friends were playing pickelball and asked if we wanted to stop by.  I said yeah let’s do it.  We kind of waffled on whether to go or not because we weren’t sure if the timing would even work out but we did.  We go and its actually a ton of fun.  Jen was there so she and I played, while trying to avoid hitting the kids lol.  But Dani wanted water so I took her to the car to get her water but when I get back Jen runs up and she’s like Jason got hurt.  I was like .. no.  because Pete had just gotten injured a few weeks prior.  I walk over and Jason is like I think I tore my achilees.  I feel the back of his heel on his normal leg, and it feels normal but I feel the heel on his other leg and its just mushy.  No bone/tendon.  We immediately go to my mom’s (after a miscommunication w/ my mom) and then realize she’s at our house so we go home and my mom watches the girls while we go to the ER.  Man I felt pretty dirty after being at the hospital b/c there was a homeless guy there that smelled so bad.  and there were people who were yelling out in pain. it was just a weird vibe. they warned us it could take a long time so I went to get everyone homestate, dropped it off for jason and then went home to relieve my mom.  also jason’s phone died so he wanted to keep my phone to stave off his boredom but also so I could contact him.  I felt so naked driving around w/o my phone in the minivan b/c I couldn’t look directions up. I just had to trust my memory (which it was easy to do given we know the Kaiser Sunset so well but still). 

I get home, relieve my mom, put the girls to sleep, and then wait.  Eventually I go back to get Jason and he’s waiting with crutches. He has to basically jump on one leg up all of our stairs (our house is so not ADA compliant) and he’s sleeping on the couch right now because it would be too hard for him to sleep in either of the girls’ rooms without waking them up with his crutches.  At first I thought I should sleep on the couch b/c I didn’t see how he could go get dani but he said he could just use the crutches to go into her room and then throw her on the bed lol.  But we realized he can just take her out of the crib and then she can walk on her own.  

Today I took the girls to church and jason stayed home and oh my god it was not fun.  I couldn’t focus on any convo because dani was just a menace at the table.  I was terrified whenever she grabbed one of the ceramic plates, sure she was going to throw it down on the ground and send shards flying.  But lunch was actually super delicious.  I’m already craving the tomato and egg with hand cut noodles.  I might try to make tomato and egg this week. 

After we went to get boba and then ofc dani poops. so we walk over to a courtyard area with a bathroom but I have to carry dani the whole time.  In total after we got there, I changed dani’s diaper 2x (thank god for trudy providing us with wipes and diapers) and I took naya (and wes haha) to the bathroom 3x. The whole time was just a brief intermission between going to the bathroom.  

I felt spent by the time we got home but had to do some work.  I’m scared that there’s going to be a lot of work this week since people are really going to be back from vacation now.  But just got to face it head on. 

Also I really hope the ortho calls soon so Jason can go in and ask for the surgery.  We both want him to get it because it seems like the recovery time is shorter and recovery is more assured.  Johnny or Paul was saying today that they know someone who tore their ACL like 3x.  Tore it once and then every time they tried to take their boot off it would just re-tear again.  I don’t want that for Jason. It seems like if you just do natural healing, you just have to hope your tendon re-attaches together and it eventually heals, which could take like a full year.  What a weird thing to happen.  Stiill doesn’t feel fully real.

[minamotosousuke]

scientifically Mitsuba and Kou are the life of the party… it’s fact!!

[kenzumekodma]

18+, minors & ageless blogs dni

apothecary witch reader au; chapter one

summary: “The price this time, stranger, is your name,” you grin, a playful glint crossing your eyes. The poor man looks like a deer caught in front of a lantern and you can’t help but laugh. “It’s not to worry, I’m no fae. I’m just interested when someone’s new around these parts.”

pairing: izuku midoriya x fem!reader, katsuki bakugou x fem!reader, tomura shigaraki x fem!reader

wc: 2272

warnings: quirkless fantasy au, lots of plot eventual smut, nothing really other than setting the scene here. other warnings will be added to future chapters a/n: kicking off kinktober with what i like to think of as a dark cottagecore au,. it’s not necessarily kinky but it gives me halloween vibes so it is what it is. this babie’s been bouncing around in my google docs since july and i’m both excited and scared to let it out. hopefully y’all will enjoy reading it as much as i’ve enjoyed writing it! while this is mostly sfw for the first few chapters, the same rules of minors and ageless blogs being blocked for interacting will still apply for my own comfort.

find the rest of my kinktober masterlist here!

Rosemary… lavender… honey… that’s it… 

You pluck a few small wedges of sun-dried lemon, rind and all, into the little jar, and slip the cork tightly into place. The way the sun is beaming through the window onto your workbench casts lace-like shadows onto the plank floor from the various herbs you have hanging up to dry. If there was any word to describe how you were feeling, it’s content. You do what you love. Day in and day out, you get to spend your evenings filling your journals with nuggets of information you’ve gathered over years of lovingly studying the plants around your little village and new flora arriving every few months with travelers and merchants.

Rain patters at the wooden roof of your cottage. A sun shower, you think to yourself. Good luck’s coming my way. You gather up the jars from your workspace into a basket, carefully grouping them together, and bring them to the front room. Bottles need to be shuffled around. You hum a little tune as you make space on the shelf over the lovingly scrawled labels. Something about this moment, this moment right here, makes you feel deep in your bones that you’re exactly where you need to be, exactly where you’re meant to be.

A polite cough pulls you from your own little world. Peeking through the half open door is a young man with curly jade hair and bright eyes to match. About your age, maybe a year younger, you’d guess. Raindrops bead on his hair, mirroring the freckles that are scattered across his face. You’re the one to break the silence. “Oh! Uhm, welcome! Sorry, I didn’t hear the bell. What can I do for you?” You set your basket on a stool and brush your hands off on your apron.

“You’re the… the, uh…” he starts, trailing off with a sheepish look. “The witch, yes,” you smile at him. “It’s alright, it’s not a dirty word, it’s just what I am.” “Right,” says the green-haired man, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “A friend of mine, well, she said you sell, uh, potions…” “The precursor to potions, really,” you correct. “I supply the jar and ingredients, you have to fill it up with hot water yourself. Take this one, for example.” You pick up the jar you’d filled just moments before he came in. “There’s lavender for healing, rosemary for memory so your body remembers how to stay whole, and honey is an antiseptic and a sweetener. A spoonful of honey makes the medicine go down.” The young man nods, seemingly taking it all in. “But you can’t just eat it as it is. It’ll be a little too potent and taste too strong. Add hot water to the jar, though, and you get yourself a nice infusion that’s good to drink and helps you feel better.” You cross the room and press the jar into his hand. “Here, this is what you’re after, yeah?” He nods, a light pink dusting his cheeks. “How’d you know?” “With hands like yours, I’d wager you’ve been in your fair share of fights. Scars like that don’t come from sitting around a fire and chatting with friends,” you say, running your thumb across the rough scars on his hand, both of you still holding the jar with your other hand. “Right. How much do I, uh, owe you?” he says, equal measures of curiosity and nerves in his voice. “The price this time, stranger, is your name,” you grin, a playful glint crossing your eyes. The poor man looks like a deer caught in front of a lantern and you can’t help but laugh. “It’s not to worry, I’m no fae. I’m just interested when someone’s new around these parts.”

“I’m M-Midoriya, Izuku Midoriya,” he stutters out, a nervous chuckle hot on his tail. “Nice to meet you, M-Midoriya,” you tease. “I’m y/n l/n, and I look forward to meeting you again. Gods know you’ll probably need it.” He visibly calms at your joking, and for the first time since he walked into your shop, he genuinely smiles. A handsome smile, you think. The western sun pours golden light on his features, highlighting his strong jaw and fine cheekbones. If you hadn’t seen his hands, you’d have had a hard time thinking he’d ever even seen a fight in his life. He takes a few steps back towards the door, then turns back to you. “l/n… Thank you. I’ll, I’ll see you around?” Izuku says. “I’m sure you will,” you reply. He smiles at you, and you at him, and he closes the door behind him.

The next time you see Izuku Midoriya is much sooner than you expected. But not as soon as I’d have liked, you find yourself thinking. You’re settled into a large leather chair next to the fire at the tavern at the heart of your little town, politely half listening to Hanta Sero and Denki Kaminari go on about what they found in the woods. Something about heather for some mead, something about… toads? “y/n! Are you still all there?” Sero nudges you. “Huh? Oh! I’m sorry, I was just thinking,” you apologize. “Well how about you think on these mushrooms. Are they safe to eat?” Kaminari asks.

Not toads, toadstools. You groan to yourself. That’s what you get for thinking about the not so stranger who’d walked in just moments before. Kaminari shoves a handful of mushrooms in front of your face. “Well?” he says impatiently. You take the fungi from him and study it for a moment. A long, thin, bronze stem ending in a slim, cone-shaped cap. An exploratory sniff for good measure. “Liberty caps,” you state matter of factly. “Not something you’d necessarily want in your mushroom stew, but not toxic, no. You’ll end up seeing some things you may wish you hadn’t if you eat it, though.” You shudder, remembering your own brush with those same mushrooms in the name of building your compendium. Sero and Kaminari grin at each other. “Mushroom stew?” Sero asks. “Mushroom stew,” Kaminari confirms. He hastily pulls the mushrooms back from you and stuffs them into a medium sized leather pouch hanging from his belt. “Didn’t think I’d see you again so quickly,” says a voice from behind you, and you realize you’d lost sight of Izuku while indulging your friends. You turn your head, and you’re face to face with him. He’s bent down to your level, using the back of the chair as an armrest. He smiles at you, and you send him a delayed smile back. “Neither did I. Not to say I’m disappointed,” you say. He pulls up a stool next to your chair. “I tried your… concoction earlier. It tasted better than I expected,” he says. You hum in acknowledgement. “And? How are you feeling?” “My hand’s seen better days, but it’s improved by leagues since this afternoon,” he rubs his thumb over his hand, the cloth bandage no doubt hiding his injuries more visible now without his long-sleeved jacket on. “Thanks,” he adds. “My pleasure. It’s what I’m meant to do,” you say. He studies your face for a moment. “It suits you,” he states quietly. “Hm?” “N-nothing, sorry.” Izuku fiddles with the edge of his bandage. He opens his mouth to speak, and is promptly interrupted by the arrival of a set of mugs being placed on the table with about as much grace and care as a baby giraffe. “Is that really necessary, Katsuki?” you sigh at the blond man towering over you and your small group. He ignores your question, instead flicking his head to Izuku’s direction. “What’s shitty Deku doing here?” Bakugou asks. “Izuku,” you retort, “is endearing. And he’s here because…” you turn to him, face falling from confidence to curiosity. “Actually, I don’t know why he’s here. I didn’t think to ask you before.” “I’m just, ah, passing through,” Izuku offers. “Might stay a while, Uraraka said she has a spare room I could stay in for a bit.” He faces you a little more directly. “She’s the one who, uhm, sent me to you,” he explains. “Midoriya!” booms a tall redhead. Kirishima takes the last seat around your small table next to the fire, bringing three bowls of food with him. You pull a mug of the ale towards you and take a sip. “It’s been too long, where’ve you been?” Kirishima grips Izuku’s arm from across the table, a friendly, manly greeting you’d grown accustomed to in the few years since you had moved to the little town and expanded your social circle. “Ah, you know… Here and there…” Izuku replies. “What about you, how’ve you been, Kirishima? And Kacchan?” “Been fine,” Bakugou mumbles into a forkful of beef. “Never fuckin’ better.” You purse your lips for a moment, take a swig of ale, and stand. “You boys catch up. I want to make sure Thing One and Thing Two don’t do anything stupid with those mushrooms,” you say, and you take your leave. “One afternoon in town and you’re already holing up with the witch, hah?” Bakugou says sharply. Izuku shakes his head. “It’s not like that, Kacchan, I swear. Ochako said y/n could help me, that’s all.” “And who do you think gave Round Face that information?” Katsuki grumbles. “Just don’t go getting her pulled into a mess you can’t clean up.” “He does care, you know,” Kirishima says, a friendly smile crossing his face. “Just has a shit way of expressing it.” The redhead pushes his untouched mug of ale towards Izuku. “Here,” he offers. “You sure?” “Yeah, I’ll have y/n’s, she doesn’t drink more than a few sips of this stuff anyways.” Kiri nods. “Better than letting it go to waste.” Izuku takes the mug from Kirishima, thanking him. He takes a mouthful of the ale and lets an awkward silence slowly envelop the small group as Bakugou and Kirishima eat. “Oh, for fuck’s sake…” the three men hear your exhasperated voice ring out from across the room. “I’m taking you out of here before they kick us out for good,” you say, dragging Kaminari by the arm towards the door. Izuku squints and is just able to make out a small mushroom in Kaminari’s hand with a distinct bite mark taken out of it. “Sorry to cut it short, I’ll see you later?” you call to the three men at your table. Bakugou grunts, and Kirishima nods and waves. Izuku just smiles at your retreating form.

By the time night falls in earnest, you’ve sent Denki on his way with a bottle filled with ginger, cloves, and cinnamon already infusing into water -- it’ll need the extra time, you think -- and have settled into your chair at home with your crochet work. A knock on the door interrupts your stitch count.

“It’s not locked,” you call. “And I doubt it’d stop you if it was.” A tall blonde man opens your side door, careful to not let it creak too loudly. He crouches to sit on the footstool beside your fireplace. “You could try coming in the day sometime, Katsuki. What happened this time?” You set your work down to rummage through a cabinet of medical supplies. Katsuki stands and catches your wrist before you get too far. “Nothin’ happened,” he says. “Just wanted to see you,” he adds, quieter. The corners of your lips turn upward in a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Well, here I am,” you say. “Here you are,” he repeats, pulling you closer to him. Your eyes flicker to the hand around your wrist and he releases it. His chest stills, breath held till he sees your next move. You gently grasp the lapel of his leather coat and his chest falls. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” you ask him. “I’m tryin’ not to think,” he confesses. The fire casts a golden light over his eyes, causing them to glow crimson in the relative darkness of the room. You take his cheek in your hand and brush your thumb across his blond stubble. “Not thinking isn’t really your strong suit, Kats,” you murmur. He clears his throat. “Kaminari still actin’ like a dunce face?” Katsuki asks. You take your seat again, letting the last few moments roll off you like rain. “He’ll be fine. It only lasts six or eight hours. No doubt he’ll have some stories to tell tomorrow, though,” you say. The blond man nods, used to his friend’s dumbassery. “Why’d you really come?” you ask. Katsuki shifts. “Be careful with that damn nerd,” he says. “Who, Izuku?” your brow quirks. He lifts his chin in acknowledgement, then casts his eyes downward. “He’s not how he seems, is all. Just be careful.” “Kats, I can handle it. He needs healing, I provide. Same as I do for you and Kirishima. You’ve got nothing to be worried about,” you reassure him. “Nothin’ fucks with you, hah?” he says. His lips curl into a little smirk, and you chuckle. “Not yet, but compiling my book on wild berries did give me a run for my money,” you smile. Katsuki lets out a little laugh. His eyes meet yours. “Keep it that way, will ya?” With that, he stands, everything he wants to say bubbling under the surface of his lips, and makes for the door. “Katsuki?” you call after him. He turns to you. “Thank you. For looking out for me.” He nods once, and then he’s gone.

[showf4lls]

Hi, I’m Azure/ Az and I use all pronouns :). I’m here for a platonic matchup please. I would prefer it with a cc! And I’m pansexual but also aro/ace :] (that’s why I would prefer platonic a matchup)

I’m very introverted but I can be pretty outgoing at times. I enjoy stepping out of my comfort zone every once in a while but I tend to usually stay where I’m comfortable. I’m also a really touchy person, and enjoy all forms of touch and am very open to cuddling and hugging etc. When I get comfortable around someone. I also don’t talk very much, im semi-verbal and so I tend to be pretty quiet but the closer I am to someone, the more of my chaotic loud side they will see. My hobbies are drawing, and colorguard (if you don’t know what it is it’s that we throw flags and weapons in the marching band.) Three of my favorite songs are broken by Anson seabra, nothing worth loving isn’t askew by lemon demon, and Lovejoy in general. I don’t really have an aesthetic, I tend to just be a mess and a mix of a bunch of conflicting things that change a lot, kinda with my gender (im genderfluid.) my fashion sense is usually mcyt merch and sweatpants, but recently it’s started to get more of jeans and sweaters with button up shirts beneath it (think a mix of Karl and Wilbur’s style.) could you do this matchup with someone form the dsmp please?

I hope you’re having a good day :D <3

― vibe check! i match you with... ranboo !

cw + info! fluff, headcanons, platonic / no CWs

includes! cc!ranboo

note! tbf i was debating on whether or not to match you with karl, but i felt like you fit better with ranboo. hope you enjoy! also, for anyone interested, feel free to check out the event here!

– you and ranboo are pretty much on the same page in terms of how you interact with your friends and the world around you, so it would be really easy to be friends with one another. y'all pace each other really well and understand when the other is struggling

– at first, you start talking by making fun of all your outgoing friends and how stressful social situations can be when you have so much anxiety in talking to new people. the two of you just kind of sit in the corner together and crack jokes about "stupid extroverts"; it's a good time

– you'll push each other to step outside of your comfort zones when it's warranted; both of you get anxious about trying new things or about the uncertainty of the outcome of a new situation, so you'll push each other to try new things if it feels necessary

– affection!! so much subtle, platonic affection. regardless of you guys just generally being pretty soft with one another, he treats you pretty similarly to how he treats aimsey. you guys are constantly touching - more of a reassurance than anything - whether it be your shoulders touching while you stand next to one another, your pinkies being linked as you stroll past the shops, cuddling while you watch a comfort film together, or waddling around while one of you is hanging off the other in a lazy sort of hug

– ranboo wouldn't mind that you're semi-verbal at all (not that anyone should)! he's always wanted to learn sign language anyways. and if sign language doesn't vibe with you? that's okay! he'll figure out a different, creative way to communicate with you and make sure you're as confident in communicating with him as he can possibly make you

– you guys are both pretty quiet when you're unsure or warming up to each other, but once the two of you get comfortable, it's really easy and fun to bounce off one another. you definitely feed off each other's energy, so watching you guys keep hyping each other up is a blast

– thinks your hobbies are super cool! he probably doesn't know a whole lot about colorguard, so he would be really appreciative if you taught him or showed him what it was, and he'd probably end up finding it really cool and interesting if i'm being honest.

– also really likes watching you draw. if you need inspiration for what to draw, just go and ask ranboo what you should draw; you can always count on him to come up with something creative and outside of the box. the only payment he asks for in response is you letting him watch you draw. he'll watch you draw literally anything. need to warm up your wrist before you start working on something potentially time-consuming? he'll literally sit and excitedly watch you doodle circles or whatever warmups you use

– additionally: gender time /ref

[fific7]

Cold Day in Hell - Part 2

Logan Delos x Reader

A/N: This does not completely follow canon, it’s mainly lemon zest 🍋 because the world needs more Logan Delos.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, including oral, between consenting adults* in some chapters. Drinking and swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My GIF)

Logan went back to his own office after showing her to hers. He sat down in his plush office chair and swivelled slowly from side to side, picking up his pen and tapping it on the desk as he did so. He was thinking. How was he going to approach this?

Unusually for him, Logan wasn’t 100% convinced that she was attracted to him. That was something of a departure for him; the norm was that he would just look at someone and that was it, they were putty in his hands. Not this gal. He thought she might be interested but he could tell that there were walls up there, that was for sure.

Should he ask Juliet? She was dead set against him getting involved with this new lady, but it might be worth listening to one of her lectures if he got some useful ’women’s perspective’ advice at the same time. He got up and strolled the short distance down to her office, knocking and popping his head round the door. Juliet looked up from her screen at him, “Hey, Logan... what can I do for you? I’m right in the middle of something here.”

Irrespective of her comment, Logan went into the office and sat down in the chair opposite her. Sighing, Juliet put her screen lock on and lounged back in her own chair. Knowing him as she did, she could tell just by looking at his face that he was in thinking mode, in fact he wasn’t even looking at her; he was staring at the back of her big computer screen, a sure sign that his mind was off somewhere else. “Logan!” she said firmly, and his eyes snapped to hers, “I’m busy here, darling brother. What’s on your mind?”

As Juliet had been expecting, he said the name of their new secondment. Then he held up a hand, “Now I know you don’t want me to go there, Jules - but I’m serious here. She’s not a one-and-done in my mind.” Juliet snorted, “What then? A two-and-done?!” Logan rolled his eyes, “Ha ha, very funny. No. I’m thinking of something a bit more... established than that.”

Juliet’s eyes widened, “You mean....” her voice took on a mock awestruck tone, “...a relationship, Logan?” He nodded, “Well... yeah. I suppose you could call it that.” She sat forward, eyes boring into his, “No! I just don’t believe you. Look, you’re the guy who’s out on the town every night with a different person. Or occasionally someone you’ve taken out once or twice before. You are just not a monogamous kinda guy! I don’t want you to mess around with this girl!” Logan crossed one leg over the other and made a point of studying his nails, “I know you don’t, but I want to take her out. And I’m gonna take her out, Jules. She can make her own mind up if she doesn’t want anything to do with me from there on.”

Juliet muttered something and Logan leant in a bit, “Whaddya say, sis?” She looked him straight in the eye, “She probably doesn’t want anything to do with you right now, never mind after you’ve taken her out. Your reputation proceeds you, Lo.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d spent a little time arranging the few items you’d brought with you onto your new desk. Your laptop, your favourite pens, a ruler and a stapler. That was it - you liked to travel light. And anything else you needed, you were sure Delos Destinations would be able to supply by the kilo-load. Logan had said to you, before disappearing back to his own office, “I’ll leave you to settle in, and anything you need.... just ask!” There had been the merest hint of a wink accompanying that last comment, but you’d poker-faced it and just said, “Thanks, Logan.... I’ll bear that in mind.”

You so wished that he wasn’t as handsome as he was, as you had to admit that this made it quite difficult to concentrate on your projects. Shaking your head, you pulled up the folder for one of said projects on your laptop and began work on it.

Hopefully Logan would just keep to his own office. Otherwise you weren’t sure how much work you’d actually get done. Your eyes would be too busy drinking in the male masterpiece that was Logan Delos.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Logan walked dejectedly back to his office. The visit to Juliet for advice had been a complete and utter waste of time. All he’d got was one big rant about keeping far away from his new love interest. Well, he wasn’t about to do what she said, he’d be damned if he would.

Back in his office, he took to swinging from side to side in his chair once more. He really didn’t have a clue how to start his campaign to win her over. Logan just wasn’t used to having to chase down anyone he was interested in, so this was a bit of a new challenge for him. Should he go all out and whisk her off somewhere in one of the private jets? Take her out on the company yacht? Pick her up in a limo and take her to a premiere?

Or should he go low-key, ask her out for a coffee and see how that went down? Build it up from there? He’d picked up his pen once more and as he got more and more frustrated, threw it across the room where it bounced off the door, dropped and skittered across the floor. A couple of seconds later, his secretary knocked and opened the door, “Did you need something, Mr Delos?” “Uhhh.. no, no, it’s fine, Stacy, sorry about that.” She gave him a bit of a look, nodded and closed the door.

He sighed and thought to himself that he’d better get ready for these upcoming investor meetings in Seattle the following week. He sat bolt upright in his chair, smacking his forehead. Of course! Why hadn’t he thought of that sooner!

Three days in Seattle... just the two of them.... perfect!

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You heard a small tap and then Juliet’s head appeared round the door. “Welcome!” she smiled, coming into the office and over to you, giving you a big hug. “I’m so pleased you’re here!” You agreed, “Yes, I’m pleased to be here. It’s lovely to see you, Juliet.” “It’s going to be so much easier all round,” she said, before sitting down opposite you, “...it’s going to make a big difference to the status of the projects.” She paused, her eyes - so like Logan’s - gazing into yours, “And.... I don’t mean to sound off-putting, especially on your first day... but I’m guessing you already know that my brother is really quite taken with you?”

You gave a small smile, “Umm... yes I kind of did get that vibe.” She nodded, “You’re a damn good engineer and that’s a big part of the reason you’re here, but this was Logan’s idea and I’ll be straight with you, he’s busy working out how he’s going to get close to you.”

Laughing out loud, “Juliet, no offence to your brother - who’s a very good-looking guy - but it’ll be a cold day in hell before I go out with him. I know he’s a complete player.” She laughed too, “I’m glad you’re already aware of that. I mean, I love my brother to bits but he is just terrible at relationships! He doesn’t mean to be, but he says he doesn’t know if he could ever love anyone, any one person. It’s not really in his DNA.”

You took a breath, thought to yourself, why not? - and asked, “Is his ...uhh... substance abuse a thing of the past now? Well, as much as it can ever be.” Juliet nodded, a pained look on her face, “Yes, thank god. We had a pretty awful time with him for a while, especially after a... a particular situation in Westworld, but he’s clean now and still goes to meetings every so often just to keep himself in line. I really thought we’d lost him a couple of times, so yes, he’s done really well. I’m proud of him.” “You should be,” you agreed, having seen tears welling in her eyes when she’d mentioned losing him. “I’m sorry I brought that up, Juliet, I shouldn’t have said anything.” She smiled, “Hey, it’s fine. You should know what you’re getting into... or rather not getting into!”

You both laughed at that.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

In the meantime, Logan had asked his secretary to book one of the private jets and two hotel suites in downtown Seattle for the dates of the investor meetings. He was almost bouncing around his office, he was so pleased with himself and his new plan.

He thought he heard the sound of laughter coming from her office, and couldn’t stop himself from going right next door to see what was going on. He opened the door after a brief knock on it, and saw his sister sitting with the object of his affections, the two of them still laughing.

Juliet turned round and said with a smile, “Lo! We were just talking about you.” His eyes narrowed suspiciously, “Oh yeah?” She nodded, “Yeah. Are your ears flaming?” Logan scowled at her, “What have you been saying, Jules?” with a quick, anxious look over at the other woman in the room. Juliet stood up and said, “Oh, nothing too bad, Logan,” giving him a wicked little smile and striding out of the room.

Logan watched Juliet go before clearing his throat and turning back just in time to see her hiding a smile. “C’mon,” he said, “...what did she say?” She shook her head, “Honestly, nothing bad. She was just pulling your strings.” Logan just managed to stop himself saying that she would be more than welcome to pull his strings, before sitting down in the chair which Juliet had just vacated. “Okay... well, what I came in to tell you is that we’re going to Seattle next week...” total surprise on her face, “....to some investor meetings,” Logan carried on smoothly. “Oh now, Logan, why on earth would you want me to go to them?” “You’ll be able to update them on a few of those middleware projects you’re working on. You were so much better than that boring asshole they let do most of the presentation. You’ll wow these guys.”

She was still looking at him as if he’d asked her to go to the moon. “It’s all booked,” he said quickly, a tiny bit of confidence leaving his voice, “...so I’ll give you the dates and schedule, okay?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Oh, he’s booked it already has he? you thought. Sighing, you could feel your shoulders slump a little in defeat as you agreed to go with him. You knew that your boss wouldn’t be very impressed if you didn’t, as apart from helping Delos Destinations get more investment, you’d be floating your own company’s name out in front of them.

“Who else is going?” you asked, and saw a distinct gleam in Logan’s dark eyes as he answered, “Uhh.. just the two of us. Don’t want to overwhelm them with too many speakers.” He slapped his hands down onto his thighs, “Well, I’d better get back, I’ve got a meeting in 5. I’ll get those details to you asap.” He stood up, “See you later,” and left your office.

Okayyy - just the two of you? This trip was shaping up to be something out of a bad romcom.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Logan had mentioned the proposed Seattle trip to Juliet as they were both leaving the office, casually dropping in who was going amongst all the other details. She stopped in the middle of the corridor, looking round to see if anyone else was within earshot before saying in an exasperated tone, “Really, Logan? Are you serious? And I suppose there’s only going to be one room available when you get there?!” Logan held up both hands, “No!! You can check, there are two rooms booked!”

Juliet scowled at him, “Logan, I swear - you better be on your best behaviour. She’s only just arrived, so you piss her off this early in then I’m going to be super pissed too!” Logan did one of his over-exaggerated eye rolls, “Oh for fuck’s sake stop worrying, Jules, I’m not about to piss her off. I’m out to charm her.”

“Oh god help her then,” muttered Juliet as she stalked towards her car.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Logan took your hand as you stepped out of the chauffeur-driven car at the private airstrip. You’d thought about ignoring his outstretched hand but instead placed yours in his. A smile appeared on his face, “Now, this is how it’s gonna be over the next few days - us holding each other’s hands through the investor meetings.” You rolled your eyes, “Whatever you say, Logan.” “I do say,” he smirked, hand going to the small of your back as you reached the bottom of the steps up to the aircraft and guiding you onto them. You knew that his eyes were glued to your rear as you made your way up the steps, but tried to ignore the feeling. Every so often you’d catch Logan’s eyes on you, looking at you as if you were a prey animal and this made you even more determined to avoid getting involved with him.

But lordy it wasn’t easy, you admitted to yourself as you watched him settle his tall frame into the extremely comfortable seat facing yours. You’d never been on a private jet before, but you were having difficulty paying attention to all its facilities when Logan was looking absolutely edible in an impeccable dark blue suit and light pink shirt, unbuttoned quite low as usual and showing off a little chest hair. Your eyes met his after you’d finished exploring his body, and he was looking so smug you wanted to punch him. Damn! You’d better be more guarded in future when drooling over him.

Now you started showing an interest in the interior of the plane, but every time you caught Logan’s eye he was still smirking at you.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Ha! he laughed to himself, he’d obviously chosen the right suit then. He’d taken particular care when dressing that morning as he’d wanted to look really good for her and it seemed he’d made a good choice, judging by the look on her face when she’d finished eyeing him up and down.

He lounged back in his seat, still gazing at her. He wanted to fuck her so badly! His mind supplied a vision of himself climbing on top of her as she sat there, undoing her top, pushing her skirt up and.... He could feel himself getting hard just from that short clip playing in his head right now.

“Wanna fu-...”, he clamped his jaw shut, before carrying on, “...wanna drink, sweetheart?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You were under no illusions as to exactly what was running through Logan’s mind at that moment.

You’d noticed how his eyes had glazed over slightly as he stared at you, his lips parted, and you could literally see his trousers tightening by the second over his groin. The dead giveaway was when he almost asked you if you wanted to fuck instead of what you wanted to drink. You couldn’t stop a smile making its way onto your lips. There was an undeniable thrill that you could turn him on like this ...but No!!! your brain said. This guy’s middle name is ‘Player’ and even his own sister had warned you what a hound-dog he was.

“I’ll have a G&T, please,” you said sweetly, “...and nothing else, thanks.”

Logan looked stunned for a second, then pressed the call button for the attendant.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Oh shit, Logan thought, she knows exactly what I was thinking. I guess I’m being a little obvious here, I’d better calm it the hell down. He just wasn’t used to playing it cool in the pursuit of someone. Usually he went from 0 to 90 in sixty seconds, and the people he hung out with expected that from him. Not this gorgeous example of womanhood though. He was going to have to majorly change his approach.

But being with her like this - so close, just the two of them - was driving him crazy as it felt really intimate, and while his thoughts were still firmly planted in the sexual receptor of his brain, the longer they were on the plane together the more he realised that he was enjoying just being with her. Which surprised him to be honest, that wasn’t something that normally entered his sphere of relations with other people. She had a very calm demeanour, and it made him feel at ease. Conversation flowed, and he felt like he was getting to know her a lot more.

Initially he’d hinted to his sister that he wanted more than sex from his new love interest to get Juliet off his back, but now it appeared that karma had got him fair and square. It felt like that he did really want something more.

What that was, he wasn’t exactly sure yet.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Checking in to the fancy hotel in downtown Seattle, you noticed the receptionists - male and female - checking out Logan and not being discreet about it. He, meanwhile, was in his element, flirting up a storm with them while handing over his black Delos card to register for the rooms. You shook your head, smiling to yourself. This was exactly what put you off him. You were more than certain that he’d be sharing a bed with one or all of them that night.

He handed you your keycard, and quickly noting your room number you took off like a shot towards the elevators. Logan had been surprised when you’d set off so briskly, and scrambled to grab his bag and suitcase beside the reception desk before following you.

He reached the elevator just as you turned, smiling at him and commenting, “Have fun with your new little friends,” and nodding your head back towards reception.

Hitting the ‘close doors’ button, you were still smiling at him as the doors closed.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Logan scrabbled at the ‘call’ button but not quickly enough to stop the doors closing in his face. Damn it! The other elevator arrived after a couple of moments and he rushed into it, wanting to catch up with her. What had he done wrong? She’d seemed pissed off underneath that smile. And what did she mean by his ‘new little friends’? Then he realised what had ticked her off - he’d been doing his usual flirting with the hired help who of course had been flirting right back.

But it didn’t mean anything to him, it was just his usual m.o., didn’t she realise that? He’d obviously need to introduce her to the Delos way of doing things so there’d be no future misunderstandings.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You were just putting your toiletries out in the bathroom when there was a knock on the door. Knowing it would be Logan, you opened the door to find him standing outside still with his suitcase and bag in hand. “Come in,” you invited and he walked quickly inside. You went back to the bathroom and finished laying out your shower gel and shampoo.

He stopped next to your bed and sat on it, waiting until you emerged from the bathroom. You had to admit he looked good on your bed but dismissed the thought and headed over to your suitcase to start unpacking. “I always flirt with the staff,” he said, “...it gets you a better level of service.” “Or just gets you serviced,” you said before you could stop yourself. You heard his deep chuckle as you kept taking items out of your case.

“No, that’s not the aim,” he said, “truly it’s not.” Walking over to the unit underneath the giant flat-screen TV attached to the wall, you began putting the garments away in the drawers then became aware of Logan invading your personal space to look over your shoulder. He was smirking at you and you suddenly realised you were holding a handful of your lingerie. Long fingers stroked one of the silky pairs of panties you were holding and you abruptly shoved them all into the drawer and slammed it shut. “Logan!” you admonished him, but his only reaction was to keep smiling mischievously at you.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Logan had tried to persuade her to come out on the town with him but she’d decided to stay in the hotel and have an early night. So he’d gone out on his own, heading to a restaurant he’d eaten at before and ordering a steak and some wine. The waitress had been very interested in him, hitting on him shamelessly but he’d politely brushed her off.

There was only one person he wanted in his bed. Not sure how long it’s gonna take me to get her there though, he thought glumly.

What did surprise him was the fact that he was willing to hang on in there until that happened.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Drifting off to sleep, aware of the low sound of the TV in the background, you couldn’t even be bothered to sit up to grab the remote and switch it off. There was a low knock on your door, then a second one - louder - when you didn’t answer the door. Groaning, you got up and went over to it, looking through the peephole to see Logan standing outside.

Sighing, you opened the door and he swept into your room as if he owned it. Then with typical Logan braggadocio he threw himself gracefully onto your bed, propping up some pillows behind him, crossing his ankles and linking his hands behind his head. You rolled your eyes heavenwards and closed the door, making your way towards where he lay. You were damned if he was going to chase you out of your bed. Standing beside it with your hands on your hips, you demanded, “Logan... what do you think you’re doing exactly?” Those dark eyes of his roamed all over you in your short little silk nightdress and he smiled, “I’m lonely.”

“Lonely!” you laughed, “You’re... you’re just... unbelievable!” His smile got wider, “I’m more than willing to prove just how unbelievable I am, but you won’t let me.” “Do you blame me, Logan?” His smile faltered, and he looked away from you, gazing at the TV, “I guess not.” But then those dark chocolate eyes were back on you, “But you could at least give me a chance,” he said with a small but genuine smile.

You felt yourself melt a little, you couldn’t help it. So against your better judgement, you lay down next to him on the bed, under the covers. “Can I get myself a drink?” he asked. “Oh, I see, it’s my mini-bar you’re after, is it? Help yourself.” He got up and headed over to it, laughing and turning back to you, “You know only too well what I want, sweetheart.”

“You can have a whisky, Delos, but that’s all you’re having.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Logan sighed as he poured the whisky miniature into a glass and made his way back over to the bed. But then he perked up, after all he had made it into her bed - in a manner of speaking - and against all expectations. Now he just had to make sure he didn’t screw it up (again, in a manner of speaking) by hitting on her.

If he got to spend the night in her bed, that would be enough for him - for now.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Your eyes slowly opened and you gave a little yawn, wondering what time it was and thinking that today was the first round of investor meetings, when you suddenly realised that you could feel someone’s breath on your ear and that there was an arm slung over your stomach. You were lying on your side and you moved your head slightly to look over your shoulder, but you knew what you’d see before you did.

Logan. His eyes closed, hair tousled, lying on top of the covers but he’d still managed to more or less wrap himself around you. He shifted slightly, giving a little sigh and burrowing his nose even further into the nape of your neck.

Oh hell. This was really not a good plan, but you couldn’t deny how good it felt to be lying here with him. He looked so deliciously handsome while he was asleep. But also vulnerable. You turned away from him and studied the bedroom wall opposite you.

You really did have to watch how you were handling this, or despite your best intentions you were going to end up getting badly hurt.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Logan awoke from the very horny dream he’d been having, only to remember that he was partly living it in real life. He sensed she was awake - he could tell by her breathing - and he decided to push his luck a bit. He gave a small sigh as if he was still sleeping, and gently rubbed his erection against the back of her leg. He heard a quick intake of breath, and smiled to himself as he felt her trying to squirm away from him but he tightened the arm he’d sneaked over her during the night.

“Logan!” she hissed, “Get that away from me!” He chuckled, “Aw sweetheart, get what away from you?” He further pushed his luck by moving her hair aside and kissing her behind her ear.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You shivered, he’d kissed you somewhere you wished he hadn’t as it made you want to kiss him back so badly. You were very aware of his body pressed up against yours, how good he smelt, how good it felt to be lying there with him almost wrapped around you....

You’d better get him out of this bed before you made a catastrophically bad decision.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

(Not my GIF - credit to owner)

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@obscurilicious @theshadowkingsqueen

[skyeet-the-writer]

Can you write a corpse x reader when she finds out she's pregnant and she's playing among us and she imposter with corpse and she kill someone and someone sees and reports it right away she get all nauseous and let's it slip to everyone while she go to throw up and corpse doesn't know what to do but he's excited to be a dad. You can change it up and add thing if you want, I was writing everything down, sorry if this is weird.

And If You Wanna Stay … Please Stay

yes finally a pregnant request! also, i’m gonna be waiting to get the triggered pro-life people in my asks and DMs about how ‘iT’s A LiViNg BeInG”. like what’s the baby gonna do? tell it’s mom??

corpse x female!reader 

summary: when the reader gets morning sickness during an Among Us game, Corpse and her expect the worst. And they get it. 

word count: ~4.8k 

warnings: swearing, vomiting, mentions of abortions, mentions of being pregnant, a little bit of suggestive content near the end but nothing happens

He’s finally asleep, you think to yourself as you watch your boyfriend’s chest rise and fall. He needed it.

Recently, Corpse has had trouble sleeping for more than three hours. You two had tried everything you could think of. You had tried staying up late to get him tired, you tried subliminals and music to get him to sleep. You even tried to give him a massage one time, but that led to other things.

You look over at the drawn curtains and pull them back a little. There, on the window, you have tin foil covering them. It’s a trick you learned from your dad when you were younger. When he worked night shifts, he had to sleep during the day, and he had trouble sleeping since your parent’s room had thin curtains. And so your father taped tin foil to all of the windows in their room so that he could sleep.

You’re not exactly sure why this seemed to work for Corpse, but you’re certainly not complaining. He looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping. He doesn’t look stressed, he doesn’t look sad. He looks so calm.

You lean forward and peck his nose. His breathing stutters and his nose wrinkles. You giggle and slowly, he opens his eyes. He blinks a few times and his brown eyes look around the room before settling on your face. He grins and your smile widens.

“That’s a pretty face to wake up to,” he mumbles and his morning voice makes you blush. “Oh my god, you’re already blushing.”

You blush even harder and bury your face in his neck. He laughs and hugs you around your waist. “Don’t make fun of me, asshole.”

He kisses your hair. “Morning, baby.”

“Good morning,” you mumble into his skin. You pull away so that you’re only a few inches apart. He leans forward and nuzzles your nose against his. Instead of kissing in the morning--you can’t handle his morning breath--you nuzzle your noses together.

“How’d you sleep?” you ask after you two pull away.

He smiles. “Really good, actually.” He chuckles and looks up at the window. “I guess the foil worked.”

You laugh and sit up. You’ve been awake for a little while and your stomach growls. “You hungry, babe?”

He nods and sits up as well, running a hand through his hair and shaking it out. “Can we have pancakes?”

“You can eat those, right?” you ask. You stand up out of bed and walk to the kitchen, your boyfriend trailing behind you.

“Yeah,” you hear him say. “Even if I couldn’t, I’d still want to eat them because you make really good pancakes.”

You smile. “Really? Thanks, babe.” 

You get out the ingredients to make the pancakes when Corpse announces that he’s going to take a shower. You give him a kiss on his cheek and notice it’s a little scratchy. You grab his chin suddenly and he blinks at you as you run a thumb against his cheekbone. 

“Want me to shave?” he asks softly.

You shrug. “If you want.”

He grabs your hand and presses his lips against your finger. He gives you a sweet little smile. “I’ll shave.” He squeezes your hand before walking back to your room.

After mixing all of the ingredients, you drop a few droplets onto the buttered up griddle. When it sizzles, you pour two medium-sized pancakes before going to search for the spatula. 

When you find it in the dishwasher, you flip both of the pancakes and grin. They’re both perfect. You notice it’s quiet in the kitchen and call out, “Alexa.” You hear her go off in the living room. “Play some fall lofi.”

“Playing ‘Midnight Lofi - Fall Vibes’.

”You smile when it starts to come from the living room. It’s a little quiet, so you say, “Turn it up.”

The music starts to play a little louder and you smile more. It’s so aesthetically pleasing, lofi music. It’s probably one of your favorite music genres. Before you moved in with Corpse, you had to listen to something and you eventually began to fall asleep to lofi. But now that you’ve been living with him for almost a year, you don’t listen to it as much. Usually when you’re cleaning the house or playing music when you study for school. 

You cook a few more pancakes and when you’re putting them on a plate, you have an idea. Corpse can’t eat chocolate because of his health, but you can. And you usually have a secret stash of chocolate in the back of the pantry. You’ve been craving chocolate a lot for the past week which is weird because your monthly hasn’t started yet even though it should have a few days ago. But you don’t dwell on that thought and pull up a chair from the small island and stand on top of it to reach the very back of the pantry. Your fingers skim the edge of the chocolate chip bag and you grab it between your middle and index finger. You grin at it and go to hop off of the chair when suddenly--

“What are you doing?”

You yell and you almost slip off the chair. Luckily, you land on your feet and wobble. You look up at your boyfriend when you regain your balance. He’s smirking and looking between you and the bag in your hand. 

“Chocolate,” you tell him, making your way back to the griddle like nothing happened. “You know, just because you can’t eat it doesn’t mean I have to suffer with you.”

He laughs and leans on the counter next to you. “I know you have a stash, y/n.”

You look at him with wide eyes, stopping in your tracks. “You do?”

He nods. “Yep. I knew since the first month you moved in. You’re bad at hiding it, you know.”

You blink at him before shrugging, walking over to the griddle. “Well, you’re not allowed to have any.” You stick your tongue out at him and sprinkle the mini chocolate chips into the remaining batter. There are enough pancakes for Corpse, so you’ll just cook up the rest for yourself.

Usually, you and Corpse don’t wake up until after breakfast time since you have a habit of sleeping in. But when you can wake up early enough for breakfast, you both like to sit out at the small balcony and eat together.

“What are we doing today?” you ask Corpse, sitting across from him at the small metal table.

There’s a breeze and it ruffles his hair. “I was gonna stream Among Us later. You can play, too. My fans love you.” He smiles and looks down at his plate.

“As they should.” You flip your hair and the two of you laugh. “Yeah, I can play for a little while. I’ve got classes to do and a paper due tomorrow, though.” While Corpse is a Youtuber and a streamer, you’re a college student taking classes at San Diego State University, trying to get your major in anthropology and a minor in Spanish and engineering. “God, I have a test at the end of the week, babe. I’m gonna fail it,” you mutter, putting your face in your hands. 

“What’s it in?”

“Spanish,” you tell him, pushing a blueberry with your fork. 

He gives you a stare. “Babe, I’m literally half Mexican.” He laughs.

You throw the blueberry at his head and it bounces off onto the floor. “Shut up, stop making fun of me!”

He grins. “I can tell you the answers as you take the test. It’s online, right?”

You nod. “Yeah, I chose all online classes this year. I mean, you could. But that’s cheating.” You flip a piece of your pancake over. “And I don’t wanna cheat. I cheated all the way through high school. I want college to be different.”

Corpse grabs your hand and you look up at him. He’s smiling at you. “You’re smart, baby. You’re gonna do fine. You’re gonna get your degrees and you’re gonna be the best... what are you studying again?”

“Anthropology,” you tell him quietly.

“You’re gonna be the best anthropologist ever.”

You crack a small smile. “Do you even know what an anthropologist is?”

“No.”

You laugh and that gets him to smile. You lean across the table and press a gentle kiss to his lips. It’s a little sticky and sweet because of the syrup, but you’re not complaining.

Later that morning, after taking a shower while Corpse cleans breakfast up, Corpse says that he’s going to stream and you come and join him. There’s a monitor across from his that you use from time to time and a headset as well.

Your boyfriend sends you the code for the Discord and the Among Us game. Corpse looks at you from across the desks and you smile. He grins back and your stomach churns. You blink and wince at the feeling. You’ve been feeling nauseated for a few days now and you don’t want to get sick during a stream.

“Hi Corpse,” someone says as you load into the waiting room. You look back at the screen as someone gasps. “y/n! Best friend!”

It’s Sean and you laugh. “Hi, Sean.”

“y/n!” exclaims someone else and you realize that it’s Lily.

“I thought I was your best friend, Jack!” says Sykkuno and he sounds hurt.

You smile and move your character to the customization. You choose yellow and choose the leaf hat. Since your gamer tag is “lemon” you always try and be a lemon.

“Aw, y/n’s a lemon,” says Dave.

You laugh and run circles around him. “Hi, Dave.”

You hear him laugh and Corpse chuckles in front of you. You look at him and be flashes you a smile.

The round starts and the red “IMPOSTER” text lights up your screen. You’re paired up with Felix. You haven’t been the imposter with Felix too often, so you don’t know what to expect. You mute your headset and head down to storage to fake wires before going to fake another task.

 You’re standing in the electrical room pretending to download data when Sykkuno walks in. You pull up the sabotage map and close the door before killing him and venting. You come out in the medbay and head over to the cafeteria.

 When a body is reported, it’s Lily’s. You unmute yourself and bite your thumbnail as your stomach churns even more. You’re starting to get worried that you’re going to get sick.

 “I found Lily in admin,” says Sean. “And I didn’t see anyone around.”

“Sykkuno is dead, too,” Julien points out.

 “Oh shit,” you mutter and hold a hand over your mouth. You try to keep the bile from rising while everyone talks and you don’t bother to listen. You do hear someone say that they’re going to skip voting and you do the same.

When no one is ejected, you mute your mic once again and go to follow Corpse down to the shields. You stand beside him while he does his task. Sorry, babe, you think and kill him just as your kill cooldown reaches zero.

 You smirk and run away in the opposite direction and you can feel him staring at you. You glance up at him and your smile widens. “What?”

He just shakes his head and you laugh.

You meet up with Dave and follow him around and fake wires with him. At one point, you and he cross paths with Felix and Toast. You may not know Felix too well, but any good imposter knows to go for a double kill. So as you run by each other in the cafeteria, you close the door and both you and Felix kill who you were with before venting away. 

By the time you’re out of the vent and running away from admin, Dave’s body is reported. Your stomach feels awful now and you’re almost certain you’re going to throw up in the next thirty seconds.

 “Fuck.” You unmute your mic. “It was me, I killed Dave. I’m the imposter. I’ll be right back.” You practically throw your headset off and run for the bathroom.

 ~

Corpse watches you practically run out of the room. For a second, he’s not sure what to do. Should he go after you? But he’s in the middle of streaming.

“y/n?” Sean asks. “Corpse, where’d she go?”

“Is she okay?” Julien wonders.

He nods even though no one can see him. “Y—yeah. I’m gonna go check on her. I’ll be right back.” He mutes his mic and takes his headphones off before leaving the room to go check on you.

He finds you on the tiled bathroom floor vomiting into the toilet. He curses and kneels behind you, pulling your hair back.

When you finish, he says, “This is the third time this week you’ve gotten sick, baby.”

You groan and lean your head on your arm. “I know. I don’t know why. Well, I—“ You cut yourself off and go still as if you suddenly had a realization.

Corpse tilts his head. “What is it?”

It takes you a few long moments to respond. “…My period is late. And I’m getting morning sickness. Plus I’ve been moody.” You turn back to look at him and he can tell you’re about to cry. “Corpse.”

You don’t need to say anything else. He’s already standing up, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach and his shaking hands. “I’ll go get you some tests.”

You grab his hand. “Corpse, no! I’ll go.”

He shakes his head and gets on his knees in front of you. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll be okay, don’t worry about me.”

Your lip quivers. “You don’t have to do this. I know how much you don’t like going outside. Really, it’s not a big deal, I can go get some.”

But then he kisses your forehead. “y/n, it’s okay. You need to rest. I won’t be out for very long.” He stands up after squeezing your hands. “I’ll be back in, like, twenty minutes.”

Before you can do anything to stop him, he turns around and goes to grab his mask and his wallet before grabbing your car keys. He doesn’t like to drive, but you’re worried and driving is quicker. And right now you’re the most important thing for him to be thinking about.

~

When Corpse leaves, you sigh and stay sitting on the floor for a few more minutes while your stomach settles itself. Afterward, you get up and brush your teeth after flushing the toilet. Deciding to get some school work done, you grab your laptop and head to the living room.

When you pass by his recording room, however, you see his monitor still on. You curse and head inside. He’s still streaming. You sit down and put his headset on and unmute his mic. “Hey, guys.”

You glance at the exploding chat as Sean asks, “y/n? Where’s Corpse? Are you okay?”

I’m probably pregnant. “Uh, I’m kind of sick, so Corpse went out to get me some, uh, stuff. Sorry, but we gotta go. Uh, it was fun streaming.”

“Okay,” says Sykkuno. “I hope you feel better, y/n.”

“Thanks,” you mumble. “Bye, guys.” You leave the chat and close the game before looking at Corpse’s stream chat. “Sorry about this, guys. I had fun streaming, though, I’m sure Corse did too. Have a good day.” You smile even though they can’t see you before ending the stream. You go over to your monitor and leave the game and chat in your own game. You lean back in your chair and press your hands in your eyelids.

You want to cry. You want to scream. You can’t be pregnant. You’re still a kid, you haven’t completed college yet. You and Corpse aren’t even married.

You suck in a shaky breath and wipe your damp eyes. “I’m probably not pregnant,” you whisper and stand up to go into the living room. “I probably just ate something bad. Yeah, that’s it.”

You sit in the living room on the couch with a blanket around your shoulders, trying to focus on your schoolwork. But you can’t. Your mind is too overwhelmed with the possibilities. You hope Corpse is okay. You know how much he hates going outside and being around other people.

You turn back to look at the lecture your professor posted and sigh. You just need to relax and calm down. Just wait until Corpse gets back and focus on schoolwork until then. 

It takes a while, but he does come back. Some small voice in your head thought that he wasn’t going to come back, but you quickly pushed it away. Corpse loves you and he’d never leave you. 

The front door opens and you look up from the paper you’re in the middle of typing. You meet him in the hallway where he’s taking his mask off, a plastic bag in his hand. He meets your eyes and cups your face in one hand. 

“Are you okay?” he asks softly. 

Your chin wobbles and you shake your head. Tears form in the edges of your eyes and you suck in a deep breath. “Did you get some tests?”

 He nods hand hands the bag to you. But before you can take them, he grabs your wrist. “Hey. I’m not leaving, y/n.”

You nod before taking the bag from him and quickly walking to the bathroom. You’re scared to say anything because you know that if you do, you’ll start to cry.

 Ten minutes later, you’re sitting on the bathroom floor with Corpse, leaning into his side as he rubs your shoulder. There are three tests on the counter and your boyfriend has a timer running on his phone for five minutes. So far, three minutes have passed. To you, they’ve felt like a lifetime.

 “Are you okay?” Corpse asks quietly, finally breaking the silence.

 You shrug, not entirely sure how you feel. “I don’t know. I’m scared.” You glance down at your stomach and place a hand on your naval. “If I am pregnant, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m young.” You look at him. “We’re young. I’m still in college. I can’t afford to have a kid!”

“I know.” He draws you closer to your shoulder. “But whatever you decide to do, I’m going to support you. And I’m not going to leave you, either. In case you were worried about that.”

Even though you shouldn’t have been, you were.

Luckily, Corpse changes the subject, going on to say, “I’ve been working on another song.”

 “Really?” 

He nods. “Yeah. It’s kind of a lofi type song. I can show you the lyrics, later, if you want.”

 You smile a little and look up at him, staring into his shining, dark eyes. “I’d like that.”

He smiles back and leans down to give you a small kiss. When you pull away, his phone rings, signaling that the timer is done. He turns his phone off and you stand up, walking towards the counter where the tests are. You pick one up. 

One line.

 You let out a breath of relief and turn to Corpse where he’s leaning on the sink. “Negative.”

He smiles a little. “What about the other two?”

 You look back down at the other two tests. You pick one up and your heart drops. Two lines. You swallow and gently place it down as your hands begin to shake. Maybe that one is a false positive. There’s still another one. Whatever this one says will probably determine if you’re pregnant or not.

 And so you pick it up. And you smack a hand over your mouth when you see two lines. You’re pregnant. You’re pregnant. The test falls from your hands and you fall to your knees, tears streaming down your face.

 “Baby, what did it say?” Corpse asks, coming to your side and trying to coax your face into his hand. “Babe?”

“I don’t want a baby!” you exclaim through your tears. “I can’t handle that. I’m too young, I’m not ready. We’re not ready.” You lean into his arms as he pulls you towards him. “Corpse, I don’t want it.”

He nods and you feel him run his fingers through your hair. “It’s your decision, babe. It’s your choice. And I’m gonna support you either way if you want to keep it or not. If you do decide to keep it, then we’ll figure something out. If not, I’ll drive you there and get you In-N-Out or something.”

That gets you to laugh as you tighten your arms around him. “You’ll really buy me food?”

“Yes. I’d do anything for you.”

Your stomach churns that night as you’re scheduling an appointment to get rid of the clump of cells in your body. You’re nervous and Corpse was sweet enough to order you whatever you want for dinner. 

You get off the phone as Corpse grabs the food from the delivery person and walks into the kitchen. He looks at you as he places the bags down on the counter. “So?”

You swallow and lean on the counter. “My appointment is in a couple of days.”

He nods and approaches you, placing his hands on your hips and drawing you to his chest. “It’s going to be okay, love.”

You lean your head on his chest. “Am I a bad person?”

“Of course not. It’s your body. You can do whatever you want with it. And besides, it’s not like it’s living anyway.”

You giggle as you try not to cry again. “What’s the baby gonna do? Remember it?”

Corpse laughs his deep and rumbly laugh and you grin. “True. But I seriously will buy you In-N-Out if you want. Or McDonald’s.”

You laugh again and tighten your arms around him. “Okay. And, Corpse?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for being so supportive of wanting to get rid of it.”

He kisses your head. “Don’t thank me.”

When you and Corpse are laying in bed after watching a true-crime documentary, he’s gently dragging his nails up and down your back as you’re nestled into his chest. The tinfoil is still on the windows and it makes the room even darker. Which is actually the entire point.

 Something had been rattling around in your head for the past few hours and you hadn’t gotten the courage to ask Corpse. But here, in the darkness of the bedroom the two of you share, you often ask each other stupid questions late at night when neither of you can fall asleep.

 And it feels like it’s going to be another one of those nights because you’re wide-awake and you know Corpse is as well. And so you ask, “Do you ever want to have kids together?”

His hand abruptly stops dragging his nails on your back. “What?”

 You regret asking him, but there’s no going back now. “When we’re older, would you ever want to have a family together?”

His hand begins to slowly go up and down your back once more. “Maybe. If you want to. If you want to have kids one day when we’re older, then I’ll definitely have kids with you.”

This makes you smile and you tighten your arms around his middle. “I love you, Corpse.”

“I love you, too.” He kisses your head. “Before we have kids, we should get married first.”

You grumble and say, “We’ll see who proposes first, then.”

He laughs and wraps his arms around your waist. “It’ll probably be you, baby. I’m too anxious.”

“Excuses, excuses,” you huff but the two of you laugh. “I’m too broke to afford a ring, though. You might have to settle with a Ring Pop.”

“If you propose to me with an onion ring and I would say yes.”

You giggle as something else comes to mind. “What about those cheap, plastic spider rings? Or the ones that come on cupcakes.”

Corpse laughs again and begins to scratch your back again. “If you do that, we would get married on the spot,” he says in that deep and gravely voice of his.

 You grin. “I’m keeping that in mind.”

Corpse hums into your shoulder. “You’re not going to fall asleep anytime soon, are you?”

 You shake your head. “No. Are you?”

“Nope.”

“What do you want to do?” you ask him, pulling away from him to look at his face through the darkness.

 Even though you can’t see him too much, you know he’s smirking. “Well, there’s already a fetus in you. Want to see if we can get another one?” 

You laugh and push his chest. “You’re disgusting, Corpse!”

He laughs and grabs your hands and lifts your arms up so he can roll on top of you. “Maybe. But it got you to laugh.”

You blush and turn your head to the side as he sits on top of you, holding your hands above your head. He starts to kiss down your neck and you sigh. “Corpse.”

He hums against your skin.

 You bite your lip. “I’m not really in the mood, babe.”

Immediately, he stops what he was doing and lifts his head. “Okay. That’s fine, babe. It’s been a long day. Can we still cuddle, though?”

You nod and smile. “Of course. You can be the little spoon.”

“Yay!” he exclaims and climbs on top of you and rolls on his side. You get yourself situated behind him and throw one arm over his stomach and use the other one to play with his incredibly curly hair. Your legs get tangled together like they always do and you bury your fingers in his hair while he lets out a deep breath through his nose. 

“Happy?” you ask him quietly and he nods. You squeeze his stomach with the arm you have there and kiss his head. “Okay. Try to sleep again, babe, okay?”

He nods, but both of you know you’re not going to fall asleep for a while. And that’s okay. You both sit there in the darkness talking about everything and nothing while you play with his hair and he holds the hand around his stomach with one of his hands. You don’t say anything else about you being pregnant or kids or how you want to get rid of it, and you’re glad. You don’t want to talk about it because you feel like a bad person for not wanting the baby. 

Of course, you’re not going to change your mind. Neither you nor Corpse are ready for a child. But that small voice in your head tells you that you’re making the wrong choice or a bad decision.

 But you don’t listen to it. You don’t listen to it that night while Corpse falls asleep again in your arms or when you’re in class the next day. Not even when you’re listening to a demo of Corpse’s new song in the car on the way to the clinic.

 “It’s really good!” you exclaim as he parks in the parking lot. “I love it, babe.”

He smiles at you before glancing at the clinic. “Want me to go with you?”

You shake your head. “No, I’ll be fine. It'll take little while, though. So you can go do something else if you want to.”

He nods and leans in to give you a kiss. “Okay. I love you. Text me if anything goes wrong at all, okay?”

You laugh gently and nod. “Okay, I will.”

“Love you,” he tells you again as you’re putting your mask on.

 You pull it down and smile at him softly. “You already said that, babe.”

He blushes and looks away. “O--oh. Sorry.”

You just kiss his cheek. “It’s okay. I’ll be back.” You pull your mask back up and gather your things before getting out of the car. You wave to him and then make your way into the clinic.

 And Corpse did stay true to his words about getting you In-N-Out after your appointment. He even paid for it and got you a milkshake, too. 

That night, after finally dragging Corpse away from his computer so he’ll at least try to fall asleep with you, you begin to think. You feel better after your appointment. Before, you were incredibly stressed out and even a little depressed. But afterward, you felt so much better. You felt like you could breathe and no have to worry about throwing up or eating the wrong thing.

 And you didn’t regret getting an abortion. You and Corpse both knew neither of you are ready for one and that’s okay. You’re both still young and still new to being together. But as Corpse hums some song against your neck with his nose buried in the skin there, you feel the vibrations from his throat against your shoulder. You sigh happily and push a hand into his hair and gently scratch at his scalp. You feel him smile against your neck and you can’t help but mimic it.

 Yeah. You and Corpse aren’t ready for kids. But maybe you will be one day.

---------------------

I’m sorry, but the tag list is closed. It’s just too stressful for me to keep adding them. I’m sorry, guys. Also sorry to everyone who messaged me to add them because I didn’t write them down and can’t access my messages now. Still love you guys! x. 

@honeysuger @chubby-dumpling @polahorvat @annshit @simonsbluee @dad-ee-drea @save-the-sky @wibblytimey @thegirlwholikestomanythings @yagorlnessa @alilshit @majolittlemixgurl18 @the-bunny-anon @hufflepuff-always-and-forever @loraleiix @artist-bby @ellomellows @pillowjj @matthew-gray-g @myherotrashbin @sunnsetteeee @lxdybyrd @cultofandom @anngelllla @tododokizuku @pachowpachowbucket @gaysludge @bethpiercwhy @marvelkatwoman @c0rpsew1fe @your-cherry-bomb @bi-andready-tocry @redosmo @gracehaileym @helena-way07 @nekomacam @fadingprunebagelfestival @fifiyau105 @easygoingtheatre @satanwithagenda @gracehaileym @oumachii @mythicalreader @this-isnt-living-anymore @punkrainbows @kitsunedarian @crapimahuman @honestlyimstilllivinginthe90s @realnicoleworld @scarswideworld @bluewneptune @weeblyheaux @beebo-at-the-church @melmachh @abbiesthings @peterparkerspjsuit @mitchiesdungeon @theeerealpunkin @kaitlynw011 @bookoffracturedghosts @beebeomgyu @tooturntashbash @hughugh20 @spideys-gurl @reddeserths @heartbroken-writer @chimchimsugakookies @danny-devitowo @susceptible-but-siriusexual @moonnei @crystalbaby12 @cherry-pieee @girl-obsessed-with-things @sokkas-paintings @yobroitsjayden @boba-king-iroh @chouxfleur @bbecc-a @tayloryorkscurls @getdevils @nightly-daydreamer @beegobuzzbuzz @dxffxdils @mae-musicbitch @fangirlmisanthrope @bipolarbisexualdisaster @taliyahvermillion @unded-bride @kguerrero-23 @cold-deep-water @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @motheroffae @jokenotfunny @yongboxerrr @theolwebshooter @hawkssnugget @yoyoanaria @babyhoneystvles @rjwinterfell @simp-for-corpse @benjaminka @sailor-earth-1 @mmimozaa @zirvel @bombardia @parkchaeyoung1997 @tetsuluvbot @killuaz0ldick @xibrokensunriseix@fuckbuckyyy @luv-buggie @moneybagmara @betabeta0031 @adorkably @angelic-blxssom @littlebabysandboxburritos @thebriarpatch @i-have-arrived-bitch @alexandrium

[bosspigeon]

Carabosse et la Fee des Lilas

Prompt: 💋Drag

Pairing: Adam/Male Detective, Bonus Found Family Vibes~

Words: 5,346

Summary: Tina spends some quality time with Arlo and Unit Bravo as they prepare for Wayhaven's first real Pride festival, Tina torments her best friend and his maybe-boyfriend (as is her god-given right), and Arlo has a big think about his favorite role and what that role allowed him to explore~

CW for references to transmisogyny and implications of past trans/homophobia

Sometimes, Tina wonders if Arlo missed his true calling. His hands are surgeon-steady as he pencils delicate patterns onto Felix’s cheeks, outlining with white eyeliner in preparation to fill them in with bold colors and glitter. Tina almost can’t wait for her turn, even though Felix looks like he’s in real, physical pain with the effort of holding as still as possible. She’s no stranger to that struggle herself.

Neither is she a stranger to Arlo’s forceful, if toothless, threats, overcome as she is by fondness when he growls that he's going to draw a mustache on Felix’s face with permanent marker if he doesn’t stop bloody bouncing.

It’s pretty fun to watch from the outside. Sure, when you first sit down when he’s like this—all sharp and snappish and “stop moving or I’ll chuck you out the window”—it’s hard to keep still, but Arlo’s got this sort of quiet intensity to him when he’s focusing on something that’s oddly meditative. He’s just a soothing presence, really. Like a capybara or something. He’s friend-shaped.

Whatever weird magic it is, it’s definitely catching, because Felix looks less like he’s about to burst, like he did when Arlo was putting down the foundation, and more like he’s enjoying the attention. Tina’s not sure how long it’s going to last, seeing as Felix has given her a run for her money in the “manic energy” department, and he’s nowhere near as caffeinated as she is at any given time, but for the time being, he’s (mostly) still and quiet.

There’s music playing, quiet enough that the broody one (she knows his name, but it seems to bug him when she calls him "the broody one," which is funny, so—) only grumbled about it for a few minutes when Arlo turned it on, and even seems to enjoy sitting close enough to Arlo’s stupidly fancy stereo system to, she guesses, feel the rumble of the bass through the floor. Vampires are weird.

Anyway, it’s Arlo’s usual sad goth boy nonsense, but as quiet as it is, and with its intense instrumentals and rumbling vocals, it’s pleasant background noise more than anything.

Nate (the handsome and charming one, because of course all Arlo’s vampire friends are handsome, so she has to differentiate between them somehow) is rifling through Arlo’s bookshelf like it’s his job, and visibly struggling to pick something to read, because Arlo’s sitting room bookshelf (the one she found at a yard sale three hours away and lashed to the top of her sedan with every single bungee cord she could find at the local hardware store because it was coffin-shaped, for god's sake) is where he keeps all his weirdo occult stuff to, quote, “make people who pop by unannounced leave faster.”

And then there’s the big, handsome, stupidly fit blonde Arlo still won’t call his boyfriend, even though they’re so obvious it’s sickening, and she means that with all the love in her heart. He’s sitting in the armchair by the bookshelf, positioned so he can look like he’s reading one of Arlo’s old music magazines and totally isn’t taking advantage of the perfect line of sight of Arlo perched on the end of his coffee table so he’s not too tall to work on Felix, sitting in a chair from the kitchen. Tina sure hopes he doesn’t think he’s subtle, being a super special vampire secret agent and all.

He seems to notice her eyeing him, at least, and keeps his attention pinned firmly on the magazine, though he is definitely not reading a single word. Nate keeps browsing, the Broody One keeps brooding, Arlo keeps working, and Felix starts to hum. Arlo gives him a sharp look, but it doesn’t seem to be moving his face in any major way, so he just rolls his eyes and keeps tracing pretty patterns onto that unfairly smooth, dark skin. Do vampires do skin care? They probably don’t even need to, and that’s probably one of the reasons people like to villainize them. It always comes down to jealousy, doesn’t it?

She sighs, loudly enough that every eye in the room turns to her, and while she did not expect the sudden attention, she knows she can at least use it to entertain herself. She homes in on Adam, and smiles when she finally looks at the magazine he’s still valiantly pretending to read. There’s a familiar man on the cover, and while she can’t be bothered to remember his name, she grins. “Oh, hey! Arlo, he’s reading the one with the guy who looks like you!”

Arlo doesn’t even look up, but he huffs out a laugh and rolls his eyes again. He’s going to give himself a headache if he keeps that up.

The comment does exactly what she wants it to, which is draw the attention of all the other vampires. Arlo even begrudgingly pulls the pencil away from Felix’s cheek so he can take a look, and he immediately bursts out laughing.

“Arlo!” he exclaims, slapping at Arlo’s knee. “You didn’t tell us you had a twin!”

Nate chuckles (warm and rich and handsome, if a sound can be called handsome) and turns from the shelf to study the magazine curiously himself. Even the Broody One peers over to see, a little smirk curling his permanently-scowling mouth.

“Considering he was born in the sixties, I definitely don’t,” Arlo drawls. “Tina’s been making that joke since we were kids. She’s just happy she’s got an audience who hasn’t heard it twelve times a week since she first saw my old Type O Negative poster.”

“Some jokes just get better with time,” Tina says archly. “Like a fine wine.”

“And some jokes age like milk,” Arlo fires back.

Adam tilts the magazine so he can look for himself, and his dour expression clouds over even more, brows furrowing and mouth twisting. He peers up at Arlo, studying him, then down again.

Got you. “Yeah, you’re right,” Tina says, nodding sagely at him. “Arlo’s much prettier.”

It has exactly the reaction she was hoping for. Arlo drops his eyeliner pencil and makes a strangled noise, glowering at her with his cute freckly cheeks going all red, and Adam, who is a good bit paler than Arlo, goes pink from the crewneck of his just-this-side-of-too-tight tee shirt to his hairline. Tina wants to punch the air as the other vampires snicker at them. Well, except for Nate. Nate’s not a snickerer. He chortles. It’s adorable.

“Speaking of pretty!” Felix crows once they’ve all had a laugh at their fearless leader’s expense. He points to his own face with both hands, dancing in his chair, and Arlo sighs and rolls his eyes again, bending to pick up the dropped pencil. Luckily, the tip isn’t broken, so he can get right back to work, once he’s given the young vampire a moment to get his wiggles out. He settles, sitting on his hands and pursing his lips when Arlo gives him a dry look. He hovers back in with the pencil, and then Felix blurts out, “How’d you get so good at this anyway? Well, I assume you’re good at it. I haven’t seen it yet.”

Arlo doesn’t say anything. He just looks at him, pencil poised, until Felix pinches his mouth shut with a quick little apology. Once Arlo’s satisfied his canvas is actually going to hold still and keep quiet, he gets back to it. “My school was pretty small, especially compared to the bigger-name performing arts schools out there,” he says after a moment of quiet focus, tracing the outline of a heart around one of Felix’s eyes. “Our department didn’t really have a huge budget, and workspace was at a premium too. We didn’t have a lot of time to prepare for performances before someone else had to use the theatre, so we all did our own makeup at once, for the most part. Sometimes we’d help each other out, because we all had our strengths and weaknesses.”

He pulls back the pencil, squinting critically at the heart like it’s not completely perfect. “Demi was the best at laying the groundwork, and at matching colors to our costumes and complexions. Viv was the best at coming up with concepts and making sure we looked like a matching set. Wendi could do insane prosthetics, and was the best at bullying our department head into giving us the money for them. I had the steadiest hands, so I always did the eyes and the details.”

“Was Wendi the one who did your Dracula look?” Tina gasps. “That one was so cool!”

“Dracula?” Felix blurts. Tina doesn’t miss how the others perk up with interest too.

Arlo glares at him, and he shrinks back with a sheepish little grin. “Yeah, we did Dracula, uh… second year, I think? That was when Tilly transferred in and started doing our choreography. She’s the one who got Professor Dacey to let us do less classical stuff and start branching out a bit.” He glances briefly at Tina, staunchly ignoring the way Felix pouts at him for dividing his attention. “And, yeah, Wendi did the prosthetics for that one.”

“She’s got to be magic,” Tina asserts. “She managed to make your sweet, mopey face look so scary.”

Felix and Mason both snicker at that, and Arlo’s mouth goes all lemon-sour pinchy, like it always does when she calls him a sad puppy man, or any variation thereof.

“Take a lap,” Arlo says to Felix. “Don’t touch your face.” He jerks his head at Tina when Felix bolts to his feet and starts zooming around the flat to get out some of his energy. “Your turn, if you’re done being a comedian.”

“I’m never done,” she says with a sunny smile, but she bounces over to take Felix’s place in the chair and closes her eyes serenely so he can start on her makeup.

“And, God, do I know it,” he grumbles under his breath, knowing full well she can hear him, and so can everyone else in the room, too.

“Do you have pictures?” Felix hollers. He’s dipped into Arlo’s studio, and he’s making no secret of rifling through the desk in there, drawers slamming and paper rustling.

Arlo tips his head back so when he sighs, loud and dramatically long-suffering, he’s not blowing his breath right in Tina’s face. She appreciates the gesture. “Bottom right drawer,” he calls back, resignation thick in his voice. Given how long he’s been putting up with Tina—and Felix might just be Tina’s second platonic soulmate (Arlo, of course, being the first)—he already knows that keeping quiet is just prolonging the inevitable. Tina opens her eyes briefly to see Felix come sailing out of the studio with a thick leather-bound album held triumphantly over his head.

“Oh, I haven’t seen that in years!” she coos happily.

Arlo bops her on the forehead pointedly with a sponge covered in foundation, and she closes her eyes obediently.

She hears Arlo’s antique sofa creak as Felix plops down onto it, rifling through the plastic pages. “Aw,” he whines, “no baby pictures?”

“I can’t imagine him ever being a baby,” Mason snorts, and he sounds closer than he was before. Tina knows better than to open her eyes while Arlo’s in the zone, though. He’ll bop her with something less soft than a sponge next time. “I figured he’s just always been a giant.”

Felix laughs, high and chiming. “No wonder Agent Priestley’s always so sour, then,” he says. Tina giggles, and it becomes an inelegant snort when Arlo bops her again on the nose.

“Ask Rebecca if you want to see my baby pictures,” Arlo mutters blandly, and Tina can feel the weight of his attention. “I doubt she has many after age two, and the ones before I’ve barely seen.”

Tina’s not a super-special supernatural secret agent, but she tries with all her might to will someone to change the subject before things get weird. Now’s as good a time as any to learn telepathy.

Felix, heart of her heart, interrupts what’s shaping up to be a real prize winner of an awkward silence with a loud gasp. “Woah!” he exclaims, and pages crinkle as he presumably holds up the book for Arlo to see. “Who’s this? Did you do her makeup too?”

Arlo’s hair rustles as he turns his head away from her, and then the hand on her cheek freezes. Tension radiates through every inch of his body, practically leaching into hers. She cautiously opens one eye, and sees Arlo sitting up impeccably straight, stiff as a board and staring at Felix like a deer in the headlights. He swallows so hard she can see his throat move. “Um,” he says, stilted and strange. “Yeah. I did.”

Tina opens both eyes and squints at the photo album. Oh.

Felix looks at the sudden strain in the way Arlo is sitting, the tightness of his posture, and looks quizzically down at the picture again.

Tina remembers that performance. She remembers Arlo dancing (ha) around the subject when she asked him teasingly if he was going to be playing the prince, who was the lead, was he excited to kiss a pretty girl?

She can’t remember the character’s name, not so many years after the fact, especially since they were all weird classical nonsense, either Latin or French or some mishmash of the two. But she remembers the costume. She remembers waiting with bated breath to see Arlo onstage, to stand and scream and cheer obnoxiously loud in support of her best friend. She shot to her feet the second she saw his obvious silhouette rise from a feather-bedecked black chariot, head and shoulders taller than anyone else onstage. The music swelled, lightning flashed, and then when the spotlight hit him, she was so stunned she plopped right back into her seat with her jaw on the floor.

Arlo’s always been one of those guys that straddled the line between pretty and handsome. Long, lustrous hair and eyelashes she would kill for, cheekbones that could kill, a defined jaw, a proud nose, and intense eyes she could only call sultry—if she hadn’t known him since they were both weird, gawky brats, she’d probably be half in love with him before figuring out she wasn’t his cup of tea. But seeing him onstage was always an adventure. He threw himself into whatever character he played, put his everything into them, from the costume to the makeup to the performance. He just became the character, and in a way that was so very Arlo, all that intensity and focus channeled into an act that completely stole the show, in Tina’s humble and completely unbiased opinion.

Carabosse! That was her name!

Carabosse was no different.

Arlo’s makeup was flawless, ghost-white foundation giving him intense Morticia Addams vibes, contouring that made his cheekbones look absolutely unreal, bold black (or maybe really dark purple?) lipstick and shiny, smoky eyeshadow that made him look ethereal and wicked, with a daggerpoint cat-eye that she spent an hour begging him to teach her after the show. When he turned his head in a sharp, birdlike motion to look down his nose at the dancers playing the King and Queen, she gasped at the way his hair rippled down his back, shiny-black and woven with actual feathers that trailed back from the ornate metal circlet resting on his brow like a bird’s crest. The costume was breathtaking, too, a tightly corseted bodice and a high collar, a dramatically billowing skirt and trailing, feathered sleeves that flared like wings whenever he moved.

And the way he moved! Arlo’s dancing changed with every role, whatever he felt would suit the character. One of her favorites was always his Hans-Peter (she had a soft spot for that one, and had ever since she was little—one of the first Christmas gifts her stepmom had ever given her was little storybook version of The Nutcracker that came with a CD) because his dancing was so stiff and stridently mechanical, he looked like a real toy soldier come to life. But his villains moved with a slinking, predatory prowl she’d only ever seen in monster movies, and never in something like a ballet. His Carabosse was as beautiful as she was terrifying, and it was incredible to watch. She wanted to fling herself at him after the show and babble at him endlessly like she always did, but she spent a solid minute staring at him slack-jawed, until he shifted awkwardly and looked down, and the confident intimidation of the Wicked Fairy sloughed away to reveal Arlo underneath.

He almost melted into the floor with relief when she finally startled to babble.

She puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes, and he takes a slow, deep breath, offering Felix a strained smile. “Take a closer look, mate,” he says quietly.

Felix does. He looks up and squints at Arlo, and then back down at the photo. Tina has to bite her lip so she doesn’t laugh when he looks over at Adam, still holding the magazine with that metal singer that kind of looks like Arlo on it, and then back at Arlo. His mouth drops open into a little o, and he shoots to his feet and shouts, “No way!”

Mason was allowed his name back briefly, but he goes right back to Broody One when he grimaces at Felix and slinks pettishly back to his corner.

Arlo’s shoulders are practically around his ears, but he tries to keep smiling. “Yeah. Sleeping Beauty. Fourth year. I was the Wicked Fairy.”

“He was amazing,” Tina declares, shoulders back and chin tipped up challengingly. “The costume was insane, but the way he played her was absolutely, ridiculously badass.”

“You look awesome!” Felix blurts, still gawking down at the photo. He flips to the next page, and squeaks happily when he finds more pictures, from different angles, showing off the costume, the way Arlo loomed over the other dancers, the way he commanded the stage. Tina should really find out who took the pictures and send them her thanks, because they really put in the work. “Your makeup, your dress, your hair! How’d you even do that?”

Arlo laughs, and it sounds so utterly relieved, Tina’s heart breaks a little. Arlo’s always been sensitive, and for someone who dresses and holds himself the way he does, he worries more than he lets on what people think of him. Especially people he cares about. She squeezes his shoulder again, and he bites his lip when he glances back at her and smiles hesitantly.

“A lot of wire, and enough hairspray to choke a bloody cow,” he says, twisting around and slinging his long legs over the coffee table so he can face the sofa. “I think we bought every bag of black feathers the craft store had, and then spent an entire weekend painting them with this stupidly expensive embossing powder. We had to get, like, ten pots of the stuff, because the craft store only had pots the size of a quarter.”

“I admire your dedication,” Nate says pleasantly, strolling over to peer over Arlo’s shoulder. They tighten just a bit before relaxing slowly. “That costuming is superb. I’ve seen professional productions that weren’t half so detailed.”

“That would be Viv’s work,” Arlo laughs, looking down at the pictures fondly. “She took whatever cheap garbage the department had for us, raided the nearest clearance fabric rack, and worked her magic. The employees at that little craft store loved and hated us in equal measure.”

Arlo is still tense, but he’s loosening up little by little, and with him Tina does too. The easy camaraderie is soothing, and she knows how much Arlo cares about his vampire friends, so it’s got to be a huge weight off his shoulders to be able to let his guard down around them. He deserves that. He deserves to be able to be himself.

Adam standing up draws Arlo’s attention like nothing else could, and he freezes like a startled rabbit again looking up at the burly blonde vampire as he approaches the sofa. He looks a split second from bolting. Tina sits up straighter and gives Adam her most daring look, squaring her shoulders to make it perfectly clear she's ready to fight the second he opens his mouth. She’ll definitely lose, sure, but she’ll make as much trouble as she can before she goes down.

He reaches out, his hand hesitating before it touches the album’s glossy page, and he looks up at Arlo with a questioning tilt to his brows. Arlo looks like he’s barely breathing, but he nods, and Adam slips one of the pictures from its sleeve. He straightens his spine, shoulders back, holding the photo and studying it carefully. His face is impossible to read, about as expressive as a bloody brick wall. Tina’s vibrating with nervous energy. She’ll fight a vampire, though. She will.

When Adam does finally speak, his voice comes out so softly Tina almost doesn’t hear it over the adrenaline rushing through her. “You look… striking.”

Striking. Oh my god.

She wants to laugh. They’re ridiculous.

“Thanks,” Arlo chokes out, his cheeks and ears going red this time.

Oh my god. Tina covers her mouth with both hands. Arlo glowers at her. It’s a lot less threatening when he’s blushing like that. “I didn’t say anything,” she mumbles against her palms.

“Your face,” he hisses, and she yelps.

“Oh! Shit!” She pulls her hands away, and he grabs her by the chin to check the damage with a click of his tongue.

Tina thought things would get better once Arlo actually kissed the man (and maybe got a leg over, but that’s only her business when she can finally get Arlo to actually talk about if the big, beefy Adonis is as missionary-with-the-lights-off as he looks) but at least they’re not just staring longingly at each other from across the room and then getting all sad about it anymore . Thankfully, Felix seems to be an old hand at clearing up the weird tension between the two of them, chiming in a delighted, “I’ve never seen you look so scary!” as he rifles through all the pictures from the Sleeping Beauty show. “I mean, you’re pretty scary when you go all furry, but also, you sort of just look like a big lanky puppy, because it’s just you, you know? This is someone else! Who is she! She's so cool!”

Arlo sighs and turns around to fix whatever Tina’s ruined with her foundation, and throws himself back into dolling her up. Thankfully, the actual festival’s not for a while yet. She complained about the unnecessarily early start when Arlo suggested the time, but now she’s glad he’s such a persnickety prick about scheduling. “I had a lot of fun with it,” he admits, shrugging his shoulders. “The original script notes said to get, y’know, sort of silly with it, but I wasn’t a big fan of that angle for a character like her. Yeah, I wanted to be campy, but not in the way…” He purses his lips. “Okay, well, Nate probably knows this, but a lot of classical ballets that have a female villains do this thing with them that I hate.” He frowns deeply, patting at Tina’s chin with gentle ferocity. “ An evil female character is supposed to be sort of… sort of a cautionary tale, I guess? Like your typical bitter spinster crone, the old hag, or the wicked stepsisters, things like that. So they’ll specifically cast a male dancer and put them in bright, gaudy facepaint and garish costumes that are supposed to be cartoonish and ugly, that you're supposed to find funny, to show you that this character is bad because she’s indelicate and mannish, and that’s why she’s evil.”

His mouth twists around the words, and he looks up, back at the vampires, leaving Tina a moment to really appreciate that Arlo’s comfortable enough with them to do what he’s only ever really done with her—which is ramble about something he’s passionate about. It’s always fun to watch. He turns back to her, and she just wishes his hands weren’t occupied, because he’s a big hand-talker otherwise. “I got the role because the professor thought it would be funny to stick me in a role like that, being so tall and, y’know,” he gestures vaguely to his faded old band tee and dark jeans, the thick leather cuff around his wrist. Tina doesn’t see what he really means, seeing as he looks cozy and content right now, but she gets what he’s going for. “He was expecting me to be awkward about it. The big, tough guy doing drag as the creepy crone caricature.” He huffs. “I talked with Demi about it, and we decided to say fuck that.” He sits up straighter, tilts up his chin, and looks down his nose at Tina.

She peers up at him, wide-eyed, and suddenly wonders if this is how Demi felt, playing Aurora when Carabosse looked down her nose at her like an insect under her heel.

“I thought Carabosse deserved better,” Arlo says fiercely. “If I was going to be a villain, I was going to be a damned good villain. I was going to tower over all the delicate, dainty little princesses and fairies, and I was going to be fierce. Professor Dacey wanted Aurora, and Candide, and Florine to be the epitome of sweet, delicate femininity, the ideal damsel in any classical show. Carabosse is supposed to be the complete opposite. You’re supposed to root against her, not want to be her. She’s a threat to the idea of womanhood, of the ideal feminine. She’s bold and selfish and she takes what she wants. I leaned into that. I even danced en pointe for parts of it, even though Carabosse isn't supposed to, and between the rehearsals and the actual performance, I thought my feet were gonna fall off, but it was worth it.”

Arlo smiles, and Tina is thrilled by the wickedness of it. She thinks she even sees just a hint of fang. Arlo’s been so careful about showing his teeth, ever since he told her what happened to him, why he disappeared for so long, so it's somehow special for him to feel like he can show her even a hint of what he’s become.

“Professor Dacey was pissed, afterwards, of course,” Arlo laughs, but there’s an edge to it. He seems to shrink. From Arlo to Carabosse to Arlo again. He looks down at his hands as they work on Tina more than at her face. “He didn’t, y’know, say anything he could have gotten fired over, but he did rail about being left out of planning and the budget and all that rot. Got even madder when Demi pointed out we’d spent our own money on the costumes. I think if he was tall enough to look down on me, he would have.” He snorts, a bitter curl to his mouth. Tina thinks of it painted bold, dark purple, thinks of how it would look with those teeth behind it. She wonders if he’d let her do his makeup for the festival. She’s not nearly as good at details as he is, but she’s no slouch either.

“You should have let me put raw fish in his hubcaps,” Tina mutters, just to make Arlo laugh. It works, and she beams at him.

“Would have been a waste of fish,” he mumbles, sucking his teeth. He finally picks up a bright eyeshadow palette and starts waffling over colors. He’s quiet while he deliberates, but after a while, he sighs. “I liked being Carabosse,” he says, like it’s a secret. Like he’s trying very hard not to be ashamed.

“I wish I could have seen it,” Adam says, almost dreamily. Tina could scream. “I— We could have, I mean. All of us. In solidarity.”

“Smooth,” Felix whispers.

“I’m sure it was a phenomenal performance,” Nate adds helpfully. He’s taken the album from Felix to flip through to some of Arlo’s other shows. “The passion you have for your characters shines through in just photos. It’s quite impressive.”

“You should have gone pro,” Tina mutters. “You’d be a household name by now.”

Arlo snorts and bops her with the brush. How many bops is that now? She’s certainly on a roll today. “And who’d keep you in line back here?” he teases.

Tina squints up at him and sticks out her tongue. “Like you’ve ever even tried to keep me in line, you big softie. You love the chaos, just admit it.”

“I’ll admit you to the hospital when you do something stupid and get yourself hurt again, how about that?”

They bicker like children back and forth while Arlo finishes her makeup, a wash of pink, purple, and blue eyeshadow and matching lipstick, overlaid with a lustrous sparkle to her cheekbones and a cute little black heart-shaped beauty mark under one eye. Felix gets a bi flag heart to match her eyeshadow around one eye, and then the rest is a sort of confetti splash of sparkly stars and hearts in every color. Even Nate goes for the bi eyeshadow (Bi-shadow? She should have been saying that this whole time!), making him, Tina, and Felix a matching set, and Mason consents to a very simple pan flag on his cheek. Tina suspects Adam only allows the eyeshadow treatment so he can have Arlo cup his face all tenderly, but she keeps the thought (mostly) to herself. He looks good in pastels, she thinks when she sees the finished blue, pink, and white.

Arlo draws a little heart under his eye too. The heart in Tina's chest almost explodes with warmth.

And then Arlo disappears into the bathroom, leaving the rest of them to entertain themselves while he gets ready on his own. They go through the album some more, and Tina tells them all about her favorite shows, because she went to every single one she could manage, and got Arlo’s school friends to send her videos of the ones she couldn’t. Tina Poname is Arlo Priestley’s number one fan, and that will never change. Not even now that she's got some competition.

When Arlo comes out of the bathroom, they all look up in sync, and he stands there, shifting anxiously from foot to foot under the attention, and lifts his hands in a stilted shrug. “So?” he asks, smiling nervously. He’s changed clothes, too. Tight pants, big boots, a mesh-sleeved black shirt underneath his patch-and-pin-covered denim vest. His wrists jingle with chunky bracelets, and his hair is braided neatly over one shoulder. But his makeup is what really steals the show. That insanely sharp cat-eye, of course, but one eye is done up in blue, pink, and white, and the other in yellow, white, purple, and black. He smiles timidly. “I, uh, I couldn’t really decide on just one,” he says, sticking his gloved hands into the pockets of his vest. “I’m, um, I’m not sure which one’s really right for me yet, I guess?” He shrugs again, and Tina watches delightedly as Adam stands up slowly, his eyes on Arlo with such an awed intensity she wonders if he even remembers there’s other people in the room. Arlo keeps babbling as he approaches, the words tumbling nervously from his black-painted lips. “I sort of like matching with you, Adam, and I know they’re both fine, but I—”

Adam grabs him by the lapels of his jacket, yanks him down to his level, and silences him with a kiss. Tina throws her arms up in the air with an impulsive shriek of “WOO!” that Felix echoes even louder. They high-five over Mason’s head, and he looks like he wants to throw them both out the window. Nate sits by with a pleasant little smile, which only fades when he takes note of the clock.

Adam and Arlo are still kissing, Arlo’s hands cupped around the vampire’s cheeks and Adam clinging to his vest like he'll drown if he lets go. Tina thinks she might see a hint of tongue when Nate loudly clears his throat.

They break apart with an indecent smacking noise, and Tina yelps out a sharp laugh when she sees Arlo’s black lipstick smeared all around Adam’s mouth.

Nate crosses his arms and smiles dryly at them. “Why don’t you two go fix your faces,” he suggests. “The rest of us will make sure the car is packed for the festival.”

“Um, yes. You— We—” Arlo fumbles for a bit, touching his smeared lips, his eyes just a bit dazed. He and Adam look at each other, and then flee for the bathroom together.

Tina’s never been more excited for a festival in her life.

[animensfw-smut]

Dirty minded! Shinso x Bad girl! Innocent! Reader

Reader's quirk: Telekinesis.

Reader and Shinso have known each other since the start of the year. Also, when doing innocent readers, I'm gonna write the lemon part mostly in third pov because it's easier.

WARNINGS: NSFW, 18+, Quirk play

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*(y/n)'s pov*

I sighed gazing up at the (whatever colour ceiling you think Shinso has) ceiling. My blouse, like normal, had the top button undone, my tie loosened and my blazer on the floor.

"You gonna do your homework or not?" I rolled my eyes, looking at Shinso,

"Do i look like the type of person who does the homework?" It was his turn to sigh,

"I don't even know how you got into the hero course..." A smirk crept up my face,

"Envy me Shinso~" He rolled his eyes,

"Shut up. Don't you need to get changed? I don't want your school clothes dirtying my bed."

"Mm." I got up and walked to his drawers, getting out one of his t-shirts and one of his boxers.

"Yeah, yeah, make yourself at home and steal my clothes to wear again. Why do you never bring your own clothes when i invite you over?"

"Maybe because your clothes are more comfortable. Now get out for a minute." Shinso shook his head before walking out of his room.  

I removed my skirt and unbuttoned my blouse, about to change into the shirt when the door opened and Shinso walked in. I gave him a glare,

"Hey!" Shinso gave a lazy smirk,

"It's been a minute." I pouted,

"I hate you." Then, my movements stopped. Damn, he used his quirk. He walked towards me, and i used my telekinesis to whack a notebook at the back of his head.

"Ouch..." Inwardly, i giggled, 'Ha serves you right.' I used the pen to poke myself hardly, causing me to snap out of the daze.

"Shinso, you bastarrrdddd!" I yelled, lunging at him. I threw myself on him , tackling him to the bed. He flipped us over,

"I don't think i like the idea of you topping." Shinso lowered his mouth to my ear,

"I want to destroy you~" He whispered.

"Eh?! Come on then! Fight me here and now, I'm gonna win!" (Alright, reader actually gives me Inosuke vibes here...) Shinso chuckled, shaking his head,

"I'll show you a new form of fighting."  

*Third pov*

His soft lips connected with (y/n)'s lips. (y/n) took it as a challenge when Shinso bit her lip and entered her mouth.  

"Mm...!" Her tongue battled against his, not willing to give him the satisfaction of winning. Parting from the kiss, Shinso reached behind her to unhook her bra, cupping her breasts and fondling with them. (y/n) moaned, her hands gripping the bedsheets,

"W-What are you d-doing?" Shinso smirked,

"You're losing the battle here (y/n)~" One of his hands palmed her crotch, the dampness of her panties making Shinso groan,

"Damn, you're so wet..." His fingers prodded her entrance through the fabric before moving her panties to the side. He sunk his fingers into her heat, his dark purple eyes focusing on the way her cunt tightened around his fingers.  

"Sh-Shinso..." Her eyes closed when he dipped his tongue inside her. Shinso's tongue thrusted inside her, his fingers pushing into her at the same time. (y/n)'s hips involuntarily ground against Shinso's mouth, wanting to feel more of the pleasure. He curled his fingers, and she released, her mind blank. Slurping noises filled the room as Shinso sucked her pussy,

"A-Ah, n-no more, Sh-Shinso...! I-It feels s-so weird..." (y/n) panted. She tried to even out her breathing, but Shinso had taken off his clothes, the tip of his cock leaking precum.

"(y/n)~ We'll see who's better at fighting in bed~"  

"O-Obviously me!" Shinso slid his cock inside of her, wrapping her legs around his waist.

"Fuck... You feel so good around my cock..." With each thrust, the headboard hit the wall, and (y/n)'s breasts bounced. He lowered his mouth to her breast, taking a nipple into his mouth. (y/n) gripped his purple hair, her hips bucking.

*(y/n)'s pov*

This feels so good... But i can't let him take advantage in this fight!

I let out a breathy moan, wrapping my legs tighter around his waist. With my hands pushing on his shoulders, i flipped us over, straddling him.

"I-I'm gonna win!!!" I declared, bouncing on his member. Shinso let out a chuckle, admiring the way my breasts would move whenever i bounced on him,

"I don't mind the view~" His hands gripped my hips with force,

"But I'm the one who's on top." He flipped us over again, ramming into me. His thick cock rubbed the right spots inside of me.

My nails dug into his arms, my back arching,

"Sh-Shinso...!" I whimpered. Skin slapping against skin was all that reached my ear, his heavy breathing making my mind go blank. I wasn't able to form coherent words, my moans covering them. Shinso towered over me, his hands on either side of my head, caging me. His hips thrusted up, his length slamming into me.

"I-It's so f-full..." My eyes rolled to the back of my head at the feeling. His thrusts sped up and i released a clear liquid. He pulled out, releasing all over me.  

I huffed,

"Wh-What the hell was that, Shinso?!" I pouted when he ruffled my hair, leaning down to kiss me.

"I love it when your dripping pussy clenches around my dick~" He muttered near my lips. He gathered up some of the liquid on my stomach, holding out his fingers for me,

"Suck." I shook my head. Shinso smirked,

"If you suck on my fingers, you'll win~" I brought his fingers in my mouth, swirling my tongue around his fingers like a lollipop and sucking on them.  

"Good girl." I frowned,

"No, I'm not good."

"You're good... For me."

"Tcchhhhhh." He used the tissue on his bedside table to clean me up before cuddling me.

[slasherfilth]

You Are What You Eat - Chapter One (Thomas Hewitt x Reader)

You hum along to the chorus of the song blasting from your radio as you drive along the seemingly endless dirt road. Your eyes were squinting now and again to try and see through all the dust your car was kicking up as you made your way down to your Fathers old property. It had been at least a decade since you had seen it; since you'd experienced dirt roads and the sticky feeling of sweat dripping from your forehead in the sweltering Texas sun. You'd moved out of the home a long time ago, eager to leave the backwash town of Fuller and onto something greater as you had once told your father. He'd been supportive in the decision but always said you would come back to the quiet life. Like your privacy too much to be livin' in those tiny places with too many people. You had rolled your eyes naturally, adamant that you would never miss this place once you made it out. But here you were. You were driving along the same dirt road from your childhood, surprisingly eager to be away from the hustle and bustle of city life. He had been right. A small smirk curled on your lips as you thought that. He'd have a field day if you'd ever managed to tell him that. However, a small pang of sadness hit you just as quickly as the thought came. That's the main reason your back. You couldn't tell him. The only reason you could afford to move back out was because of the inheritance and a house already paid into your name. A small sigh left your lips as you tried to focus on the music once more, at this point too exhausted to cry about it anymore.

It wasn't long until you finally pulled into the old house. A smile bloomed on your face as you took in the sight of the place you once called home. Memories of you running up the steps to the patio in a hurry from school, ready to blurt out your day to your parents. A simple rope and plank swing still hanging from the big sturdy tree that sat outside the front of the house. Remembering how you would read books from dawn till dusk under the cool shade of the tree as you grew older. With a huff of effort, you jumped out of the car, eager to stretch your legs after hours of driving. And with that you began to walk towards the all too familiar house, ready to start your new life. You could only hope you enjoyed it more than your last one.

Making your way inside you couldn't help but appreciate how cute your home really was. A housewife's dream really. Sky blue the outside, and a mix of light colours painting the interior. Big white windows over the walls, letting in natural light that bounced off the wooden furniture beautifully. You'd been fortunate. Dad had left everything to you. Which you'd appreciated since all you had yourself was a small couch, TV and a washing machine. This would be a much different experience. Humming, you made your way around the house, opening windows to let light and air in. Hoping to remove the musty smell that had built up over time. Once you finished your task, you sat down on the dining room table, taking it all in. You felt lighter already. The sadness of why you now have all of this was still there, but you pushed it away to think of the better opportunities. You could do so much more here—no one to tell you what to do or what to make. A broad grin enveloped your lips as you thought of that. And with that lovely thought, you made your way back to the car. You were initially going to wait before heading to the old business, give yourself time to adjust before setting to work. But the hardworking mentality of a country upbringing wouldn't let you. There was so much to be done, and you were more than a little excited.

 _____________________________________________________________

 By the time you got to town it was already in the evening, but you were too eager to take a look at the old bakery and see how much work is needed to start up again. You promised yourself you wouldn't stay long, that you could come back tomorrow and begin the real work. Still, for now, you just wanted to bask in the idea of finally being able to live your dream of having your own bakery. You hoped it would all work out. Hoped the locals remembered how good the bakery once was and feel the need to come to inspect again when word got out it was open once more. It wouldn't take long. Word travelled like wildfire through these parts. And with that, you wondered how long it would take for people to realise there was a new face in town. Not too long, you hoped. You were not always the most social person, but you would still like to make friends and have tea sometimes. Maybe you would even find that once special guy out there. You almost laughed at the thought. How many times your mother had asked about boys in your life. When were you gonna get yourself a man? You ain't gonna be bringing back one of those city boys are ya? You'll need a country boy, someone who can work and take care of you. At one time, it had made you laugh. How were you going to find a country boy in the city? But she had been right in the long run. Them boys had never tickled your fancy much. Always focused on their looks, carrying around combs and swaggering around all the ladies, acting smooth. You saw right through it all.

None of them would be able to handle a good day's work. Too weak to do some heavy lifting, no matter how much they bragged and too vain to get a bit dirty to accomplish something. You wrinkled your nose. You'd be lying to yourself if you said you hadn't fantasied about a tall, muscled up, hardworking family man taking you for a spin when you were planning your new life out here. Someone that would come along and just sweep you off your feet with one hand and help you around the house and bakery with the other. Another laugh left you; good luck, girlie. How about you make it through setting up and living here before you start fantasying about all that jazz.

As you were lost in your own thoughts, you checked around the small joint, happy to find big working ovens, a register, walk-in cooler and massive pantry. It had definitely been revamped since the last time you were here which made you happy. A lot less work than what you were expecting. A simple clean down and electricity organising and it would all be good to go. You would be open by the end of the week with any luck. A hum of appreciation left you as you walked back out to your car. Thinking of some recipes, you thought the locals would like. Maybe you should try to catch up with that old meat business. See if you could strike up a deal for some meat pies. And with that you drove home, giddy about what the next few days would bring.

 _______________________________________________________________

You were in the back, kneading some dough for a new apple pie recipe you had been dying to try. After finding an apple tree at the end of your yard growing some beautiful juice fruits, you'd spent some time trying to perfect a recipe. Today you were eager to make it and offer some free samples to see if the locals would like it as well, maybe it could be a signature dish in your cosy little bakery. You'd been here for a few weeks by now, settling in nicely to your new house and property. And even happier with the bakery opening the week prior. You had been quite busy that day, everyone seemed to have noticed the work you'd been doing there. Maybe the few brief conversations you'd had when visiting stores had managed to get the word around enough for people to be interested. You smiled as you went to grab the rolling pin however paused as you heard the faint jingle of bells, alerting you to someone's presences. Putting on a big smile, you dusted the flour off of your hands onto the lavender apron you donned making your way to the front. You found an older lady waiting in a lovely floral dress, thick glasses perched on her nose. She immediately gave you a loving grandmother vibe that you adored instantly.

"Good morning, Ma'am. What can I get 'cha?" You placed your hands on your hips and turned to the lady.

"Morning, Darlin'. I just wanted to come check out this old place. Haven't seen it so busy since ol' Danny passed, rest his soul." You smiled gently, feeling an odd tug at your heart. No one had mentioned your father at all since this place had opened. You were relieved but also sad in away. You would have hoped people remembered him a bit more.

"Well thank you, Ma'am. I'm trying my best to continue in his likeness. I'm (Y/N), Danny's daughter. I recently moved out into his old place." You extended a hand, feeling your cheeks heat up as her eyes widened briefly, giving you a once over from head to toe before taking your hand in a soft but firm handshake.

"Well, I'll be darned. Who knew someone like him could raise such a good-looking young lady? I'm Luda Mae. I'm on the property next to yours with the Hewitt family. Got Charlie, Monty and my boy, Thomas out there." A smile flashed on your face. You had seen the old white house briefly before and wondered if anyone was even there anymore. The idea of having neighbours was a delightful one.

"Pleasure to meet you, Luda Mae. It's nice to know I'm not the only one all the way out there. How about I get you some coffee and cakes, I'd love to hear a little about the town and yourself." You decided to be a bit more forward than usual. This woman just made you feel comfortable, and you were interested in who exactly was staying near you. A wide smile adorned the older woman face.

"Well, I'd love that darlin'. White with two sugars, please. And I'll like to try that lemon tart you've got in there. Haven't had a good one in a long time since this place shut down." Joy filled you as you nodded and set to work, making double for yourself as you went to sit down with her.

"I hope it's just as good as you remember." The two of you seemed to get along great, the conversation flowed smoothly as you explained why you came back out and your ideas for the business in the future. How you had gone to culinary school in order to start your own little bakery and how excited you were to share it with people here. The two of you exchanged recipes, and Luda let you in on what local flavours and harvests were available at different times of the year. She also told you about her family, the town's history since you left and odd bits and pieces that came to mind. In between the conversation, you would have to get up to serve some people, but she seemed to enjoy the talk and food which made you happy. No one had been incredibly rude or anything here, but this was the first time someone had shown you that good old country friendliness you remembered so fondly from your childhood.

"Yeah, is a shame the old slaughterhouse shut down, would have been great to have some meat pies around this place." That piqued your interest.

"Oh? I hadn't realised it shut down. I was thinking about trying to get some meat just for that. Well darn, I'll have to think of something else now. Will be too expensive to import for now." A small frown tugged at the edge of your lips. Luda Mae clicked her tongue but smiled.

"No worries dear, I'm sure you will figure something out. If you're ever in desperate need for something you just us know. Us Hewitts aren't the richest folk around, but we're the most generous if you can look past all that ridiculous talk." You kept a smile on your face as you took in Luda's small rant, slightly worried about what she could mean. Where they not well-liked amongst the community? Luda Mae looked like a typical town grandmother though. It was very strange to you. But you didn't wish to comment as you could already tell it was a sore spot. Instead, you nodded and thanked her profusely for her offer, offering a hug as she stood tidying up the plates and cups.

"Oh, don't worry about that I'll handle it. It was lovely to meet you, Ms Hewitt, you can come around anytime for a good chat. Feel free to bring the family too." She smiled wide at that and nodded at you while you gathered up the dishes quickly.

"Will do dear, you take care now. I'll be back." You move to the back with a warm feeling, dropping the dishes next to the sink. Turning you look back at the pie you were initially making before you had gotten interrupted—thoughts of Luda Mae's rant filling your mind. From what you gathered, they weren't the most well off and were considered outcasts even in this small town. You frown. You wondered why. But shaking your head, you turn back to work. You decided you would make up for the town's ridicule and begin making small goodies for the family. You're sure she would be appreciative. She also said she had a son, you wondered how old he was. Maybe a teenager? Perhaps he would like sweets as well.

_______________________________________________________________

So I’ve kind of been lurking around my favourite slashers for awhile and I love everyones stories so much. And now I feel confident adding my own little peices. I’m sure you can guess where the story is going from the clues and I hope you can see which amazingly gruesome muscial this is derived from. Tell me what you think and if you guys like it, I’ll be sure to bring that next chapter with lots of our amazing beefy boi. 

[tema-makes-art-sometimes]

002 for gercanmano please?

002 | send me a ship and I will tell you:

GerCanMano

when I started shipping it.

Maybe a year to two years ago? It’s hard to say I can’t really remember. I don’t know what sparked it, but either way I know it started with my friend Lemon. Either we were doing things with the BFT and I had made a joke about baby BFT with Romano, Germany and Canada and it just developed discussions from there. Or it was me struggling between the three proponent ships and Lemon being like ‘why don’t you just make them a poly’ and like sun coming out from behind the clouds it finally dawned on me by the power of citrus. Either way it was something I kept messing with, and the more I talked about it the more people hopped on board with me. We’re still just a raft in a sea of ships but I made this baby and I’m proud of it.

I will say I have had a lot of people talk to me like I made it, and while I do want to take some credit cause I put a lot of time into them, I have heard it used to be a ship back in the old hetalia days. But I haven’t found any old fanworks of it. And trust me I scoured every fic and art site I could think of. Maybe it was something only seen in RP groups so it never got published fic or art but I crave content for it so if it was originally a thing and there’s content around let me know please I don’t wanna take credit for it fully but I have not found another person who shipped it before they talked to me.

my thoughts:

Literally some of the only serotonin I get in these trying times. I love them so much they make me so happy. An unbelievably strong power house trio who could do damn near about anything together. They have it all.

I could go on for hours about small scenarios or aus with them. Like I’m a multi-shipper but fuck man they’re my OTP. I can and do ship other things with them, but man they make me melt with joy.

I made a playlist for it, I’m still building it but I like ti so far. I wish I could find more three person love songs but for now I have songs for each of the three lads, and the three ships that make up it, so it works! Might change some of them but I like what I have so far!

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLC4nWN-9zrnEOeLgihkaqQOpPO6nEnc81

Germany and Romano: A Lovely Night and If I Could Tell Her

Romano and Canada: Best Worst Mistake

Canada and Germany: Guy That I’d Kind of Be Into

Germany General: When He Sees Me and Little Miss Perfect (President Perfect)

Romano General: I Won’t Say I’m in Love (so original I know)

Canada General: Would You Be So Kind? and Piece of Art

What makes me happy about them:

Literally everything. Their characters, the dynamics, the growth they create together. They may not work in every story of mine but when they work they really work. They push each member of the ship to grow as a person. Germany finding support he may not have originally had, Canada finding the confidence and support in a group that won’t forget him, Romano finally feeling safe enough to open up to others in a way he didn’t feel safe doing before. It’s just the good fucking food. You can put it in different settings and it just works, they’re able to play off one another in a really great way and pull them out of their comfort zones in ways that other ships don’t hit me as hard with.

What makes me sad about them:

That I am literally one of the only people who makes content for it. I have scoured the internet I can’t find anything, ANYTHING. And often I cannot get people to follow me on it, I’ve been getting more people on board slowly but surely but STILL-- That or they really try to push the whole ‘i ship it with (ship thats similar but with one of the brothers swapped out for the other)’ on me when I’m talking about it and I’m just like. I asked for GerCanMano I didn’t ask for your opinion. I’ve thought about the other ship conbo’s with their other brothers, I just like this one the best.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me:

When this ship is treated as a lesser to other ships around the three characters. People going like well I think it would be better if it was ‘swaps one of the brothers out for the other’ but that’s not the point. Also this is a general problem I have with Germano/GerCan as well but people making it all about their family’s or brothers reactions and how it effects their brothers instead of their relationship. ESPECIALLY between Romano and Italy.

It’s almost always a cheating on their ‘true love’ or some sort of affair fic and it doesn’t focus on their love and living together and more about them bouncing around to avoid getting caught and I just don’t care enough. I just want to see them in a loving happy relationship, and interacting with one another. Prussia, America’s and ESPECIALLY Italy’s reactions don’t matter to me. When it comes to say GerIta fics, there are a few that address Romano’s feelings toward Italy’s relationship, but not all of them. Hell some of them don’t have a mention or hair of Romano, but when the position is reversed with Germano suddenly even if he’s not in the fic it’s all about how Italy feels about it or how it effects him or hiding it from him.

I dont want to watch Germany go back and forth about which Italy brother he likes while dating both. It’s one just not in character and two its uncomfortable. I read this fic for the gercanmano Im not here to hear that Germany’s cheating on and warring with his feelings toward Italy or Canada sleeping around behind Prussia’s back. It’s boring and I’m tired of reading it. I’m digging into specifics of the three component ships cause there are no fanfics of GerCanMano so I can’t talk about what annoys in their base fics.

I had like one person write GerCanMano into their RusPrus fic, which was cool. but then they were a nazi apologist. So I can’t exactly read it anymore. I have nothing else to compare to but the base three ships of Germano, GerCan and Canmano

Things I look for in fanfic I don’t ask much I just want them to exist without me having to write all of them. I wanna find content other people have made, not that I’m lazy and think peopel should make content for me, just that I get bored of reading my own writing. If I wanna be really picky, letting it be a quickly established relationship and getting to see them in the relationship, learning about each other living together dealing with problems together that doesn’t just have them break up after one fight.

Having them in a functioning relationship before the story is over. Letting that relationship blossom past the start or the first date before the fic is finished. It’s sad when a romance story ends with them getting together cause there’s so much more relationship to have-- ;^; what about cooking together and cuddles on the couch and date nights and small fights and family gatherings--

My happily ever after for them:

It’s hard to write a happily ever after for nations or for anything to be honest cause life keeps going, growing, changing etc. But I’d love them to have a wedding and just a calm, slice of life kind of life together. A nice house, a big garden, a pond in the back where in the winter Germany and Canada can ice skate. A nice big garage where Germany and Romano can work on cars, Maybe near the woods so they can all go hiking,

Nothing fancy. A nice place that smells like warm coffee in the morning, that’s lively with sound of loved ones and shenanigans during the day and quiet whispers of affection at night. They get together but meetings are less boring, they have plans with their family and friends. Spain, France and Prussia loving to tease their little siblings/kids about things and make sure they’re doing okay. Veneziano always trying to help Romano come up with romantic shenanigans to use against his husbands. America just being happy his bro is happy.

Just soft wholesome life stuff. ;;

My kinks:

These are going below for discussions of not safe for work topics. I’m not going light so dive below at your own risk. (sex discussion, kink discussion, general ns//fw content)

I exclusively write top Canada. Like, I just do. I don’t really draw or write him taking it, I don’t know why I just don’t. Doesn’t mean he isn’t put under someone’s thumb in bed, but they’re still riding. There are very very few instances where I have written him taking. Again I don’t know why. Maybe it’s just the concept of soft pastel uwu boy slamming Germany into a wall, maybe it’s the thought of Canada in heels and leather just with the vibe of ‘go ahead tell them. no one will believe you’.

Canada isn’t any kinkier than Germany, but he’s more confident than Germany about it.  He’s got a little bit of jealous neediness in the back of his brain so when it comes to sex he loves when his partner’s attention is on him. He loves to spoil and get spoiled and is the roughest of the three. Just a tiny, tiny bit of masochism/sadism. Very small. It’s very much he’ll do it (with safe words set in place and everything) but he will feel eh about it afterward and make sure that they don’t take away that he hates them or anything. In the inverse hes very very good at fluffing people up and body worship, as well as demeaning talk. Loves role-playing, hence slipping into the mind where he’s got the confidence to throw Germany around the bedroom. He loves especially tying them up and just watching them writhe-

Germany is a switch, fight me on it. If you think that man who has very little canon confidence with romance and no experience is a 100% big daddy top you’re just wrong I’m not sorry. Mind you, he can top and he often does, but being rough and demanding and forceful is not something he’s good at he’s so nervous about injuring his partner, even if they tell him it’s fine.

Germany is into all the rough play, like it’s canon. He loves to tie and be tied up and he likes when power is taken away from him. He likes when people push him under their thumb it’s why Canada gets to be rough with him. But at the same time, Germany is the most wholesome lover out of the three. Because it can be so hard to coax him out of his shell with his kinks, he can often be the inverse. Very gentle, very praising. Absolutely loves to body worship his partners. He’s not really all that good or comfortable with giving people blow jobs, however he loves kisses and touches all over. Mind you getting a blowjob is something he really enjoys, hes just not good at giving. Good thing that both his boyfriends are amazing at it. Favorite thing the two do is Canada having Germany Ride him and then Matteo either riding him on top or giving him head during.

Romano oh, Romano. He’s a bottom. The most bottom-y bottom. An absolute pillow princess and a brat wanting to be tamed. He tops very very rarely, and out of the three has the most experience both giving and receiving and with all different partners. Even if he’s bottoming doesn’t mean he’s always at the whim of his partners though, he loves riding.

Romano is the least kinky out of the three, while the other two enjoy being tied up, Romano isn’t really a fan, he doesn’t mind collars or handcuffs but full shibari like what Canada or Germany would be fine with doesn't really fly for him. As I said before, he’s also the loudest, and gets very whiny when left to hang (not like either of them mind the noise). Romano loves giving and receiving blow jobs/hand jobs. Especially giving. It’s how he gets the good vibes of watching his partner squirm in the good way. He also loves to leave nibbles scratches bites and hickies if he’s allowed to. Catch him giving Germany a bite right above his collar before a meeting. Despite what might be expected, he can roll with degradation in bed really well but he falls apart quick with praise. He likes both but he will tear up when Germany gets overly gushy and feelsy.  Loves double penetration and being spit-roasted.

[blackcatanna]

I have completed The Mandalorian and now I shall proclaim to the mostly-porn-bots who follow me... MY THOUGHTS:

(I shall assume that this silence is one of awe and anticipation)

FIRSTLY, I would like to give an oscar to that one security officer who gave such delightfully distressed facial expressions before their ship was commandeered by Mandalorians and he was unceremoniously shot by his commanding officer.

In fact, bravo to that whole crew for stunning levels of Imperial Incompetence, one of my favourite Star Wars tropes. BUT SPECIAL SHOUT OUT to that one guy who was so pleased with himself for locking the Mandalorians in with the cargo hold controls... Until he and all his men were flushed out of the ship like shiny Imperial turds.

Next on the agenda is The Evil Dubstep Troopers. They were cool and scary until we saw Luke Skywalker force-juice one like it was a fucking lemon.

Side note: Grogu needs to work on choosing his moments to use his motherfucking force powers. Maybe on Moff Gideon, for example. Although, it was enjoyable watching him choke Cara for no reason, if only because of who she was played by.

Speaking of the force-gremlin, watching him mercilessly devour that frog-lady's offspring was excellent. I kept bouncing between expressions of horror and maniacal cackling.

I have mentioned The Spider Monsters in a previous post. I like spiders but those fuckers were revolting. Congratulations to whoever cane up with that nightmare-fuel.

LOVE Queen Armourer. I was so happy she was not purged. She is a very cool lady. I was afraid that she was resigned to a noble death in battle until she started THONKING Storm Troopers with her forge tools.

When Queen Fennec got shot by that irritating space twink, I was very disappointed... But so very happy when she returned! Nothing more to say here. I just think she's neat.

Evil Elspeth was also great. I enjoyed her constant state of barely contained maniacal glee, her commitment to The Evulz and I loved watching her day being ruined. An excellent villain. We stan.

Bo Katan seems like she's wandered into the wrong genre. All of her grandiose talk about reclaiming Mandalore and the dark saber and blah blah blah yes, I need to watch the animated stuff and I did enjoy many of her badass moments but she often comes across as kind of a dick but not in a fun way. I have spoken.

I was real sad when Kuiil died. I wish that IG-11 had stayed around longer, too. It would've been nice to see the droid continuing Kuiil's legacy.

I'm starting to realise that I like Imperials a bit too much... Obviously, in universe, they're a terrifying and powerful force of evil but, on screen, it's just so fun to watch them adorably flail from one inevitable disaster to the next!They feel like the underdogs because we know they can't win but it's so cute to watch them try :') Also, I'm biased because of the accents.

Although, Moff Gideon pisses me off because he just struts about in the middle of things with no helmet on or even his legendary dark saber out for protection and yet no one ever thinks to shoot, grenade or whistling bird him? Or force choke him? Even though the whole idea at the end of the first season was to cut off the head of the snake to protect Grogu.

Pedro Pascal as Din is EVERYTHING. I don't know what more I can say. It is so refreshing to watch a show with a lead who's so quiet.

Frog Lady. I love her. She will be best frog mumma! She gives me Wind in the Willows vibes in her cute little outfit.

I don't know her name but I have so much love for the Tatooine mechanic lady and her cymbals-looking pop-up droids. When Din was sent back to Tatooine, I was disappointed but then THIS QWEEN WAS BACK. I love her. She was right about Frog Lady!

Is that woozle sentient? I don't know what it's called. The thing that Cara rescued from the forge. It is super cute. What are the ethics around eating other species in Star Wars land? Is there a Harkness test but for eating instead of fucking?

I loved that whole bit with those two dickhead scout troopers waiting for orders while Moff Gideon threw his weight around murdering officers for no reason (a time honoured Imperial tradition, seemingly). And they hit Grogu so it also felt good when they were exploded by IG. A fun ride from beginning to end.

I could watch Grogu mash Stormtroopers about all day, honestly. Again, he might want to consider targeting Moff Gideon because that would be even more funny. I hope that Season 3 begins with Grogu murdering the shit out of Moff Gideon in a hilarious and adorable fashion. And then eating his corpse (he must've been a good villain, since I am so eager for his grisly demise).

Mando and Grogu X murder is my otp.

That crazy blue twi'lek was chewing the scenery hard and I loved every second of it. RIP Davan.

Fucking Jawas...

I can't believe I forgot to mention my top three SLORPS of the series! 3. The Evil Dubstep Troopers getting slorped into space when Din opened the airlock. 2. Grogu slorping up motherfucking everything. 1. Our winner! That Mandalorian woman with the cool hair slorping the everloving SHIT out of that gross looking worm thing in her chowder. YOU DO YOU, QWEEN.

Congratulations to the creators for making a AT-ST scary again, after the Ewok incident.