#maybe i oughta find a new one

[gamebunny-advance]

"Sharp Teeth" (Sketch)

I liked the idea of this doodle, but it's just not coming together the way I'd like. Maybe I'll come back to it as a concept, but whatever I'm doing right now just isn't working for me >_<;

[ckret2]

Chapter 65 of human Bill Cipher still being stuck in the Mystery Shack but currently fearing back pain more than execution: it's Day 1 of Bill being off death row, let's see what everyone other than Soos is doing with their day.

When Fiddleford answered the door to Ford and Stan—Stan with the Quantum Destabilizer's case slung over his shoulder—the first thing Fiddleford said was, "That demon's still alive, isn't he?"

"Demon's still alive," Stan confirmed.

Ford let out a long sigh. "I was afraid we'd have to break the news."

"I figured when the power here flickered during your shot." He planted his hands on his hips. "You didn't use the NowUSeeitNowUDontium, did you?"

Ford shook his head.

"Well?" Fiddleford fixed Ford with an angry squint, lips pursed. (Maybe it wasn't an angry squint, Ford told himself hopefully. Maybe it was just because Fiddleford didn't have new glasses yet.) "Why didn'cha shoot him?"

"I couldn't. He escaped," Ford said. As panic began to bloom on Fiddleford's face, Ford quickly added, "But he's back! That's why I used the wrong fuel. Somehow he overheard that we'd made enough Dontium for one shot, and he—tried to persuade me to cover his escape. Firing a blank made him think I'd used the Dontium up and he was safe—"

"—So's he'd come back and you could get a proper shot at him! Ha!" Fiddleford jumped up, kicking his heels in the air, hollering, "Stanford Pines, you clever sonovagun!" His hooting and hollering died down as he realized, "So... why're you here with the destabilizer instead of shooting him?"

Ford and Stan exchanged a glance. Stan said, "Well—He—He's pretty harmless right now, really—And he's great with the kids—"

"Not with Dipper," Ford muttered.

"He's great with one of the kids."

Ford said, "And he's..." It would be a lie to say improving, wouldn't it? "He's... got the potential to improve. And we— We thought— If there's a chance he could do better..."

Sternly, Fiddleford said, "You let him get into your head again, didn't you."

Ford sighed. "I let him get into my head."

Stan held out the Quantum Destabilizer's case. "Which is why we're here. He's not in your head. You won't hesitate to pull the trigger."

"I getcha." Fiddleford accepted the case grimly. "You need me to finish the job."

Ford hastily added, "If—if it becomes necessary."

Fiddleford gave him a hard look.

Ford swallowed as he realized—as always, a moment too late—just what an enormous thing he was asking of Fiddleford and his fragile nerves. "But if you don't think— I mean, if you'd rather it stay in our hands—"

Fiddleford held the Quantum Destabilizer away from Ford. "No, no—you're right. It's safer here," he said. "You oughta shoot him. I'm never not gonna think you oughta shoot him. Especially now we know he knows how to escape. But, if you won't—better that this is in my hands than with the fellers what let that devil sucker 'em into thinking he deserves to live."

Ford wanted to say I'm sorry. If he was so sorry, why had he chosen to let Bill live? It seemed like his problems always became Fiddleford's problems—yet the only times Fiddleford's problems became Ford's was when Ford caused them. "Well—the good news is, even if he does escape, he can't get far. He's trapped inside Gravity Falls' weirdness barrier."

"Well, that's somethin'," Fiddleford muttered. Then he frowned and gave Ford a sharp look. "Wait," he said slowly. "Are you sure he can't get out?"

"I—" Ford tried to remember when they'd learned that. "Sure, we—found out that first night, didn't we?" It had been a very long night.

"Yeah!" Stan laughed. "Almost accidentally killed the guy by driving him into it."

Fiddleford nodded, his expression faraway and thoughtful. "I need to run some calculations," he said. "I'll let you know what I find."

He turned away, muttering to himself. Just before he shut the door, Ford saw Tate at the far end of the great hall, arms crossed, watching the proceedings sourly.

And then the door was shut without so much as a goodbye.

"Huh," Stan said. "Ominous!" He clapped Ford on the shoulder. "Welp, let's get home!"

####

Tate leaned into Fiddleford's lab. "Dad?"

Fiddleford was sitting at a space he'd cleared at a worktable, hunched forward and squinting to see his work as he ran through a towering stack of calculations, using a calculator to double-check his math and a second calculator to double-check the first one. As he often did, he'd put on an old record to help block out distractions; and an old country song was blasting at top volume as Fiddleford sang/yodeled along: "I haaate Bill Cipher more'n I looove my son! How I looong to shoot that sonuuuvaguuun. I'll seeee my boy when that triaaangle's done—cuz I haaate Bill Cipher more'n I looove my son—"

"Dad," Tate said louder.

"Tater!" Fiddleford sat up, automatically reached to adjust a pair of glasses he wasn't wearing, and just bumped the bridge of his nose. "What is it, son?"

"Couldja turn the volume down?"

"Turn th—?" Fiddleford looked at his record player, started when he realized what was playing, and quickly took the needle off the record. "Sorry, Tater, I—"

"It's fine," Tate said glumly.

"Didn't even realize which song'd come on. They're just words to sing along to. You know I don't really feel..."

"Just don't like Pluckin' Jim's yodeling style, that's all."

Fiddleford dropped his gaze. "All right, that's fine. I'll keep it down."

Tate stuck his hands in his pockets. "Might oughta be careful with that album, anyway. If any guests overhear it talking about the triangle and call the police..."

"Oh, I know, I know. You're right, I'll be careful. It's just..." He reached under his hat to scratch at his head like he was trying to massage his brain into working. "When it feels like the whole darn world's gone crazy, it's comforting hearin' somebody sing something sensible," he said. "I—I don't mean Jim's attitude toward his family. Just the rest of it."

"Mm." Tate nodded.

Fiddleford sighed and shook his head sadly. "I don't know—maybe I'm the one who's going crazy."

"Naw," Tate said immediately. "You're not. You're the sanest I've seen you since I was a kid, dad."

"Well—thank you, Tater. That means a lot."

"You're just stressed, that's all." Tate nodded toward Fiddleford's stack of calculations. "Don't overwork yourself, all right?"

"I won't, I promise."

"If you need help with all that math..."

"No, no, that's all right." Fiddleford waved off the offer. "It's got to do with Stanford's weirdness thingamajig." For the past few months, Fiddleford and Stanford had been working on a paper about the Law of Weirdness Magnetism—although that had seemingly ground to a stop at the start of summer.

Tate paused. "Okay, but I'm dragging you out of there for meals."

"Heh! I won't fight you."

As Tate left, Fiddleford set the needle back on the record, starting the next song: "The Three B's Poisoning Your Children (Booze, Bebop, and Bill)." Tate shut the door and let out a long sigh.

####

"I'll get it!" Dipper doubted anyone else could even hear the phone; Abuelita was asleep in the living room, Soos was upstairs hammering on something, and Bill and Mabel were at the far end of the house playing the piano and singing.

Dipper jogged into the office. "Hello?"

"Dipper!" Wendy said. "Dude! Just the man I wanted to reach."

"Wendy, hey! What's up?"

"Are you still looking for the Nightwigglers?"

"Yes! Why, did something happen?"

A couple weeks earlier, Wendy had shown him where her brother had seen the Fremont Nightwigglers; but by the time she showed him the path, they'd already come and gone a couple nights earlier. They'd found footprints and followed them to what looked like a campsite—there were odd empty burrows in the ground and traces of ashes—but when Dipper had tried to figure out where they'd gone after leaving the campsite, he'd lost their trail in the underbrush.

"Gus says he saw them on the same trail again last night," Wendy said. "Which means, if they were going back to that place we found with the burrows, and it was a campsite—"

"—then that's where they're camping today. So they'll still be there tonight!" Dipper laughed. "That's perfect! I can stake them out and watch when they wake up! Hey, do you wanna come along for a stakeout?"

Wendy groaned. "I wish. Gus freaked my dad out talking about the Nightwigglers. He says we have to stay home after dark and he's actually been checking our rooms."

"Aw, man. That stinks."

"But hey, tell me all about it at work, okay?"

"You got it! Oh—I could make a Guide to the Unexplained episode! I'll show you the whole thing."

"Oh, awesome. I can't wait to see these things," Wendy said. "Head's up, you probably wanna be quiet to avoid spooking them. Gus said they looked super skittish last night. They're probably wigging out because of gravity disappearing for a couple of days, lots of other wild animals are. I don't blame them, I'm still wondering what was up with that."

"Giant invisible flying axolotl from another dimension."

Wendy laughed in surprise. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah! I'll tell you about it at work too." Probably leaving out Bill's involvement. Speaking of Bill, where had he left Dipper's backpack? "I've gotta pack for the stakeout. Thanks for the tip!"

####

Gideon knocked on the shack's back door and waited anxiously, tugging at his sleeves and shifting from foot to foot.

The door opened to the sound of distant piano music. Dipper stood there holding a heavy backpack and a box of granola bars. "Gideon?" He didn't sound thrilled.

"Well, hey there, Dipper!" Gideon tried to sound more chipper than he felt. "I don't suppose Mabel's ar—"

"Nope," Dipper said. "What do you want?"

Gideon took a deep breath. "It's about Bill—"

"Shhh!" Dipper cast a nervous glance back toward Soos's grandma asleep in the living room. "Keep it down. Only Mabel and I know you know about Bill and no one else can find out."

"Why not?"

"Because... Mabel and I will get in trouble for not telling them sooner?"

Fair enough. Adults didn't need to know everything, Gideon thought. Voice lower, he said, "I didn't notice him with the others at Rainbow Club this week, and I saw that big laser thingamabob at the shack,"—and the next day received a panicked call from a cultist who couldn't reach Bill—"and... well—I need to know if Bill's dead, or—"

Over the piano playing, an off-key voice sang at top volume: "AND IIIIIIIIII will never HATE yooOoOOou—!" In the living room, Abuelita started from her nap, blinked sleepily, turned up the volume on the TV, and fell back asleep.

Gideon's shoulders sank in disappointment.

"Still alive," Dipper said. "He has a really bad backache, though."

"Well, dang it!" Gideon kicked at a twig on the porch. It didn't move.

"Yeah, I know," Dipper said. "But... I kinda think Bill has to stay alive? I heard this prophecy that I think is about Bill saving everyone? Probably not voluntarily—he actually really didn't want me to hear about the prophecy—so... yeah, we might just be stuck with him. At least for a while."

"Well," Gideon said sourly. "Isn't that just wonderful."

####

As he trudged home, Gideon tried to think of a way out of this. For one day, he'd thought he was blessedly free of Bill; finding out he was wrong felt like getting hauled back to prison.

If the adults didn't know he knew about Bill, maybe he could tell the Stans that Bill had been using him—surely they'd forgive Gideon for using a little dream magic to brainwash the town, right? Stan understood the lengths a businessman had to go to to advertise his business, and Ford was apparently the one who'd recorded the spell in the first place—and maybe the two of them could prevent Bill from spilling his blackmail to the rest of the town; or maybe Gideon could arrange for the Stans to "accidentally" find out Gideon had been working for Bill, and then Bill couldn't blame Gideon for spilling the beans...

Or maybe he could just stop helping Bill. Simple as that. He knew he'd been helping Bill arrange escape plans. Bill had promised he'd keep quiet about Gideon's crimes as long as Gideon didn't pick up dream magic again; but he'd never required Gideon to help him. The only issue was what his contact in Bill's cult might do and whether she might out him as one of Bill's allies; maybe he could just tell her that his parents were getting suspicious and he couldn't be a go-between anymore...

When he got home, as soon as he opened the front door he could hear his father excitedly talking in the kitchen: "It's the darnedest thing! I don't know where they came from—must be tourists, I suppose..."

Gideon followed his voice into the kitchen. "Daddy? What's all this fuss?"

Bud was grinning from ear to ear; even Joy was faintly smiling, a half-washed dish forgotten in her yellow-gloved hands. "There you are," Bud said. "Son, I've got the most terrific news! I just sold the three most expensive cars on the lot, all on the same day! Can you believe that?!"

"Well, hot dog!" Gideon grinned as well, relief washing over him. "That oughta keep us going for a while, shouldn't it?"

"It sure will! I guess you were right—we never needed any magic hocus-pocus, just good salesmanship!" Bud beamed. "But it's just the darnedest thing," he said again, "they all said they'd been referred to the dealership by a Mr. Locke."

Gideon's smile froze and his stomach flipped.

"I don't remember any Mr. Locke passing through town."

"Oh," Joy said, "there was one a—a week or two ago. Some sort of talent agent, I think? He came to see Gideon."

"Did he," Bud said, clearly a bit deflated that it wasn't his prowess as a salesman that had lured these customers to town; but he quickly recovered, "Why, that's wonderful! Maybe looking to line up another television appearance?"

"No no no," Gideon said quickly, "no, it was—it was purely a social visit. I-I knew him last summer. I'm not doing that sort of... television thing anymore."

"Ah, well. Still! Having connections pays off," Bud said. "If all he wants to do is send customers our way, I'll be mighty happy! If he comes by again, invite him to stay for dinner, it's the least we can offer him as thanks."

"I think that's a—a wonderful idea," Joy said, voice even softer than usual. "He was very friendly."

"Son?" Bud called. "Where you headed?"

"Just upstairs, I remembered I need to make a call," Gideon said. He had to ensure Sue knew Bill was alive.

Seemed like he'd be working with her and Bill for a while yet. His family couldn't afford for him not to.

####

Dipper pounced the Stans the moment they entered the shack. "Hey! Great Uncle Ford!" 

"Dipper? What—"

"Grunkle Ford, remember you promised that as soon as we weren't dealing with any Bill bull, we could go on an investigation—?"

"Hey," Stan said sternly, "any Bill what?"

"Bull... soup?" Dipper tried.

Stan nodded, satisfied. "That's right. And if your parents ask, that's exactly what you think it means." At Ford's look of amazement, Stan said, "What! Last year the kids' parents said if they came home swearing, I couldn't take 'em over the summer again."

Dipper resumed his attack: "Well, we're not dealing with any Bill bullsoup today! Come help me track the Nightwigglers!" He held up his journal, proudly showing off his unfinished spread. "Wendy told me where they're camping today! If we're there before they wake up, we can finally see them in person!"

"Really? Tonight?" Ford asked. "We just had a late night yesterday."

"Can't we have two late nights and sleep in tomorrow?" Dipper pled. "They might not be there tomorrow night! What's more important: sleep, or seeing the Nightwigglers?"

"Yes, I see your point. You're absolutely right," Ford said. "I could take a nap now and we can leave after dinner."

"Yes!"

Stan groaned, "Great—the insomniacs are enabling each other." He shook his head and started upstairs, muttering, "I'm gonna see what Soos is hammering on."

Dipper said, "I've already packed my camping supplies! Do you need help packing? I can help you pack! Come on—I can show you where we're going, too!" He impatiently led the way to the elevator.

####

This weekend, Bill had escaped the shack, faked his death, and proven that the whole Pines family actually wanted him alive; and yet, for all that, Mabel thought he seemed pretty down in the dumps today. He'd been kind of off since the eclipse.

Actually, now that she thought about it, he'd been off since before the eclipse, ever since the day he'd been grumpy to her about the glass pyramid "Mysteries." She was pretty sure he wasn't mad at her about that anymore; so she didn't know what was wrong.

But even though Mabel could see him wince when he leaned certain ways or moved his arms too quickly, he was trying to hide that he was in pain and he was trying to hide his gloomy mood. He grinned when he played the piano, and he alternated between popular songs that she knew and could sing along with and a bunch of old boring things like jazz and opera. (Bill tried to sing along to everything, even when he shouldn't. Mabel was pretty sure he was the worst opera soprano in the world.)

She didn't know how to fix whatever was actually bothering him. She could hang out with him and sing and talk—that seemed to make him happier. But Bill needed more than that.

He needed more friends.

Bill attempted a run, one hand crossing over the other and back as he rolled up the keyboard; his hands tripped over each other and stumbled across several keys at once.

Mabel laughed. "That sounded like a musical fart!"

Bill blew a raspberry. "I'll show you a musical fart." He attempted the run again, and messed up again.

Mabel laughed again. "I don't think you've got that part."

"Hey! I'm usually great at that part. It's this body—I'm used to playing it with flat fingers, I haven't practiced it with an extra dimension before," said Bill, who was lying, and had never been good at that part, and truthfully was pleased he now had an excuse that let him pretend he was actually better than he was. "Playing piano in a human body really holds me back. It takes nine hands to play my favorite song." That wasn't a lie.

He started the song over and elbowed Mabel. "Hey. Something's eating at you. What's up, kid?"

She hadn't realized she wasn't hiding her gloomy thoughts well enough. "Uuugh, I want you to meet my friends, but this morning Grunkle Ford said I still can't invite them over even though you're off death row. I guess he and Grunkle Stan are still worried you'll brainwash them or something?"

"Pff. We're still—renegotiating the terms of my imprisonment."

"Oh yeah? What have you renegotiated so far?"

The corners of Bill's mouth turned down. Mabel suspected that might have something to do with his foul mood. "Hey, I've got an idea to get your friends over here."

"Yeah?"

"Tell your uncles that the girls' parents are starting to wonder why you haven't been inviting them over like you did last summer. Say they're beginning to think that something is going on over here, and they're worried you're not in a safe environment—buuut if their kids can come over and see everyone's just been adjusting to a new guest, maaaybe their parents will calm down, right?"

Mabel shot Bill a dirty look. "Bill! That's a complete lie."

"But it's the kind of lie that could easily be true, and might even be true in the future, so is it really a lie?"

"Yeah it is."

"No it's not! Besides, it'll get your friends over here and it won't hurt anything, won't it?"

Mabel grimaced. "Okay, I can try—but if I try it and it works and I bring my friends over, you've got to make friends with them."

"Hmm!" Bill's face twisted up. "I like Candy's taste in art. And her bloodthirst."

Mabel elbowed him. "What do you have against Grenda?"

####

Eight-year-old Grenda sat at her desk kicking her feet and staring at her $1 bill, waiting for the bell to ring for lunch. It was Chocolate Chip Cookie Monday, they were fresh and gooey, and she was ready.

For the first time, she noticed the design on the dollar had a weird little one-eyed triangle with a hat. She pulled out a marker and drew a little smile under his eye.

And then she added buck teeth to the smile.

And then she gave him a second eye, stupid glasses, and a spiky beard that poked out in every direction.

And then drew wavy stink lines over him and added a word bubble that said "I'M SMELLY!"

"Heh. Stupid looking guy," she mumbled.

####

With an air of haughty disdain, Bill said, "She knows what she did."

"Okay, but you'll be nice to her, right? Pleeease?"

"All right, fine," Bill said. "For you, I'll be nice."

####

"Grunkle Stannn can my friends please come over? Even their parents think it's weird that they haven't been here all summer! If Grenda and Candy come over they'll know nothing weird's going on!"

"Uhhh..." Stan grimaced. "The last thing we need is parents asking questions... Yeah, sure, you should probably do that sometime soon. Maybe after we figure out what we're doing with Bill for the rest of the summer—"

"Thanks!" Mabel hugged him, ran off, and decided she'd heard Stan say "yeah, sure, you should."

She pulled out her phone. "Candy! Grenda!" She kept her voice at a loud whisper. "Great news! Dipper's gonna be out with Grunkle Ford tonight and I kinda-sorta got permission for a sleepover! Get ready for a party. I have a plan."

####

(This is a bit of a transition chapter for a couple more plots, but I hope y'all enjoyed! Let me know what you think!)

[sadhours]

You’re so talented and amazing that smut has me SWEATING!!!!

Plsssss part two with Steve taking readers virginity I beg

stop I love you!

cw: 18+ minors dni, smut, inexperienced reader, oral (f and m receiving), virginity loss, p in v, unprotected (sorry I can’t write any other way)

part one

requests are open!!

shockingly, when you went to Steve’s house that night, you two didn’t sleep together. Which was his idea. He said he felt like maybe you two oughta get to know each other better before you went that far. You were visibly upset by that but Steve insisted it would be better that way.

So that’s how you find yourself a couple weeks later, holding hands with him as you walk through the mall. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear you were dating but Steve didn’t ask you to be his girlfriend. But you two have been spending almost every day together, after work and on your days off. Like today, the pair of you have the day off but you wind up at the mall anyway. He called you this morning and asked if you wanted to hang out. To which you told Steve you needed to get a new pair of shoes for work, since yours were falling apart and he offered to tag along. He even picked you up.

You make eye contact with your coworkers as the pair of you stroll passed the food court. They make crude hand gestures and so you squeeze Steve’s hand and walk faster. He’s none the wiser, eyes scanning around the crowded mall. You catch yourself staring at him. You’ve had this like, really intense feeling in your chest ever since you and Steve started hanging out. It’s tight, almost like your lungs don’t have enough air. And he’s literally all you think about, all you can talk about. Steve, Steve, Steve. On a loop, to a nauseating extent. Not nauseating to you, but most likely to your family and friends. But really, he’s so dreamy.

“Where do you usually get your work shoes?” Steve asks, grazing his thumb against the back of your hand.

“Sears,” you answer honestly. Steve’s parents are in a vastly different tax bracket than your own so you get a little self conscious about these kinds of things. You were incredibly impressed with his house. And it took a good convincing from him to let him come over to yours. Especially because while Steve’s parents weren’t home when you went over there, yours were at yours always. And they were embarrassing, even though you were an adult now, they hovered. And you couldn’t close your door when he came over. Your mom about talked his ears off, too but Steve was charming and when he left, your mom told you he was sweet and she liked him.

“Cool,” he nods, “What do you wanna do after this?”

You shrug, walking into the entrance of Sears, “I don’t know.”

“We can use my pool,” he offers, “It’s really nice out, today.”

You blush, the thought of being in your swimsuit in front of Steve is kind of a lot. Even though you two have messed around, you’ve been almost completely dressed each time. Really, you’ve just been doing the same thing— dry humping but Steve always pulls your tits out. He actually stares at them sometimes, gets this look on his face that makes you feel like a million bucks. His eyes get all glassy and he looks dazed as he watches them bounce with your movements. It makes you feel sexy and you’ve never felt that way in your life. But being so exposed in broad daylight is rather intimidating.

“Yeah, maybe,” you reply shyly, cheeks ruddy at the thought of him seeing your body. “We’d have to go get my swimsuit, though.”

“We’re at a mall,” Steve chuckles, “You can just buy one.”

Well, you didn’t anticipate spending too much today. But again, you’re embarrassed so you won’t say that. You just shrug, “If I can find one.”

“I can help,” he grins, eyebrows raising as he nudges his side against you. Which just makes your face ten times more flushed. “Oh, look!” Steve points to the section of the store lined with swimsuits, “Perfect.”

The pair of you head that way. Steve motions at a red bikini, which is not something you’d usually wear. You’re a one piece kind of girl. But now that you’re thinking about it, the swim suit you have at home isn’t exactly sexy. And really, you want Steve to look at you with that dreamy look in his eyes again.

“That one’s nice,” he says, “And my trunks are red, so we’ll match.”

You pick up the top, looking it over when you realize you have no idea how to tell your size. You’re gonna have to try it on. “I need to try it on,” you tell Steve and grab a few sizes before making your way to the dressing rooms, Steve right behind you.

Much to Steve’s dismay, you don’t show him the bikini but you get the right size and get your pair of shoes. Steve buys you a smoothie on the way out. But what he does on the ride to his house is really what gets you. As he’s driving, he reaches his hand over and rests it on your thigh. His palm against your bare thigh makes them all tingly and you feel like the car is suddenly really hot, so you roll down the window. Looking out because you’re too shy to look at him. Steve squeezes your thigh and you clear your throat, shifting in your seat.

“You alright?” he asks, turning to you briefly.

“I’m fine,” you choke out as you look at him.

“Is this okay?” he squeezes your thigh again.

You swallow the lump rising in your throat and nod your head yes, “Yeah, it feels nice.”

“Good,” he smiles, his eyes crinkling with it and he’s the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen.

❤️❤️❤️❤️

You’re really nervous, fixing your hair as you look in the mirror. You wished Steve gave you a towel to cover up with before you changed because now you have to make an entrance… in this bikini that feels like it barely covers anything. You swear one wrong move and your boobs gonna fly right out. But you think, Steve won’t mind that.

His face confirms it when you finally walk out onto the back patio, seeing Steve laying towels out on the pool loungers. He drops the towel in his hand and his lips part, holding his hand above his brows to shield the sun as he gawks at you. And thankfully, his reaction gives you a breath of confidence and you strut over to him, “Not too bad, huh?”

“Fucking unbelievable,” he breathes through a satisfied smile, “You look amazing.” His hand comes to rest on the back of your waist, dipping his face down to kiss your cheek.

“Steve!” you flush, bringing your hands up to your face. He grabs your wrists and kisses all over face, repeating that you look great over and over. You erupt in giggles, grabbing his hands and pull back.

“What? Too much?” he asks, looking down at you with those gorgeous puppy dog eyes.

“I think… you need to cool off,” you say slyly before shoving him into the pool, jumping in right after him. Steve’s laughing when he comes up from the water, swimming over to you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Good one,” he muses, looking fond, “Very clever.”

“I’m glad you thought so,” you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck. He kisses you then, and immediately you melt. Kissing Steve is like otherworldly. It’s like everything around you disappears and it’s just you two. His lips are soft yet firm, kissing you determinedly. His hands are big, cascading up and down your sides.

But then he pulls away and smiles, “Wanna race? I bet I can swim from this end to the other faster than you.”

“You’re on,” you bet and start swimming to the edge of the pool.

❤️❤️❤️❤️

After you two get out of the pool, your body is all tingly and needy. You dry off and can’t keep your eyes off of Steve’s body as he dries off. Eyes scanning over the constellations of moles scattering over his chest, arms and back. He catches you, biting is lip as he’s drying his hair.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“I think… I want…” you take a deep breath as your face flushes.

“What is it? You okay?” he asks, tilting his head as he gets a look of concern in his eyes.

“I think I’m ready,” you tell him, “ya know.. to do it.”

“Really?” he drops his towel, looking surprised.

“Uh huh,” you nod as you smile, so sure of yourself.

He grabs your hand and practically pulls you up to his bedroom. You fall back on his mattress and he’s crawling up between your legs, palm meeting your cheek gently as he crashes his lips into yours. It’s different than kisses before. Steve seems more urgent, more needy. His hands feel you everywhere, squeezing and pulling wherever he can. It’s intoxicating and makes your stomach twist, full of desire. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer and you can feel his cock strained behind his swim trunks rubbing against your core. It’s familiar, but a bit more charged. There’s more coming and it has your back arching. Steve breaks the kiss, “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” you nod, writhing against him, “I’m sure.”

“Cool,” he breathes, moving his fingers to untie your bikini top and he pulls it off. His lips find your jaw, leaving sloppy open mouthed kisses wherever they can. Down your neck and over the curve of your breasts, then you feel his tongue against your perked nipple and you whine, knitting your fingers in his damp hair.

He flicks his tongue against it, looking up at your face as he broadly licks it before sucking it between his lips. You gasp, tilting your head back as you try to grind against him harder. You’re desperate for more friction there. Steve moans against your supple skin, and then his lips work lower. Down your stomach. And you no longer have his erection to grind against but his fingers dip into the waistband of your bottoms. Your breath catches in your throat, looking down at him in anticipation. He looks so pretty, the sunlight shining through the half closed curtains in his bedroom and casting beautifully on his strong eyebrows and sharp nose.

Steve peels your bottoms down your thighs and you move your legs to help him, hands moving to cover your chest. Otherwise, completely exposed to him. Steve kisses your hipbone, spreading your legs with his hands and then moves his mouth between them. Starts with kissing your thighs, but when he actually gets his mouth on your pussy, you cry out. It’s pleasure in a way you’ve never felt and it’s white hot, feel it everywhere. He licks through your folds, humming softly as he does so. It’s so warm and wet and lovely. Uses his plump lips when he does it, grazing against your folds. And he puts his mouth completely on you, sucks on your folds and his thumb lowers down to your hole, rubbing teasing circles around it and you gasp out. Eyes closing involuntarily as you tilt your head back, focused solely on how incredible this feels.

It’s almost pathetic how quickly he makes you cum, your cry breaks off as it leaves your lips and your thighs squeeze his head while you ride it out. Steve watches you with a look of shock on his face, flattery, really. Impressed with himself at quick he made that happen. Smoothes his palms along the soft skin of your legs as he forces them open, coming up for air. His cheeks are flushed, a pretty pink blooming over them and the tip of his nose.

“Christ,” he exhales, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs as he beams up at you. “You okay, princess?”

Your chest heaves while you come down, eyes blinking open as you let out a sigh. The pet name makes your chest tighten, you want Steve to say it again, over and over. “So okay,” you gasp out as you sit up and look down at him.

He smiles cheekily, nudging his nose against your shaking thighs as he blinks up at you, “You’re sensitive, huh?”

“Nobody’s ever done that to me,” you admit, tucking your hair behind your ear as you flush.

He chuckles softly, keeps nuzzling against your thigh as he smoothes his palms down your calves. “You sure you wanna keep going?”

You nod enthusiastically at him, “W-wanna make you feel good.”

Steve pushes you on your back, gets himself on top of you and places a chaste kiss against your lips, mumbles against them, “That made me feel really good.”

Your hands find his hair, carding in the locks as you kiss his words and roll your hips up to meet him, “I wanna keep going. Maybe I can try.. returning the favor.”

The boy grunts softly into your mouth, the corners of his lips hitching up, “You ever done that before?”

“No,” you pout, feeling a little self conscious but more than that, eager. “I’m a really fast learner, though.”

“I’m.. I,” Steve laughs, breath hot against your mouth, “Might need a break after, but… hell, we’ve got all night.”

“A break?” you ask curiously and Steve nods against you, foreheads bumping together. He cups your cheek, kisses you tenderly.

“Mhm, can’t go again as quick,” he mumbles into your lips, grounds his hips down and you can feel him through his swim trunks. Hard and firm against your sensitive cunt.

You pull him back slightly, looking up at him tenderly as you say, “I really wanna try.”

He laughs again, breathless and it’s not mean, it makes your heart warm. The sound of him. Pretty and sweet. Makes you that much eager to please; to impress.

Steve rolls onto his back, inches up against his pillows and looks at you, eyes dark despite the fond smile spreading on his face. You sit beside him and your fingers find the elastic of his shorts, inching inside and looking up at him for guidance. He nods, short and soft. You pull down his damp trunks and his cock bounces out, long and thick against his abdomen. He helps rid of the shorts completely, kicking them off his ankles and then he rakes his fingers through your hair. Tilts his head as he looks down at you and says, “Just do what feels natural, princess.”

Your cheeks heat at the name, blooming down your neck and chest. Curious fingers graze down his length, Steve breathes out a pretty sound— almost a whine, kind of a sigh. Then you wrap your fingers around him, biting your lip at the warmth and weight. He inhales sharply, nodding at you as you lean forward and press your lips to the tip. Experimentally, you lick against the head of his cock and then drag your tongue across the edge of it. Steve groans, keeps stroking your cheek and forehead as he watches you with pupils blown wide.

“That’s it, baby,” he breathes out, “doing so good already.”

You’ve still got your fingers circled around his shaft, holding his cock up as you lick the tip like an ice cream cone. But you know you’re supposed to suck, that’s what you’ve been told at least. So you wrap your lips around the head and do just that. It punches a pretty sound from Steve’s throat, distinctly a whine. So you do it again and again and Steve keeps making that sound over and over before he says, “Move your hand, princess. Slow, up and down.”

Head feeling all dizzy, you listen and slowly stroke his cock up and down. But it’s kinda awkward— dry. You think it would work smoother if your palm was wet so you pull away and lick your hand before returning it to Steve’s cock, and you were right, the movement is so much easier like this and Steve moans, eyes blinking rapidly as he watches you.

“Such a fast learner, good girl,” he pants out and you’re smiling, cheeks swelling before you take his tip back between your lips.

You like this— a lot. Grinding down against the mattress for some friction, thighs all hot and slick with arousal. It’s the way he reacts, the sounds he makes and the way his face contorts in pleasure. Steve was pretty before but he looks even prettier like this. He bites at his lower lip, makes it even pinker and plumper. You sink a little more of him into your mouth, careful with your teeth as you swirl your tongue around his swollen tip and then suck. Your jaw aches slightly but it’s so worth it. Steve’s fingers slide into the roots of your hair, gripping softly as he moans out little encouragements.

“So pretty, so pretty like this.”

And it’s kind of silly because you think he looks so pretty like this. You squeeze his shaft a little tighter as you stroke him, out of pure excitement and Steve groans, guttural and low as he swears, “Fuuuuck.”

You suck harder on his tip and continue moving your fingers up and down his length, curving your palm on each upstroke because Steve’s eyes roll back slightly and you want more of that.

“Just like that— holy—- fuckfuckfuck,” Steve pants and moans, “I’m gonna cum.”

Out of pure curiosity, you don’t pull off. Because also, when you came, Steve didn’t pull away. He makes a choked, broken sound and releases, hot and thick on your tongue. And you’d heard all your coworkers complain about the taste but Steve is sweet, not bitter like you’ve been told. You don’t hate the taste at all, though the texture is another story. But you swallow it down all the same and Steve’s watching and gasping for air as you pull away. He grabs hold of your face, pulls you close and then wraps his arms around your body, kissing you fiercely, bruisingly.

❤️❤️❤️❤️

It happens later. Steve’s parents away on yet another business trip, a white lie told to yours about staying the night at a friends and there you are. On his couch. Steve laid on his back, you nestled between his thighs with your cheek on his chest and his legs tangled with you. He plays with your hair as the TV plays late night informercials. You’re not paying attention, mind wandering as you subtly take in the smell of Steve. Musk and summer, his honey scented shampoo and the sugary candy you two shared on his breath. Fans your face hotly and lovely. Tickles against the ridge of your brows, cascades down to your nostrils and it’s rather intoxicating. Ushers you to lift your face and inch up his body, wanting to taste as you brush your lips against his. His hand snakes down your spine, onto the soft skin at the small of your back, your shirt pulled up just slightly. Steve kisses you back tenderly, sighing so softly you almost miss it.

A thought tugs at the back of your head and you ask against his lips, “What are we?”

Steve hums, eyebrow raising as he smiles, “What do you mean?”

“Like… we spend every day together, we kiss, we… do other stuff,” you swallow hard, chest tightening with fear as you repeat, “So what are we?”

He nudges his nose against yours, “What do you wanna be, princess?”

“Yours,” you admit, a whisper. Almost silent.

“You are mine,” Steve replies, squeezing your hip in his hand. You flush something mad, trying to surprise the giggle of excitement from bubbling out of your throat. It’s fruitless, the sound erupting from you as your cheeks swell. Steve kisses you again, softly and asks against your lips, “You wanna be my girlfriend, princess?”

You nod as you kiss back, “Mhm.”

“Then you’re my girlfriend,” Steve agrees easily, his breath smells so sweet, makes your head all fuzzy.

“And you’re my boyfriend?” you test, hand moving up to cup his jaw.

“You better believe it,” he mumbles, you can hear the smile but even better you can feel it against your lips. You kiss him again, more intent behind it this time— fingernails softly scratching at his jaw. Steve drags his tongue along your bottom lip, asking to deepen the kiss which you eagerly agree as you part your lips. He tastes like candy, tooth achingly sweet when you welcome his skilled tongue against your own. It heats up quick, your hips dancing together as the pair of you pant into each others mouths. Steve’s hands lower to the fat of your ass, kneading and pulling. Your thighs feel all tingly, core aching with desperation for him.

You’re determined, you’ve been wanting Steve in that way for so long it feels like and he’s been taking his time with you. Testing the waters when you would’ve handed it over to him that first night in Scoops Ahoy!

“Stevie,” you pant against his mouth, “need you.”

“You have me, princess,” he retorts, smiling sweetly as he uses his leverage on your ass to grind you down against him. You can feel his length, hard and firm against your core and you whimper, needy.

“Need you— Steve, want you so bad,” you babble into his mouth as you writhe against him.

He taps your bum, “Up. Bedroom.”

You obey, don’t have to be told twice, holding his hand as he leads you to his bedroom. He kisses you once you’re inside, guides you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the mattress and you fall into it, pulling Steve with you, refusing to pull your lips away from his. Which is a feat when you two start undressing one another. When you do have to pull away to rid of articles, you whine and Steve chuckles, gives you what you want seconds later. Smoothes his hands down your naked body as he licks into your mouth. He pulls back, on his knees between your legs as he licks the tips of his fingers and brings them to your core, exhaling sharply once he’s met with the evidence of just how much you need him.

This is it, you think. As he licks his fingers again and smears the saliva over his aching tip, guiding it towards your entrance and you whine out, just when skin meets skin. Readier than ever, overwhelmingly desperate to feel Steve inside you. Your back arches as he sinks in, just the tip of him stretching you open. It’s pleasure incarnate, radiates through your stomach and eats at all your nerves.

“More,” you plead, grabbing onto his biceps as you roll your hips. Steve sinks in deeper and it’s a little intense, searing and hot and also so, so, so perfect. Pulls a high pitched moan from you. Steve’s rubbing soothing circles against your stomach.

“Tell me if it’s too much, yeah?”

You nod, digging your nails into his skin. Making little crescent indents. He lowers his mouth to yours, grazing your lips together as he sheathes his cock deeper inside. You gasp out, eyes clenching tightly at the burn. Steve kisses you through it, whispers words of encouragement there. Princess this and princess that. Pushes through this barrier and it’s all white hot pleasure. Bright light behind your eyelids as you moan out appreciation, adoration, desperation. His hips still, giving you the opportunity to adjust. Kisses you stupid with sugary sweetness. Tastes just like candy. Your hands are all over him, chest, stomach, shoulders, neck and back. Crying out soft little praising sounds.

He grits his teeth, eyebrows tangled as he pleads, “Please— princess, can I move?”

“Please,” you beg, “Gimme…” the thoughts lost as Steve winds his hips back and pushes them back down into you. A moan interrupting, voice wrecked already and Steve swallows it, kisses it away as he rolls his hips steadily. Keeps this rhythm that has your eyes rolling back and steady, candied uh-uh-uh’s fall from your lips.

Steve’s left hand holds himself up, palm to the mattress while his right grips tightly at your hip. Your legs open, ankles hooking over the backs of his thighs and your hands are still everywhere, taking in whatever you can. The way he’s stretching you out and filling you up at the same time is intoxicating, euphoria dripping all over you. You’re almost mad that you’d waited so long but it’s all too perfect. And maybe Steve’s been right and waiting is what made this moment the best thing you’ve ever experienced.

His lips are brutal against yours, pushing and pulling. Desperate and hungry. These pretty grunts and moans mushing against your lips.

“Steve,” you whine out, “god…”

He moves to grab your jaw, tilting your head back into the pillows as he moves his hips quicker, harder. Makes your head spin, the coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter. All you can really do is lay back and take it, mind gone all numb. Your hips search his out, rocking back into him with every thrust. The tip of his cock reaching something fierce and overwhelming inside you. Brushes against this spot so wonderfully that tears prick your eyes, threatening to spill over onto your cheeks.

“So perfect for me,” he mumbles into your mouth, “so pretty, so fuck— fucking gorgeous, princess.”

This wave rushes up on you like nothing before, punches the breath out of your lungs as you grip onto his back, nails scratching down the mole specked skin and Steve groans roughly against your mouth. Your eyes are open but you’re blinded by stars, exploding like fireworks as your eyebrows furrow and you emit a sound so loud, bordering on a cry. It’s like the drop of a roller coaster but a million times more intense, you’re not on this earth for the seconds it happens. Legs wrapping around his waist, crying out during the aftershocks of it. Steve’s panting against your lips, little whines and moans. Pretty sounds that just elongate the utter ecstasy ripping through your body.

“Fuckfuck— shit, princess, I’m gonna—“ Steve pulls out of you abruptly, fingers gripping around his cock as he spills over onto your stomach. Makes a choked and broken sound as he does it, your eyes are on his face. Watching the pleasure contort his features in a way that has you obsessed. He pants, chest heaving as he pushes his hair back. Catches his breath, leans down and kisses you softly before exiting the bed. You whine in protest, reaching your hands out for him.

Steve smiles sweetly at you, grabs a dirty towel from his hamper and moves to wipe his cock. You watch in awe, still coming back down to earth. He moves back towards the bed, using the towel to clean off your stomach. He drops it to the floor and curls up next you, pulling your face to his and kisses you stupid.

“Worth the wait?” he asks, teasingly.

You giggle and say against his lips, “When can we do it again?”

He laughs, pulling your body flush to his as he says, “You’re gonna kill me, princess.”

[ladybirdswritings]

Pretty Thing - Cooper Howard (Ghoul) x Reader

Summary: You’re a shiny, pretty prize worth more caps than can be counted on ten hands altogether. There’s something special about you, and the Ghoul is determined to figure out just what it is.

Notes: I’ve been wanting to write for this cowboy for days now and I’ve finally come around to it. Cowboys are my specialty lately <3. Lmk if u love this and I’ll write more (feel free to leave me lots of comments and interactions, I love those!!)

A03 | masterlist | next chap

pretty thing…

“Well lookie here, seems you vaulties ain’t as perfect as you promise to be, huh?”

A furrow of chocolate brows, offense and confusion from sweet Lucy MacLean. This vault promised development in weaponry that the new world had never seen before. It was a thing of storybooks, the kind of thing her dad told her right before her head hit the pillow.

Now, here she was; and it wasn’t a caged weapon she was staring at… no, but rather a caged person.

“This violates all of our policies…” she muttered softly, worry stitched in her soft features as she looked on at the mangled cowboy beside her.

“Tsk tsk, sweetheart. You oughta be more careful with trustin’ these shit-eating freaks. Ain’t you learned your lesson first time round?”

Lucy sighed, falling to her knees and grazing a warm hand against the metal. She looked on at you with pity. Weak, hazy you.

How did you end up in this predicament? You didn’t know. You didn’t remember.

It was as if the entirety of everything you’d ever known was only stitched within your brain in jagged, disorderly flashes. This had to be one too. A flash.

A vault dweller and a ghoul, side by side.

It was most certainly a flash.

“What do we do, coop?” The brunette wondered, doe eyes gazing up at the mangled creature. He only smirked.

“We split. You find your precious tin-man you can’t stop yappin’ bout… and I’ll snatch up this dyin’ cargo. Comprende?”

Lucy had come to trust him, and maybe it was a stupid thing to do. Reality was, though, he’d kept her alive this far. Maybe she owed it to him to follow orders. With a huff, she parted— and then?

It was just you and the ghoul.

Heavy footsteps circled your metal cage, like shark to labored minnow. You were far too exhausted to pick up those pretty eyes of yours from the ground they gazed at.

Chains wrapped round your wrists and ankles, cold metal burned against your spine and cheek. There were two ghouls in your peripheral vision, and each one was the same amount of horrifying.

The footsteps halted, and suddenly the mangled, noseless blur was clear as day before you. Kneeled to your level, observant— cold.

“Well well— look at you, huh? Pretty thing. Now I understand takin’ precautions but damn, sweetie. That’s a lotta chains, hm? What’s so scary bout’ you?” He whispered the last part, thread laced finger lifting to slowly push a loose locket of hair from your dampened face through the cage.

You blinked, forcing your gaze upward so to try and meet his eyes. It was exhausting.

He observed you like you were a foreign object, a diamond in the radiated rough.

“I’d wager to say that you’re just the weapon we was lookin’ for, ain’t you?”

God, he didn’t know just how right he was.

If there was one certain thing you could remember clear as day, laced through the flashes, it was your powers. Each and every one of them, laying dormant now.

You were far too poked and prodded, too drained to even think of lifting a finger.

“Been doin’ this for centuries, pretty thing. Centuries and I ain’t ever seen this kinda experimentation on a little fawn. Hm. Guess you was just unlucky.” His breath was warm as it hit your face. Musing and eyeing your exhausted, slumped figure. Observant, taking his time. Your keepers would be coming soon— he didn’t seem worried.

“Tell you what. You look like you gon’ make me lots of money. So you’re comin’ with me. Don’t you worry, I prefer ropes stead’ of chains, sweetie. You’ll be nice n’ comfortable.”

The more he spoke, the farther away he sounded. You were aware he was a ghoul, that much was certain. Yet even so, no part of his voice, no part of his fading threats were even a little bit startling. No.

His voice was a soft yet strong southern drawl and god— it was far more comforting than the chains and cement floor you’d always known. Perhaps that’s why you let the exhaustion overtake you. Perhaps that’s why you closed your eyes.

Did it matter why? No. All that mattered was that you did.

The rest was a blur. The last thing you remember? Frayed ropes being wrapped round you tight as you were freed from your chains. Mangled, coat covered arms lifting you from the cement and golden teeth pressed against your aching ear to whisper:

“C’mon now, pretty thing…”

Then?

Slumber…

¿to be continued?

[warframe1999]

Sooo…

The protoframes, huh?

i wanted to go a bit into what each member of the Hex (yay, new syndicate!!) had to say when you got into proximity of them in the relay. there’s honestly a lot here to set the scene not only for 1999 itself, but introducing each protoframe as well as sort of hinting at their interpersonal relationships, and how they interact with one another! some of my favorite kinda of lore is specifically character development and personality-focused dynamics like this so here!!!! i walked back and forth for an hour for YOU! here is all proximity dialogue for each character in the Höllvania Mall relay:

ARTHUR:

“Question. Could I take Quincy down if he turned on me?”

“We’ll find you, Doctor. That’s a promise.”

“Stop sniffing around my head, Eleanor. If I want to talk, I’ll talk.”

“We need to keep Lettie on her feet. If she goes we all go.”

“Dunno why we even bothered with that cleaning rota.”

“Yeah, we can hold this place.”

“One day, Aoi. No more roadblocks and checkpoints. Just you and me and the bikes, open road for miles, all this bullshit far away. I swear to Sol.”

“Still too open. We need more chokepoints.”

“Bottled water. Like sodding gold dust.”

“Well Amir’s still alive. That’s a win.”

LETICIA:

“I got nothin’ to prove to you, Quincy! Go play your little games, niño.”

“¿Qué onda? The Lady Eleanor ain’t no more freaky than the last time you checked in. ‘Less you know different?”

“Yo, Aoi. Chill, hermana. Do something for yourself, for once. Arthur ain’t going to blow away if you blink.”

“The boss says care for his sister I care for his sister. As long as you still are his sister… and as long as I feel like listening to him.”

“Being loved and being hurt? Yeah, I make no distinction. I knew someone, once, wired the same way. Kept me sane. And what of it? Te crees muy acá ¿no? Get outta my head, Eleanor.”

“Never signed up for this. I’ll be home Mamá. Your little girl doesn’t end here. No te preocupes.”

“Man, I’ve been awake so long that even the spiders in my head have all gone to sleep.”

“Wacha: unless you’re pissing blood right this second, whatever it is can wait.”

“I swear, should lock Aoi and Amir in a cuna. Didn’t sign up for no babysitting gig.”

AOI:

“I don’t wanna go on patrol. I wanna take stuff apart.”

“Nearly time for the On-lyne boys.”

“Metal, metal, metal, what do you want to be?”

“Yep. I can live like this.”

“Arthur needs to keep some fuel in the tank for himself. Goddamn savior complex that man has…”

“I oughta get some headphones. Then I wouldn’t have to hear Quincy work off all that surplus testosterone!”

“If they take Entrati out, who’s going to look after that mutant jaguar of his? Poor thing won’t last five minutes in the wild.”

“Amir! Remember to hydrate!”

“Dear past self: we finally got those super powers we always wanted. Whaddayaknow.”

“GodDAMN. Lettie would you keep your frickin’ rats OUT of my SPACE?”

QUINCY:

“Don’t look up, Doctor.”

“Arthur needs to leave the Major to me, innit. Respect my methods.”

“Don’t mind the waiting. Plenty to be thinking about.”

“You don’t know me. Never see what darkens your rooftops. Inevitable, like the rain. Handing out consolations in a transient connection. Boom. Smoke. And ghost.”

“You wiv me, Eleanor? How deep in you go? See anythin’ you fancy, girl?”

“Amir is a weak, weak boy. Like Aunty said, ‘duppy know who fi frighten.’”

“Thassit… nice and steady.”

“How many man have the opps got? Not enough t’be takin’ me. Never.”

“Oi, Lettie! Grab y’ strap and let’s go. Best a five buys the drinks?”

ELEANOR:

“Don’t expect me to tell you what I’ve seen in Amir’s head. He’s not a beautiful, broken marionette, and he’s nobody’s project. He’s one of us.”

“Quincy thinks he’s going to wake up one night to me chewing the flesh from his ribs. Maybe he’s right.”

“I know you’re there. I can feel you. It’s okay, I won’t tell the others.”

“Aoi? She’s lovely and kind and strong, and… I kind of hate her a little bit. Because it should have been her spreading her happiness into everyone’s heads, and me throwing cars and trucks around.”

“I thought there were going to be two of you! Where’s the other one?”

“Blood. There’s gonna be a fight. Something… bursting. Crossed swords. Arthur!”

“What on earth is a ‘Mara Lohk’?”

“Oh, you’re going to make such a difference this time around.”

“I don’t think Doctor Entrati expected me to survive. I had a lot more than just a cough. But… survive I did. And Lettie has not forgiven me for it.

“Oh. OH. She’s wonderful! Triple-faced goddess! But there’s a shadow on her, isn’t there?”

AMIR:

“A little zap, and… infinite credit! No more ‘insert coin’! Not that we could insert coin. We have no coin. Once we had coin, but now Aoi has smooshed all the coin. Coinnnn.”

“Why did they never make a console port?”

“BAD MOVE, SPACE CAA-DET.”

“But the one thought none of them spoke out loud was - could Lettie reattach a head?”

“Hey, Arthur! Arthur! Arthur! Arthur! Arthur! Dahh, you missed it.”

“Eleanor? Are you there? Can you - can you give my brain a hug please? Thank you.”

“We’re getting a little too excited, let’s step it down, step it down before we get the blue cracklies. In one two out one two.”

“Oi’m Quincy. Oi’m gonna blow out yer kneecaps. Mashup in yer chip shop alright.”

“Ungh! This violent video game is influencing my emotions! Societal norms… eroding! Morality… subsumed! I MUST KILL!”

“This place used to smell so good. Coffee. Cookies. Fresh clean socks. Now it’s just rust, pain, and old socks.”

[chaotic-goodsir]

So it's Black Friday in a week and I just found out my boss wants me to personally ship like a million of these fuckin' Wiggly dolls across the country in time for the big day. Don't even have a vehicle, just gotta teleport this shit around like some kinda one-person eldritch DHL, and He's payin' me in fuckin' apples. I mean I tried to negotiate, I said 'hey my lord maybe we oughta hire some more folks to help with this little enterprise we've got goin' on' and He goes 'oh well ecktually I was just about to say! While you're at it I need you to find me a prophet! Someone who can bring about my birth and lead my new cult of devoted worshippers!' so of course I said 'wait a damn minute now, I've been runnin' errands for you since 2005! That's gotta be long enough to deserve a promotion. Why am I just the delivery guy? I could be your prophet.' And He just laughs at me an' says 'Oh Wiley-kins, we both know you're not just the delivery guy! You're the face of the entire company! Didn't you do so well in that little advertisment we made! Also if you question me again you'll pay for it,' and I mean sure, He's right, that commercial was a masterpiece. You know I directed the whole thing too? Fake beard was pretty uncomfortable but I think I pulled it off. Anyway, so now I've gotta get all these dolls delivered by Friday and start the apocalpse or I'm - well, not fired exactly, but I don't think you wanna wanna wanna hear the details. Hey Johnny are you even listenin'? Or are you just gonna point that gun at me and stare-

[urhoneycombwitch]

you oughta know: part I

Spring Break

series masterlist

foreword: since Eddie Munson is our collective Ken doll to dress up as we please I present to you my new and improved: dirtbag!college!Eddie. now with 50% more tattoos and a splash of 90s grunge college academia aesthetic.

cw: drinking, intoxication, R has breasts, R and Eddie are slut4slut in this

___

The bass on this houseparty’s stereo pumps through the floorboards, rattling every wall of the building. Hiding out in the less-stimulating kitchen seems like a good option for tonight.

Apparently, this other guy thinks so, too, ‘cuz soon it’s just you and him across the counter from another. He’s handsome, actually. Moonlight from a window above the sink highlights strong cheekbones and a sharp cupid’s bow as he helps himself to a glass from the cupboard.

Slinking out from elbow-rolled shirtsleeves are thick, dark vine tattoos; they wind around his forearms, smattered with hair and freckles, the ink trailing to end at his wrists.

You lean forward onto the counter separating you two (well aware that you’re spilling out of your top), then tip the neck of your beer bottle at him- “Eddie?”

He spins to face you, raises a pretty brow, long lashes sweeping over auburn eyes- “Uh- maybe? Who wants to know, dollface.”

A scrunch of distaste with your nose at the nickname, you barrel through the discomfort- “Oh, I thought it might be you. I’m Robin’s roommate. She said her weed guy had cool tattoos.”

The guy’s face lights up with a lopsided smile, dimples peeking out as he preens, “So you think they’re cool?”

You roll your eyes, take an unamused sip of beer, press a bit further into your hands on the counter. A little thrill at your small victory- his eyes flicking down once, twice, to your cleavage- you ride the alcohol-gifted looseness and adrenaline. “Psst. Hey. My eyes are up here, perv.”

It’s a tease. A goad masked as chiding. Eddie sets his glass of water down, doe eyes fixed on yours, not falling for the trap of your quick inhale- “You seriously sayin’ that to me, when you’re the one with your tits out?”

He tsks, walks those big boots over, leanin’ in to your counter space, close enough to smell the spice of his cologne- “Would almost think you like the attention.”

You swallow hard. Hold your ground, looking up at him through your lashes, bust still on display- “Yeah, and you’d probably like to be the one to give it to me. In your dreams, pal.”

It’s getting harder to play hard-to-get as Eddie bumps his hip against yours. The whites of his eyes are slightly bloodshot (you can smell the heady undercurrent of weed wafting from his clothes), while the black of his pupils are already blown out with feverish lust. “C’mon, have a heart, angel. Can’t fault a boy for dreamin’.”

And goddammit if you don’t melt for that line. (He really is a rather great lyricist, as you’ll come to find out this upcoming semester.)

In retrospect, you’ll never admit it, but you did make the first move- pressed him right up against Linda Satler’s kitchen counter and kissed him, with tongue. Robin walked in on the two of you and got in a full shriek before either of you realized someone else had come in, jumping apart like two children caught arms-deep in a cookie jar.

“God, gross,” she gags, louder than the wave of sound flooding in from the open door. She crosses the room in a few swift strides and plucks at your elbow, a reproachful whisper- “I sent you to get weed, not to make out with the dealer!”

“I am getting weed, Robin,” you insist, patient but firm, pulling from her grasp to turn back to Eddie, teeth worrying at your bottom lip that shimmers with mixed saliva as you ask, sweet and simply- “Can I please have some weed?”

It wasn’t actually your plan to butter Eddie up for a better price (another fact you’d remain stoically opposed to, later), but he gave it to you, all the same- a laughably low amount for a bundle of pre-rolls.

Robin’s eyes bug out at the amount he hands it over- then she smoothly pockets the goods and pats you on the shoulder. “Okay. My mistake. I actually love that you’re both getting acquainted in this manner. You have my blessing to do it a bunch more, just- not when I’m in the room. M’kay?”

She grins cheekily at Eddie before looping her arm in yours, pulling you with her towards the door- you call out before it closes behind you both, “Robin’s number is our landline! You can call me there, if you want!”

Eddie stands still for a few moments after you’re swallowed up by the noise of the party, palm flat to the twinge in his chest. Cupid’s arrow, he can feel it sinking in.

He’s an RA, this semester. Really can’t afford to be seeing cute girls and selling them weed- at least, not at the same time. Gotta straighten up a bit over Spring Break, he thinks.

Then he cracks the window open. Lights up a joint. Smokes out into the fresh night air and tries really hard to think of anything other than your tits. (A game of mostly losses.)

[atinylittlepain]

Hi! I hope you’re well! I have a Joel request please!Reader collects keychains from the different states/places she travels. She’s a bit introverted, and she and joel are both quiet and don’t talk too much, nut she’s a good listener. After a close call with a clicker, reader feels like a burden to joel. Joel reassures her that she’s not but she’s still not sure. Joel gives her a keychain that he finds during their travel & it’s a happy ending. Also can there be an age gap lol

Hope this isn’t too much, but please feel free to make any changes/adjustments :)

Thank you!

sweet anon, this idea is so lovely - i hope i've done it justice <3

Pieces of Our Path - A Joel Miller Story

Joel Miller x f!reader

joel miller masterlist

warnings | 18+ canon-typical violence, angst, joel is a ding dong, and then fluff bc it's good for your cholesterol :)

.........................

“I’ll be right back. Wanna go check in that gas station.” “Tell me this ain’t what I think it’s for.” All she can do is smile as a blush creeps up her neck because it is exactly what he thinks it’s for. Joel huffs at her expression.

“I-I haven’t found one for Wyoming yet. Think I oughta get one since we’re living here now and all.” She knows it’s silly, frivolous, maybe even downright stupid, but she’s been collecting them for so long now, finding one for nearly every state they’ve crossed through, that she needs her collection to be complete. 

Joel had often given her an exasperated look when she’d show him a new one she had found, never asking why she held onto all those keychains. They don’t talk much, and she supposes that’s why they’ve worked so well together, managing to get Ellie across the country, and when that went sideways, limping back to Tommy’s place, where they find themselves living now. It’s the first time they’ve been settled anywhere together, ever, and they’ve both been working out their stir-craziness with patrol shifts and scavenging trips. 

“Just make it quick, alright? I’ll cover the outside. You holler if you need me.” She nods at his gruff words, already hustling over to the crumbling gas station and shouldering her way in through the rusted door. It’s dark inside, slants of light pock-marking the mossy tiles and shelves. Her fingers flex around the handle of her knife as she creeps further into the store, moving toward what used to be a checkout counter. After so long on the road, she knows where to look for these things. Joel had once joked that the keychains seemed to find her more than she found them. Sure enough, there’s a few scattered over the floor, but before she can get a better look at them, she’s startled by a loud screech coming from behind her.

It happens so quick, all she can do is let out a yelp as she gets slammed to the ground by an infected, all clawing hands and gnashing teeth as she struggles to keep it at bay. Her knife had skittered out of her hand at the impact, and as she tries to push the creature away with little success, fear starts to creep up her spine that this might be it. Just as suddenly as it attacked her, the creature stiffens before slumping down on top of her, but its body is quickly shoved off of her to reveal Joel standing over her, knife in hand. There’s a frantic look in his eyes that she’s never seen before as he kneels down between her legs and helps her sit up. The rough palms of his hands scurry all over her, checking her neck, her arms, her legs for bites. His face slackens just slightly when he finds no evidence of infection, cupping her face in his palms.

“Are you hurt?” She takes a steadying breath as his eyes hold her in place, her hands wrapped over his forearms.

“I’m ok. Joel, I’m so–” He doesn’t let her finish that sentence.

“C’mon, we need to get out of here.” He helps haul her up on unsteady feet. She feels her stomach drop when she glances back at the mottled body of the clicker, quick to hustle out of the gas station and back onto the road. Joel doesn’t say anything more, an unspoken agreement that they need to head back to Jackson. But she can see the way his hands clench around the strap of his rifle until his knuckles turn white, the hard set of his jaw as he walks alongside her. It doesn’t take a genius to see that Joel Miller is angry, and she knows it’s all her fault.

She spends the whole hike back cursing herself in her mind. She had put herself in danger, and in turn had put Joel in danger, for such a stupid, useless thing. Harsh thoughts are quick to burrow into her head, namely that Joel would be so much better off with someone smarter, more careful, someone older, as his… she’s not even sure what she is to him. They’ve been traveling together for so long now, but she’s hesitant to think of them as anything, even if they do end up tangled in the same bed most nights, something they excused as a simple human need for closeness, nothing more. She supposes that they’ve been a quiet comfort to each other, but not anymore, not now that she’s failed him. 

Anxiety rages on in her mind, and Joel’s icy silence does nothing to assuage it. Even when they get back to Jackson, he won’t so much as look at her, trudging straight to the bar. She lets out a heavy sigh and keeps her head down as she shuffles off in the opposite direction toward their house.

It’s quiet when she gets home, and she figures Ellie must be out on her own shift still. She goes straight to her room, the room she has been spending so little time in, Joel usually coaxing her into his bed because they both sleep better with each other near. She had stashed the other keychains in a crumpled shoebox she found in the closet, and would often get it out to thumb through the evidence of her wanderings. Normally, it was a comfort to her, being able to trace her past in these plastic relics, but now, looking in the box, all she feels is sick to her stomach. She shoves the box back into the closet, slamming the door shut and swallowing hard around the thick heat building in her throat.

A wave of exhaustion passes over her, the adrenaline from her close encounter finally wearing off, and it’s all she can do to collapse onto her bed in a tight curl as the first tears start to fall.

..,

She wakes with a start, light hands shaking her shoulder, and as she squints her eyes open, she finds Ellie hovering over her, a furrowed look of worry across her face. She lets out a ragged sigh as she sits up, Ellie leaning back on the bed.

“Are you alright?” She presses the heels of her hands into her eyes, bloodshot and tired from crying, but she nods at Ellie’s question.

“I’m fine, kid. Just tired, that’s all.” Ellie clearly doesn’t buy that, eyebrows shooting up at her.

“You sure about that? Saw the old man down at the bar, and you and I both know he only goes there when he’s really pissed.” She huffs, shaking her head and wishing Ellie didn’t know her and Joel so well.

“We had a bad shift. I, um, did something stupid.” Silence settles over them after she finishes murmuring her answer, but Ellie is quick to break it.

“Whatever it was, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. You want me to go talk to him? I can knock a little sense into his head.” She rests her hand on Ellie’s knee and offers her a small smile.

“That’s alright, kid. Um, it was pretty bad. We’re both ok– but, yeah– it was bad. Joel’s right to be angry at me.” Ellie settles down, pressing her lips into a thin line as she nods.

“Well,  I’m glad you’re alright at least. Do you need anything? Is there anything I can do?” Her smile broadens at the girl’s words. Ellie had been and continues to be a bright spot in her world, and she muses briefly that if not for her, she would have already packed up and skipped town this afternoon, something she thinks would certainly be welcomed by Joel.

“No, I’ll be ok, kid, but thank you. Think I’m just gonna lay low tonight.” The girl bites her lip, clearly not convinced by her words, but she still nods.

“Um, ok. Well, in that case, is it alright if I go to movie night tonight?” 

“Is Dina gonna be there?” Ellie’s grin is contagious, and she laughs lightly at the girl’s flushed reaction.

“It’s alright kid, you should go. Just be safe, huh?” Ellie surprises her just a little with her quick hug before she gets up off the bed, digging her hands into her jean pockets.

“I’m glad you’re alright. And, Joel’s just– emotionally constipated, you know? I’m sure he’s not really mad at you, he’s just acting like it. But he’ll calm down. He likes you too much to be such an asshole to you for long.” That makes her really laugh, and the feeling is a relief, a weight off her chest, if even just briefly.

“Thanks for that, kid. You should go, they’re gonna start the movie soon I bet.” Ellie offers her one more smile before leaving. She slumps back in bed the moment she hears the front door close.

…

It’s much later when she’s woken up again by much harsher hands jostling her. It’s completely dark in her room, and she groans as she fumbles to switch on the lamp on her nightstand. She certainly wasn’t expecting to see a clearly drunk Joel Miller hovering over her. 

“Why’re you in here?” His words are thick and slurred, his southern accent tugging low in his throat to the point she can just make out what he’s saying. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes watery and wavering as he looks at her. She’s never seen him this drunk before.

“I-I was getting some sleep. Joel, how much have you ha–” She’s cut off as he slumps over her where he had been sitting on the edge of the bed, his cheek smushing into her collarbone and the mussed waves of his hair grazing her chin. His words are even more slurred as he speaks now, hot breaths fanning over her throat.

“Y’never sleep in here. Wan’ you with me. Should always be with me.” He hiccups at the end of his words, jolting her in his heavy hold as he lets out a long sigh. She’s never seen him like this and has to swallow the shock sitting in her throat as he continues to mumble to her.

“Scared me so bad today. Don– don’t do that again. Need– need you– I need you.” It’s breaking her heart, listening to him say these things– things she had often imagined hearing him say to her– but only because he’s drunk enough to not give a shit. She huffs, tamping down her sadness and instead letting anger simmer in its place. She presses hard on his shoulders to sit him back up as he grumbles at the movement, his head slumping back on his neck to look at her as she stands up.

“Where you going, pretty? Jus’ stay with me.” He practically whines out the last word, and she’s heard enough. She dips under his one arm to hoist him up off the bed, stumbling a bit as he leans most of his weight on her.

“C’mon, Joel. I’m gonna get you to bed.” He huffs as they start to shuffle down the hallway to his room.

“Will you stay with me, darlin? Ple– please.” Now she knows he must be drunk off his head, because in all her time knowing him, she has never once heard Joel Miller say the word please until tonight. She grits her teeth, hauling them both through the doorway to his bedroom.

“I’ll stay with you, alright? Just– just sit down.” She gracelessly plops him on the side of the bed, a hard “oof” leaving his mouth as he sits down. She moves over to his bathroom to get him a glass of water, having swatted away his grabby hands with a murmured “be right back.” 

By the time she comes back into the bedroom, she finds Joel slumped back on the bed, his legs dangling off the edge as he snores lightly. She sighs, setting down the glass before moving over to him and taking off his boots. He mumbles nonsense as she swings his legs up onto the bed, folding the comforter over to cover him up as best she can. 

She doesn’t stay.

…

It’s late the next morning when she finally goes downstairs. It had been a fitful night of sleep, and she had gone back to Joel’s room a few times to check on him, finding him still passed out each time. She stops by his door on the way downstairs and sees that he’s no longer in bed. Padding into the kitchen, she finds coffee brewed, but no sign of him or Ellie. She figures Ellie spent the night with Dina, but is still left wondering where Joel could be. As she shuffles through the house, she finally catches a glimpse of him in the living room window, sitting on the porch out back. She has to take a steadying breath before she steps outside.

He doesn’t say anything as she sits down next to him, neither of them glancing each other’s way. 

“How’s your head?” He scoffs, still not looking at her as she glances at him.

“About how you’d expect. Suppose I deserve it though.” She doesn’t say anything to that, keeping her eyes focused on her fidgeting hands in her lap. It feels like there’s cotton in her mouth, she keeps trying to say something else, but gets stuck before she can even get the first word out. Luckily, Joel breaks the silence again.

“Need to apologize. Acted a fucking fool last night and you shouldn’t have had to deal with that.” She swallows thickly before responding, her voice an uncertain murmur.

“I-it’s alright. I’m sorry too– for yesterday.” He finally looks at her, brow furrowed.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“Yes I do. You wouldn’t have had a reason to drink so much if I hadn’t fucked up so badly yesterday. I understand. I’d be angry too.” His face slackens at her words and she can barely meet his unwavering gaze.

“What’re you talking about? I wasn’t angry– I was fucking terrified. Seeing you– I just– I couldn’t– fuck, the thought of something happening to you– I was shaken. And I handled it like an idiot, and I’m sorry.”

“Maybe you’d be better off without me then.” A heavy silence falls, but Joel quickly breaks it with a scoff.

“Don’t say shit like that.”

“I mean it.” “Well don’t. I wouldn’t be better off without you, goddamn it. I’d fall apart if I lost you.” Sober, this is the most he’s ever said about how he feels for her, and it makes her heart race in her chest.

She’s been keeping her eyes on her lap, but is forced to look at him as he turns her face toward him with a broad palm along the arc of her jaw. His eyes are soft, searching, and it’s all she can do to let out a sigh of his name.

“I can’t lose you, darlin. Pfft, better off without you. I’d be hopeless without you, huh?” She gathers up whatever courage she has in her, bringing her hand to the arc of his neck to coax him closer as she leans in. It’s a fluttering little thing of a kiss, her lips barely brushing his before she’s jerking away, but Joel steadies her with his hand still cupping her cheek, thumb brushing just under her eye.

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ha–” he surges forward and this kiss is certain in what it demands, what it means. She all but melts under his touch, mind hazy when he pulls away and presses his forehead to hers.

“I’m old– and no good for you– but fuck, I’m selfish, darlin. And I need you. Tell me you’ll stay with me, please.” There it is again, that rare word. She smiles.

“I-I need you too, Joel. I’ll stay. I’ll always stay with you.” He presses another kiss to her lips, both of them grinning into it before sitting back as he wraps his arm around her shoulders to tug her into his side.

“I, um, I have something for you.” She cranes her neck to look at him with a furrowed expression. He huffs as he digs into the front pocket of his jeans, holding his palm out flat in front of her. When she sees what he’s holding, she lets out a spluttering laugh. It’s a keychain, in the shape of Wyoming.

“When did you–”

“I picked it up as we were getting out of there. Figured it shouldn’t be for nothing, right?” She laughs again, shaking her head at the smug grin on his face. 

She lays her palm over his, tangling their fingers together with the keychain pressed between their hands. They smile like idiots at each other. She knows that wherever the next keychain comes from, she can count on Joel Miller being there with her.

[chaostroberry1]

I would like to request another yandere please

Like what you did for Apollo but for Nikola Tesla please

.

.

.

PLEASSSSSSS I BEG OF YOU I NEED ITTT PKEASEEEEE 😭😭😭😭😭

The man has barely any media and I'm pretty sure he will never even get a sub plot but okeaseeeeeee I beggggg I beg on my knees for content of him pleaseeeeeee I begggggg of youuuuuu

Ofc! Nikola Tesla 🔛🔝

Yandere Nikola Tesla × Reader

Tesla's love calculations | by chaostroberry1 (loading...)

Love isn't a good enough word for how I feel. | Tesla's love calculations

- I'd say you were a janitor, who'd always clean up after him and all of the workers mess. You could say you even cleaned up exhausted workers who were incredibly tired after using up their brain power.

- but, not only that, you had a sweet crush on the main man. One who did not care about resting. Always using his brain whenever it came to new ideas that he believed he could create.

- he never noticed you, he was too busy with his work. And had already shown that he didn't really have given for that type of stuff. It's sad, but you had to get over it. You can't force someone to love some nobody like you.

- What you weren't aware of, was the fact that he also felt the same way. He just didn't understand his feelings yet. But that was all until he saw you interact in a little conversation with one of the men there. It just struck his heart with negativity for some reason, and he didn't understand.

- he had to think long and hard before finally realizing it after one of the dudes beside him noticed his jealous gaze, suddenly calling him out and asking if he wanted to be the one talking to you instead. Of course..how could he not have realized it before? He was in love! Or was it even love..?

- his fellow workers caught on after word spread around, obviously not to you, but almost everyone working with the mad scientist. And do not deny it, I KNOW they gossip. They oughta be snickering when they see Tesla eyeing someone out of jealousy that they were talking to you. Oh man, that was some real drama right there.

- if you look closely, he has a few books that he's been reading. About love, and all. Such a sweetheart he was...or not. (I'm sorry for edging y'all so much.)

- he came across one book that talked about the difference of love and obssession, and it really caught his eye. Making him buy it immediately and then reading about it.

- It was a poorly made book. The pages were torn and made of low quality materials. But that didn't stop him. The book perfectly described his feelings towards you, and it came to be such a surprise to him when he saw that ot was a sign of really unhealthy love. He had to read it over and over again, wanting to believe that maybe it was just a misunderstanding. But it wasn't. Whoever wrote it knew very well what they were doing.

- the next day, he avoided talking to you as much as he could. The man only wanted to make inventions, he didn't care about things like love. But oh boy was it so difficult to keep his eyes off you. The prettiest thing he saw and felt, it was undescribable. When you got the idea that he hated you, it ended with you talking to him less. And he did not like that.

- he caught you talking to another guy, a janitor who you've been talking to for the past few weeks now. And I am not kidding when I say that all the workers there saw the bitter look on Tesla's face. You thought it would end there, right? Wrong. A day passes, and you find out that the same guy you talked to, had ended up passing due to getting too close to one of the inventions. In Tesla's defence, he had told the guy not to touch any buttons, but the guy ended up doing so anyway, which is unbelievable. But you had no choice but to listen anyway.

- the real story was that the guy tried to clean the invention, which was made by the dear scientist, who made sure to program it as a bomb. Strong enough to kill anything once it's ready to explode. Tesla knew this, it was his plan all along to get rid of that pest, without putting suspicion on his name. And it worked! Good for him.

- finally, he confessed his love for you. Which you happily agreed to. Because you were just a little dummy who didn't know any better. That's why you were better off with him, cus he was smarter, and knew what was good for you.

- you won't even realize his growing possessiveness, not even when he gave such a bitter face to the people who are around you. Would you believe me if I said that he even thought of lying to you that a life threatening world ending virus was spreading and he had to lock you up forever to keep you safe? Let's be happy that he didn't go through with that. He's not THAT bad.

- he loves having you around whenever he's working on something, just so that when his eyes get tired from looking at the board, he can look back at you and immediately get an energy boost.

- he was such a sweetheart and he loved you so much. It was best of you just didn't know his secret side when it came to you. He barely let's you out. He'd drag you around to show you new things or ideas he came up with, and even asked you if you wanted anything made just for you.

- he won't ever let you out unless it was necessary. Like maybe a fire, or evacuating to somewhere safe.

- Expect him to ask for your opinion on basically anything. Just so that he can interrupt your thoughts from going anywhere near the idea of leaving.

- when you and him do it for the every first time, man was he addicted. It's like anytime he's stressed after work, he immediately gets on you so that you could relieve him. He's nice, don't worry. He's very romantic too.

- I can also believe that he'd make good pickup lines. Like geek typa shit that you wouldn't understand. But that's okay, it's Tesla. Your loving husband.

- Promise him that you'd stay with him forever. Don't ever make him think you'd leave. You know what happened to your friend right? He'll threaten to do stuff like that in the future if there really was no other way to convince you.

___

@gayerthanthegays here you go!! Luv some Nikola Tesla content 😍

[agent-whiskeys-sweetheart]

Oxytocin

Pairing: Egon Spengler x F!Reader

Summary: While looking for a new research assistant Egon finds you, a parapsychologist whose always wanted to be a Ghostbuster. Little did you both know that there would be a lot more than research and ghostbusting that would bring the two of you together. 

Warnings: None! Just fluff. 

A/N: Bare with me y’all. I’m really trying to get back into writing so I can answer some requests that I have. Please be patient, I promise I haven’t forgotten. I just need to get back my gumption for creating things. Thank you for understanding and I love you all!

“Venkman. Venkman, you’re getting distracted again. Would you please come into the lab?” Egon calls from the threshold of his workspace. Peter turns, jogging over to the lab and finding a rather uncomfortable bench to take up residence on as the two men talked. The first closed the doors, making his way to the work table. 

“Geez, Spengs. You know, you really oughta get more comfortable furniture in here. No wonder you’re so cranky all the time.” 

“I’m not cranky.” Was all Egon could say in return as he picks up a stack of papers, handing them over to Peter. “Now, I want you to look at this research I’ve been conducting. In the New York area alone paranormal activity has nearly tripled in just the last few weeks. This is getting dangerous, Venkman. I’m not sure how but I know the slime is connected to all this. I just need more time and more hands to be able to finish my research.” Peter tilts his head to the side.

“So what do you need? A bottle of whiskey to keep you up at night?” 

“You know I don’t drink, Venkman.” Egon says, scolding mildly. “No, I need a research assistant to help me conduct my experiments.” 

“Doesn’t Ray help you out?” Peter asks, picking up a tool on the edge of the nearby table and twirling it between his fingers. Almost as soon as he does so Egon reaches out, taking the tool into his hand and setting it back down so that Venkman will actually pay attention.

“Ray is great and he knows his stuff but he’s not always here. I need someone reliable who will be at my beck and call until we can figure out exactly what’s going on with this slime.” He insists. 

“Alright. I get it. You need an assistant. Consider it done buddy.” Peter says, hopping off the bench and strolling towards the door. 

“Now, Peter. I want to hold the interviews myself. I just need the money to pay whoever I find to add on to the team.” 

“The money is yours pal.” He calls back as he finally makes his way out the door. Egon can’t help but roll his eyes at Peter’s seeming lack of caring for his current predicament. However, he pushes past those feelings, knowing that the man meant nothing by his apparent boredom. That’s just how Venkman always was. Nothing that could be done now. With the final approval from Peter, Egon set about writing out an advertisement for the papers to be posted ASAP. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Scientist Seeking Research Assistant! Matter Is Urgent, Will Pay For Help. Come To The Ghostbusters Headquarters For More Information. Interviews Being Held During Normal Business Hours. 

The ad was short, sweet, and to the point. Maybe that was what drew you to it. You didn’t need any hassle in your life right now. Just a paying gig that would fit into your schedule. Then again, there was that word. Ghostbusters. You may not have wanted to admit it, but that was really what drew you to this particular ad. That one word. Your entire life you had always loved learning about the paranormal. Of course your family hated your fascinations. They found them to be blasphemous and unholy. That never stopped you though. As soon as you had the opportunity to go to school, you finally found your place among other parapsychologists and you never wanted to go back. 

Just as you were finishing up your last year of school, you started seeing the ads on TV. A group of paranormal experts that called themselves the Ghostbusters became all you thought about. You tracked their every move, studied their work religiously. They were doing exactly what you’d always wanted to do. Catching ghosts. What a thrill that would be. Ever since, you’d made it your life’s mission to become a part of that team. Now, here was your in. You may not be a Ghostbuster but you were good at research and if you could use that knowledge to help then by god, you were going to. 

As you made your way out of your bed, you pulled on the most respectable looking ensemble you could find. Black pants, a nice blouse, and a black blazer. Simple but professional. Just what you were going for. You wanted to show them you were exactly the person they were looking for. Filled to the brim with excitement you left the house without even stopping to eat. That could wait. The Ghostbusters could not. As soon as you were able to hail a cab, you sped off down the busy New York streets for the old Firehouse. When you arrived you were completely starstruck. You’d seen it so many times but you’d never actually set foot inside and now was your chance. You gave the door a good tug, stepping into the building.

Inside the lights were dim, barely lighting your way as you looked for the front desk. It was just ahead of you, more illuminated than the walkway. There didn’t seem to be much natural lighting but frankly, you didn’t mind. Behind the desk sat a woman with a short auburn bob, flipping through a magazine. You stood as tall as you could and gave her a nod when she looked up at you. 

“Hello. My name is Y/N L/N and I’m here about the research assistant position.” Upon hearing your words the woman leans back in her chair and yells out a name towards the back of the Firehouse. 

“Egon will be here to interview you in a moment.” She says with a smile before going back to her magazine. With that you waited, taking in your surroundings. That is until a tall man with fluffy brunette hair stepped out from the back, walking in your direction. His eyes lit up when he saw you, like you were an old friend. 

“Hello, I’m Dr. Egon Spengler. Can I assume you’re here about the research assistant position?” He says with excitement. 

“Yes, I am!” You return his enthusiasm as he reaches out to shake your hand. You take it, feeling his soft palm against your own. 

“Excellent. Just excellent. I’ll be conducting the interview in my lab. Follow me please.” He opens up the small gate for you that leads into the back rooms of the Firehouse. You happily step through, feeling like you were finally a part of their world. He directs you right back to the lab, opening that door for you as well. What a gentleman he was. It made you grin to yourself as you finally stepped into his lab. There were several work tables that were neatly piled with tools and beakers filled with chemicals. Notepads with various notes on them laid strewn about. His handwriting was very neat and you could read each word perfectly. The combination of chaos and order surprised you but this was definitely an environment you could work in.

Dr. Spengler offered you a seat on the couch against the far wall, rolling over a chair for himself. You sat down quickly, eager to begin. 

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to jump right into things. You’re about the tenth person I’ve had in here this week and I’m very eager to move this process along.” You nod in agreement, ready for whatever questions he might have for you. “Good. Why don’t you tell me about your experience in the field? What are your qualifications?” 

“Well, I actually attended Columbia University for a number of years and received my degree in parapsychology. I’ve completed a great number of research assignments in my time there and I went on to conduct some of my own research funded by the University.” 

“Odd. My colleagues and I were actually in a very similar situation a few years back. Small world I suppose. What research were you conducting?” He leaned forward, hanging on your every word. 

“Well, I was performing some studies to determine the spike in paranormal activity in the New York area opposed to other states in the country. There has been almost triple activity in this area even just over the last several weeks and frankly, I’d like to know why.” 

“Another incredible coincidence. That’s exactly what I’m researching. I have some leads but nothing has been determined yet. That’s why I need help. I don’t have the hands or the time to do all this myself.” 

“I understand. I couldn’t determine anything either, especially since I was forcibly removed from the University last week.” 

“The more you speak, the more I feel like this is a perfect arrangement.” He adds with a self satisfied smile. “You’re much like my colleagues and I in many ways. I’m very intrigued to find out what your mind has to offer. How early can you start?”

“I can start right now!” You say, a little too exuberantly. 

“I greatly appreciate your initiative and enthusiasm. Two very underrated qualities in the world of science. You can’t just do it because you must. You have to have a passion for it. It seems like that’s something you possess.” His words have you absolutely beaming. Although you have to admit that he has certainly surprised you. Based on the ads you see on TV you’d think Dr. Spengler would be rigid and cold. However, here he is talking about passion and giving off all the warmth and friendliness you can handle. It’s a very welcome change from what you had thought initially. You can’t wait to see what other surprises are in store for you. “Well, since you’re currently available I’d like to catch you up to speed on my research. I can share notes with you. Do you have a notepad handy?” He asks. 

“Always.” You reply smugly, pulling a pad of paper from inside of your bag. This causes an impressed smile to spread on his face as he starts gathering up his notes to show you. As soon as he’s organized, he is off. His information comes at the speed of light but you wouldn’t dare ask him to slow down. You simply keep up to the best of your ability, writing down everything you can to study at home. 

After about an hour of being inches apart while comparing notes, Egon finally sets aside his last notepad. Taking a step back towards his chair you realize that you’re actually quite sad at the loss of warmth. He reclines back, extending an arm to the couch behind you both. You sit again, now recognizing that you’re quite exhausted from the rapid fire work the two of you had been doing for a while.

“Well, I’m quite happy with how today has gone. Needless to say, the job is yours. If you’ll come in every day of the week during our normal business hours, we can get you set up with the proper equipment to continue our research.” Hearing him call it ‘our’ research made your heart flutter. “You’ll have weekends off. I can pay you minimum wage, I hope that is sufficient for your needs.” 

“That works just fine for me.” You add. 

“Good. I’m sorry it couldn’t be more. Do you have any questions?” 

“Yes. Will I ever get an opportunity to meet your colleagues or will it always be you and I working together?” 

“Oh yes, you’ll certainly meet the others. When Ray isn’t busy on jobs he usually spends time here, working in the lab. You’ll most definitely cross paths with him. As for Venkman and Winston, I’ll introduce you. Since you are a part of the team now.” Hearing him say that nearly knocked you out of your seat. You’re part of the team now. 

“Wonderful. Well, I don’t think I had any other questions.” 

“Excellent. If you do think of something don’t hesitate to give me a call. I’ll give you my number so that you can do so should you feel the need.” He stands and writes down his phone number on a slip of paper, handing it to you as you stand too. “Well, I won’t wear you out on your first day. You’re free to go but I will see you tomorrow.” 

“Yes! Definitely. See you tomorrow.” With that he leads you back to where you entered from, seeing you off as you run outside to hail a cab. On the ride back to your apartment it’s all you can do not to scream out of sheer excitement. You were finally doing it. Making your dreams come true. You were almost sure that’s all it was, a dream. However, you knew that this was your reality now. Working with the Ghostbusters, doing exactly what you’d been training your whole life for. God, you couldn’t wait for tomorrow to come.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You slept poorly, tossing and turning with excitement all night. When your alarm finally went off you jumped out of bed without a moment of hesitation. You had already picked out your outfit the night before, slipping it on as you headed for the door. Once again you did not eat breakfast, too ecstatic to ingest anything. Once you hailed a cab you were off, headed for your new workplace yet again.  

When you headed into the Firehouse you were immediately greeted by Egon, who was standing right inside the door. As soon as he saw you he checked his watch. “You’re early. That’s excellent. With all the work we must get done, it’s important that you’re here as soon as you can be every day.” You nodded as you walked towards the lab.

“You know what they say! Early is on time, on time is late.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” He adds, straightening his lab coat. “Now, I do want to prepare you. My colleagues are all waiting for us in the lab. I wanted to introduce you to all of them and catch them up to speed on our current research. They won’t be around long so don’t worry.” 

Little did Egon know you were far from worried. After years of following their work you were on the verge of meeting all of the Ghostbusters. You couldn’t wait. Yet you knew you had to stay calm. 

When you finally stepped into the lab you saw that they were all crowded around a beaker of slime which sat on a workbench, watching it curiously. None of them dared touch it until Egon had arrived. Once you both came into view all three of them perked up, exchanging happy little smiles at the sight of you. You took up residence on the other side of the workbench, trying to contain yourself. Egon stood beside you and you looked at him expectantly. 

“Gentlemen, I’d like to introduce you to Y/N L/N. My research assistant. I believe she’ll make a strong addition to the team.” You beamed proudly at the introduction. “Y/N, this is Winston Zeddemore, Peter Venkman, and Ray Stantz. My colleagues.” 

You extended your hand to the first one in line, Winston. He took it happily. You went down the line like that as they all shook your hand. 

“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you Miss L/N.” Ray was first to speak.

“Please, feel free to call me Y/N.” You add. 

“Well, Y/N,” Peter was next. “It is nice to meet you. Although I’m highly doubtful that you’re any kind of scientist.” 

“Peter, I’ve heavily vetted her myself. She is--” Before Egon could finish defending you, the man continued his statement. 

“I only mean that I just don’t think pretty scientists exist. I mean, take a look at this ugly mug.” He says with a laugh, pinching Egon’s cheeks in his hand. “You are far too beautiful to be a scientist.” 

You look up at the man beside you who shares an annoyed glance down at you. You would never admit it but you highly disagreed with Peter. Egon was one of the most handsome men you’d ever laid eyes on. You’d have to be blind not to notice his beautiful features. Of course the thought made you blush so you pushed it away, reengaging with Venkman. “Well, thank you but I can assure you I’m highly qualified for this work. Trust me, I can get the job done.” 

“Well, I’m looking forward to seeing just how efficient you are.” He said, giving you a little grin. You knew that he had meant something naughty by the way he’d said it so you simply chose to ignore him. 

“I for one am glad to have you on the team.” Winston added. “It’ll be nice not to be the new kid around here for once.” 

“Me too!” Ray said. “I’m excited to have you around the lab. We’ll be working together every now and again. Can’t wait to get to know you.” His response was heartfelt and you couldn’t help but smile. 

“Now that introductions are out of the way,” Egon began. “We’d like to show you what we’re working on.” He prompted Ray, who had helped to begin this research. The man moved the container of slime into the middle of the nearby work table. Everyone crowded around, including you. You were very intrigued to see what research had been conducted thus far. Egon had told you all about the slime the day before but you hadn’t gotten a chance to see it. Now you were going to get a good look at what it was really capable of. 

“Watch this. Go ahead Ray.” Egon began. 

“You! You worthless piece of slime.” Ray yells. As he does so, the slime begins to bubble. Only slightly but enough for you all to notice. “You ignorant disgusting blob!” He continues. 

“You’re nothing but an unstable short-chain molecule!” Egon adds. 

“You foul obnoxious muck.” 

“You have a weak electrochemical bond.” As the two take turns yelling at the slime it bubbles further, getting closer and closer to the top of the container. 

“I have seen some disgusting crud in my time, but you take the cake! You--” As Ray begins to get out of hand, the other three rein him back in. The sight of the young scientist getting so invested in the bubbling slime makes you giggle a bit, unable to stop yourself. 

“This is what you do with your spare time?” Peter asks. 

“Peter, this is an incredible breakthrough. I mean, what a discovery! A psycho-reactive substance. Whatever this stuff is, it responds to human emotional states.” You eye the slime, utterly fascinated.

“Mood slime.” Peter chimes in, simplifying the whole discovery down to a much more manageable but seemingly accurate term. “Oh baby.” He adds in a seductive tone as he leans down towards the container, backing away quickly when the slime bubbles again. 

“You mean this stuff actually feeds on bad vibes?” Winston asks. 

“Like a cop in a donut factory.” Ray affirms.

“We’ve been running tests to see if we can get an equally strong positive reaction.” Egon says, nodding his head at the group.

“What kind of test?” Peter asks after a brief pause. 

“Well, we sing to it, and we talk to it, and say supportive, nurturing things to it.” Ray adds with a tinge of embarrassment. 

“You’re not sleeping with it, are you, Ray?” Venkman can’t help but joke. However, as soon as he says it there is a palpable tension between Egon and Ray. The two exchange a glance and you can’t help but notice the blush that comes to Egon’s face. Winston and Peter join you in looking at Egon. That’s when you all come to the same realization at the same moment.  “Oh you.” 

“It’s always the quiet ones.” Winston says incredulously. 

“You hound!” Venkman adds, holding in a laugh. Egon quickly clears his throat and begins to get up from his seat. 

“How about the kinetic tests?” Everyone walks across the room behind him but your mind wanders to that little comment. What could that have possibly meant? After only a day of knowing Egon, you found your mind wandering to the thought of what he got up to you in those hours of the day when he was by himself. Ashamed by your dirty mind, you brush the thoughts away and join the others. 

The next set of tests are particularly impressive and give you great insight into the slime. They took a small drizzle of slime and poured it into the open end of a toaster, setting it up on the table for all to see. After blasting some Jackie Wilson the toaster begins to pop and dance, making you all laugh. Once the two are done showing off their experiments the others vacate, leaving you and Egon alone. 

“I’d like to continue my experimentation on the slime. I’d like you to help me take notes and observe for now.” He instructs. 

“Yes, of course.” You pull out your personal notepad, getting your pencil ready. He dives right in, playing other kinds of music to see what might affect the slime and in what ways. You obediently take notes of its behavior, curious to see what will get it going. 

After another hour of work, Egon excuses himself briefly which leaves you in the lab completely by yourself. You cradle the notepad to your chest, watching the slime for a brief moment. Looking around to make sure you are truly alone, you take a step closer. A thought pops into your head. Rather than waiting for Egon, you decide to test your little theory for yourself. Clearing your throat, you start to sing the song that had played over the speaker earlier. “I said your love keeps lifting me higher. Higher and higher, higher.” You croon. As you do so the toaster bubbles and pops twice as much as it did before. 

“Magnificent!” Egon exclaims. You jump back, ending the song once you know he’s there. “I didn’t expect such a reaction but I suppose it makes sense that the slime would react more strongly to a beautiful voice. I’m afraid Ray and I aren’t really singers.” He immediately begins writing things down and you look over his shoulder, seeing if you had taken the same notes. “Sing to it again. I’d love to observe.” 

Now that you have to perform on the spot you’re suddenly quite nervous. You didn’t sing anywhere but the shower so this was very nerve wracking. Especially since you had already taken such a strong liking to the man who was now beside you. You wanted to impress him. Once again you clear your throat and start singing. The reaction is immediate, the toaster jumping to life at the sound of your voice. As you sang you couldn’t help but recall that Egon said you had a beautiful voice. For some reason the compliment made you blush.

After a moment you stopped however Egon kept writing, simply murmuring to himself. “Excellent. Absolutely outstanding.” He says before turning to look at you. “You’re already making terrific contributions to the research. Thank you.” You nod your head shyly. 

“I’m just glad I can help.” You say with an earnest smile. 

“Well, I think we’ve discovered a great deal. I look forward to seeing what tomorrow has in store. You’re free to head home for the day.” He says, turning away from you to continue writing things down. 

“Oh. Okay. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” You can’t help how disappointed you feel that the day is over already. You could have stayed there in that lab with Egon for hours. However, you didn’t want to overstay your welcome so you grabbed your things and headed out the door. Once you were on the sidewalk you couldn’t help but let out a little squeal of happiness. This was everything you had hoped it would be. And more. After meeting Egon it was much better than you had even dreamed it. It was all you could do not to jump for joy but you contained yourself, hailing a cab. As great as today was, you couldn’t wait for more of this fascinating experimentation. Of course that’s not all you wanted more of but you’d never say it out loud. Heading home, you decided to get an early jump on sleeping so that the next day would come sooner. That night you dreamt of ghosts and research and science and Egon. 

Tags: @localsimpmigraine​ @theespookybitch​ @twinkie-buttercream​ @fizzyfazzy420​ @boneless07​ @holewithinahole​ @spengler-in-a-jar​ @the-hidden-pages​ @the-mechanical-angel​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @egonscalculator​ @sporesmoldsfungus​ @tedesquire​ @killerheelsonadiscodancefloor @emeraldborealis​ @bisexual-thoughtss​ @notquitecanon​ @finniestoncrane​ @lonelyridesinecto-one​ ​​@tinyvesselhearts

[reds-writings]

i love your blog more than i’ve loved anything on earth before.. can you maybe write something about 1995 rust and reader working a late night together and taking an awkward and romantically charged truck ride to the bar together?? oh im a fool for some good old yearning. hope you’re doing well i love what ya do

ahhh! thank you so much! i too love some good ol' yearning so i whipped some up quick! enjoy, darlin! (this takes place in the middle of the first of many and the start of something new and jj)

“We oughta call it a night.” Your voice rang out in the empty space of the precinct. It had to be bordering nine thirty and your body was begging for release from your hunched-over position, having been pouring over a surplus of articles for the past couple of hours. The slope of Rust’s shoulders jerked slightly as if forgetting where he was or that you had decided to hang back with him in the first place.

“Time is it?” He rumbled out, using the heel of his palm to rub at a tired eye. 

“9:37. You good to drop me off still?” You replied after a quick glance at your wrist. Your truck was still in the shop but you couldn’t complain much if it meant being around Rust a little extra. 

“Don’t worry about it. Sleep decides when it wants to find me. Even then it never really takes hold.” The casual admittance threaded with his perplexing way of describing what troubles him would never fail to bewilder you. 

“Well…if you ain’t sleepin’ anytime soon could you be persuaded to stop for a drink on the way back? My treat.” 

Rust had the humor to snort, a sharp and haughty sound, “If the company you keep makes a lady pay then they’re shit.” 

“The company I keep mostly nowadays consists of Marty and the feral cat taking up residence in my yard every now and then.” 

“Therein lies the problem.”

‘He likes to be spoiled. What can you do.” You shrugged playfully while beginning to gather your things. 

“The cat or Marty?” That finally made you shoot out a laugh and he squashed down the distant desire to preen at your amusement. 

Not fun outside of parties. Fuck you, Marty. 

“We’ll grab a drink or two.” He relinquished. You pumped a fist in the air in a small celebration of victory with a hushed hiss of a ‘yes!’ The day was long and you could use a beer paired with the continued company of the wiry enigma. 

As you mosied over to his truck and hopped in you batted your lashes in what dramatic fashion you could muster through your fatigue, “Free drinks and the voluntary companionship of Mr. Cohle? Gee, did I strike lucky-”

“I don't recall sayin' free.” He lit a cigarette with one hand and began to steer out of the lot with the other. It was concerning how such a mundane act could start to get you all hot and bothered. 

“With you stickin' your nose in my business about what friends I do and don’t have they became free, I believe there was the implication of mighty disdain towards makin’ a lady pay.” A dainty finger wagged in his direction.

“I wasn’t aware I was in the presence of a lady-” The swat of your quick hand at his arm served as an interruption to his bullshitting. He was funny. When he wanted to be. Maybe not hardly ever but sometimes the mood struck whenever the stars decided to align just right. You thought it foolish to think the odds were specifically in your favor during moments like these but seeing him even a little bit at ease couldn’t hold you back from running right into the arms of said foolishness itself. Marty would dub you delusional. He could also kiss your ass.

Plain and simple.

“Because of your outright boorishness, I will be demanding some top-shelf finery tonight.” You half-sassed while he blew smoke from his sloped nose at your theatrics. The way you could go from suppressed and professional to the feisty spitfire sitting beside him now would soon throw him on his ass sooner than preferred. His liability to stop it was growing weaker with each car ride despite everything in his mind screaming to bring it to a severe halt. He wanted you far away from him but wanted you in constant proximity a hairsbreadth more.

“Low shelf. Maybe.”

“Top or bust. Consider it initiation as my new form of company. Just how it goes, friend.” You jokingly admonished and it was considered final.

Friend. He detested the warmth that took siege over his being.

[lovemybluebully]

Masterlist

Thought maybe I oughta make one of these pinned posts so people can find my fics easier. 😁 They are all tickle fics btw so if you don't like that kind of thing then this is not the blog for you. lol They are of the SFW variety though.

Currently obsessed with Deadpool and Wolverine.

Just gonna list my new DP/W fics here below the cut and then put a link to the page with all my other fics. 😎

Listing newest fics at the top here.

All Hail Queen Bea! - After a comment from Logan induces some ticklish consequences, Wade finally gets the confirmation about his friend that he suspected all along. Deadpool and Wolverine-verse M/M

Wakey Wakey - Wade gets Logan out of bed in the best way possible. 🤭 Deadpool and Wolverine-verse M/M

It's For Science - Wade gets it into his head that maybe not all humans have the same number of rib bones. His logic being that since Logan has a shorter body then he may be an exception. Unfortunately for Logan this is far too ticklish of an experiment for him to bear. A small bit of ticklish!deadpool at the end too. Deadpool and Wolverine-verse M/M

Over My Dead Body - Logan just wants to watch the game, but Wade can’t help but mess with him and discovers he’s ticklish in the process. Logan is pissed at first, but eventually comes to terms with the benefits and has a life altering epiphany. Deadpool and Wolverine-verse M/M

A Small Lapse of Judgement - Logan is adjusting to his new residence in Wade’s apartment. And that includes enduring his countless tickle attacks against him. But then Wolvie decides it’s time for a little payback. Deadpool and Wolverine-verse M/M

How To Pet a Wolverine - Wade makes an irresistible discovery about Logan during their brawl inside the van. Deadpool and Wolverine-verse M/M

Here's the drawing I did of Wade tickling Logan. 🤭 I have other tickle art I've posted on here if you look hard enough. lol

And the other one I did here of Wade giving Logan ticklish raspberries to his tummy. Heheh, he likes it. 😊

And below is the link to the rest of my fics. All SFW. Mind you some of them are around 10 years old and may not be written that great so proceed at your own risk. lol I mainly wrote for the cartoon/comic versions of X-men (99% being Wolverine lol I love him 🥰), Venom, Punisher and The Wolf Among Us. Got one random Overwatch story in there too.

Tickle Fics Here! All fluffy, SFW stuff.

I have a Deviantart account as well but warning that there is some NSFW stuff I've posted on there over the years. I am an adult woman and do find tickling to be a kink in very specific situations. 90% I don't though, and I just enjoy tickling as a cute, fun, bonding activity between friends and lovers. I'm not gonna link my DA here. If you're interested, I'm sure you'll be able to find it.

[frvnkcastles]

FOR THE NIGHT ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: When a string of dates ends terribly for you, Frank is there to comfort you through it.

Warnings: S*XUAL ASS*ULT (not by Frank), reader stops the date before it can go all the way, hurt/comfort, feminine nicknames

Word count: 2.6k

Author’s note: I’m back with another heavy one but this was a request and also based on my own experiences, I went through something like this a few weeks ago and I wanted nothing more than Frank to be real and throw hands on my behalf. Sending lots of love to anyone who might relate, you are so strong and so amazing <33

The first time you met Frank, you tried to kiss him by the end of the night. Granted, he was really handsome and you were a little drunk — the latter being why he rejected you with a soft laugh, his hands on your shoulders as he balanced you and bowed his head down so he could lock eyes with you.

”Hey, how ’bout I get ya home, sweetheart?” he suggested over the bustling bar noise, and a bit deflated that the attractive, tall man had turned down a feverish make-out sesh, you nodded in agreement and let him guide you out of the bar. With or without the liquid courage in your system, you would have trusted the Punisher to get you home safe, and he saved you the lecture of giving your keys to a near-stranger.

After that, you didn’t have it in you to try and make a new move. Maybe it had been because you were drunk; maybe it was just an excuse he was relieved to have. Either way, you didn’t want to find out, and so, as your paths kept on crossing, you kept a friendly tone to your words and made sure your fleeting touches didn’t cross the line between platonic and romantic.

”Y’know, I… I don’t really know how to do the whole datin’ thing anymore”, he confessed to you one night while you balanced a bag of ice against the purple corner of his eye. ”Not since, uh… y’know”, he added with a clear of his throat, and you gave him a quick nod to reassure you understood. Therein lied the second reason you avoided coming on too strong — the man had lost his wife, for God’s sakes. How you’d ever try and measure up… you didn’t even dare to wonder.

But that didn’t mean your feelings for him stayed casual. In fact, the more he showed up on your doorstep, the deeper the hole you had gotten yourself in became. Every time he sat down on your couch, brushed at your hand, locked eyes with you, you shovelled yourself further down and you doubted there was a ladder long enough to get you out by now.

As sneaky as you thought you were being, he noticed. And instead of letting it go unmentioned, he confronted you about it.

”Hey, sweetheart… I don’t, uh… I don’t think ’m really worth your time, yeah? Think you oughta find someone better. Someone who ain’t gon’ drag blood through your doorstep every night. Someone who’ll, uh, treat you right. Give you what you deserve”, Frank declared one night, your hands in the middle of wiping blood from his back, and immediately, as if his skin burned, you withdrew from him.

Silence invited itself into your bathroom and you felt hot with embarrassment — and all you could do was deflect. ”You’re the one who keeps coming over”, you whispered, swallowing thickly before adding a quiet, ”I’m done.”

At that, he grabbed his shirt from the edge of the sink, and you forced yourself to look away from the ripple of his muscles when he yanked it over his head. ”Yeah, ’m an asshole for that. I can stop—”, he began, but you cut him off with an exhale.

”Don’t. I don’t… I don’t want you to”, you pleaded, and pausing, Frank looked into your eyes and weighed his options. He could either be selfish and keep coming over, or he could hurt you by leaving. Neither plan sounded ideal.

”Aight, just… don’t slow down ’cause o’me. Go out, do your thing”, Frank pointed out, and nodding, you cast your eyes away from him. You wanted to take his hand, caress his cheek, just feel his warmth one more time, but before you could gather the courage, he was out the door and back into the night.

Still, you supposed he had a point. There was no fawning over a man you couldn’t have, was there? So, that night, you sat down and downloaded your go-to dating app back, determined to find company that wasn’t Frank Castle.

The next time that Frank knocked on your door, you were in the middle of putting on your favorite dangly earrings. Tugging your skirt lower on your thighs, you made your way to the front door, expecting to find your date but smacked in the face with the sight of a bloodied, bruised vigilante, instead. Despite his condition, his eyes widened just the slightest bit at your outfit, and with a surge of vulnerability under his intense gaze, you stuttered.

”I’m—I’m heading out, Frank”, you managed to get the words out, and with a deep sigh, he clenched his jaw.

”Shit, girl, ’m sorry. Shoulda called first”, he reprimanded himself, and shaking your head, you interrupted him with a hand on his chest.

”Hey, you can always come over if you need me. I gotta go, but… you know where the first-aid kit is. Do what you gotta do”, you gave him a smile and pulled him inside, encouraging him to take off his coat and make himself at home. You trusted him enough to leave him alone at your place, and that was a gesture that didn’t go unappreciated by him.

And fuck, he knew he had told you to get out there… but goddamn, his heart ached when he watched you leave, knowing that outfit was for someone else, not him.

It became a habit, then. You went on date after date, none of them really flourishing into anything more, and you liked it like that — you didn’t want a relationship, you just wanted fun and attention. You wanted someone to want you, to need you. You craved to be touched and cherished, and slowly, it grew into an itch you couldn’t scratch but tried your hardest to.

You fell into old habits quicker than you had anticipated. You had tried to kiss Frank on that first night for a reason, too — it wasn’t like anyone had tried to connect with you in the past. Everyone wanted one thing from you, and it seemed you had become good at it, too. You were just leaning into your strengths, you figured.

Frank, on the other hand, was stewing in jealousy. He was too much of a proud, stubborn asshole to tell you that, but every time you announced you had another date — or a hook-up, more like — his heart caved in on itself a little more, and he wanted nothing more than to take your hand and tell you to go out with him, instead.

Yet, he didn’t. But on one Wednesday night just like any other, it would have made all the difference.

It was the first time you invited someone to your home. A guy you had been texting for a few days now, and you had seemed to really hit it off. He liked photos of your body, and that was exactly the validation you needed — so, when he proposed stopping by your apartment after sundown, you said yes.

For the first time in a while, you were anxious about what was to come. Maybe it was your sixth sense going off, and you should have just listened. But when he rang your bell, you let him in, and all Hell broke loose.

He was on you like an animal, kissing you harshly, his rough hands pawing at your chest and sneaking into your pants before you had the chance to process any of it. You were on your back on your bed in a flash, your shirt off, his shirt off, and your mind was shouting at you, telling you you didn’t want any of this but your body couldn’t react.

Only when his weight was on top of yours, you had it in you to speak up. ”Wait… stop”, you whispered, and pulling back only for a second, he chuckled and then ducked down to kiss you again. You tried to tell him again, then again, but your words fell to deaf ears. Maybe it would feel better soon, maybe you just needed to relax…

But then, he undid the belt on his jeans. And when he moved his hips towards your face, his hand gripping your jaw, your instincts finally kicked in and you pushed him off of you.

”You need to leave, right now”, you managed to speak up, your voice wavering but when the guy tried to laugh it off, you grew firmer. ”I said leave! Get out or I’ll call the cops”, you threatened, and at that, he lifted up his hands in his own defense before picking up his shirt from the floor.

You turned around to point him in the direction of the front door, but when you did, you found Frank standing in your doorway, a deep frown etched onto his forehead as he assessed the situation.

”What’s goin’ on? You okay, sweetheart?” he asked, and looking between you two, the man you had invited into your home snorted.

”I see. You’re getting regrets ’cause you’re a cheating wh—”, he started, but Frank cut him off before he could finish.

”Hey!” he spoke angrily, his eyes dark as he glared at the man. ”Wanna say that again, asshole?” His fists were clenched by his sides, a scowl on his face, and it was in that moment you figured your assaulter was a complete idiot — any other man would have cowered in the Punisher’s menacing face, but not him. To you, that wasn’t a sign of bravery, but one of foolishness.

You were proven right when he made a move at Frank, about to start yelling, and Frank reacted within a blink of an eye, grabbing his hand and twisting his wrist until there was a crack. He didn’t let go of his fingers, but rather, squished them until the man was wincing in pain.

”You’re one lucky asshole that we ain’t outside this apartment right now”, Frank threatened, low and raspy, and it sent a shiver down your spine. You didn’t know what else to do but stand there, hugging yourself with tears in your eyes.

Frank shoved him towards the front door, and he finally took the hint, rushing out of the apartment with his tail between his legs — leaving just you and Frank, who instantly softened when he turned back to you with his eyes full of concern and his hands carefully reaching for you.

”Hey, hey, you okay? He do anythin’ to you?” Frank queried, and at his question, you nearly lost your composure. You couldn’t tell why the tears refused to fall, shock, maybe, but either way, you simply stood there in a violent tremble and stuttered when you tried to speak up.

”He—he touched me, he… he tried to…”, you began, your throat closing up on you mid-sentence, and putting the pieces together, Frank swore under his breath.

”Shit, sweetheart, I—I’m tellin’ ya, he’s gonna regret for ever even lookin’ at you. I’mma make sure he never does that to anyone else again, got that?” he spoke with a clenched jaw, before exhaling and taking a step closer to you. ”Can I touch you? That okay?” he whispered, and although you hesitated, you ended up nodding.

Frank wasted no time. He sighed and pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms around you while you simply leaned into him, frozen and unsure what to do or say. He shushed you gently, promising you it was going to be okay, his hand running up and down your back as he did. And you…

You just wanted control.

You looked up at him, and on a single second’s impulse, you leaned in to kiss him. Your lips only brushed together when he was pulling back, a surprised woah rising from his throat as he gently put his hands on your shoulders to keep you at an arm’s distance. Your heart shattered in your chest, and you lifted your hand to cover you mouth, shame flooding through you.

”Hey…”, Frank began, trying to let you down gently, but you interjected.

”I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, I—”, you stammered, hiding your face in both hands. ”That was stupid, I shouldn’t… You… Yeah, you still don’t want me”, you blurted out with a dry laugh, and with confusion blooming on his face, Frank let go of you and tilted his head at you.

”What… Is this—is this about the night we met?” he asked with a frown, and when you only gave him a look, he gave you a sad smile. ”Sweetheart, you were wasted. I couldn’t do you dirty like that. And now, you’re… Hey, you just went through somethin’ real bad”, Frank went on, and with an embarrassed laugh, you waved your hand at him to dismiss him and his attempts to comfort you. You made a move to leave the room, but he took hold of your wrist, gentle but enough to stop you.

”I want you.” His words hung in the air, heavy and unreal, and certainly what it took to get your attention again. You looked back at him, and his head was ducked low, like he was the one embarrassed, all of a sudden. ”Yeah, I… I want you, sweetheart. Fuck, I dunno what my excuse is for not making a move sooner, but I guess I… felt selfish for dragging you into all my bullshit”, he started explaining, and at that, you couldn’t help but give a faint smile.

”In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a mess, just the same”, you pointed out, and with a quiet laugh, Frank nodded.

”Well I, uh, I like you just the way you are”, he insisted, his lips curling upwards into a soft smile. ”And it’d be my

honor to take you out on a real date some day. First… lemme just take care of you, yeah?”

You nodded, lips pursed into a grateful smile. ”It’s been a really shitty night”, you admitted, and with an understanding nod, Frank pulled you into another hug, holding you close to his firm chest.

”I swear to you, that asshole is gonna pay for what he did to you”, he whispered, his words like the most pleasant gravel in your ear, and you let your head drop onto his shoulder.

”Thank you for looking out for me”, you mumbled, and in response, Frank left a kiss on the top of your head.

”Thank you for doin’ the same, pretty girl.”

Momentary silence landed in the room and eventually you shuffled to move away from Frank’s embrace, but before allowing you to escape the conversation, he made a sound in the back of his throat to indicate he still had something on his mind. You faced him with a curious eyebrow, waiting for him to speak up, and he seemed to struggle to find the right words to properly express what he felt.

”You deserve everything. Y’know that, right?” Frank started, catching you off-guard. ”I ain’t sayin’ that I’m the best you could ever have, but these shitty people that you been seein’… I know they just wanted one thing and I want you to understand I’m not lookin’ for that. I want all of you. Not just the outside — although lemme tell you, you’re a fuckin’ stunner — but the inside, too”, he explained, effectively silencing you as you simply looked at him, touched, but in utter disbelief that he knew just what to say.

”Too much?” he chuckled nervously when you didn’t say anything for a while, and repeating his laugh, you shook your head.

”No, it was perfect”, you beamed up at him while giving his hand a squeeze, ”I really appreciate you saying that, Frank.”

He nodded. ”Yeah, well, I’preciate you. More than you know”, he muttered with a shrug, and your smile only widened, enough to make your cheeks ache.

”I’d like to know, though”, you countered, and with another chuckle, Frank licked his lips before leaning in to kiss your cheek.

”You will.”

[luminouslywriting]

Hey how are you doing? Hope the recovery is going well! Do you have any headcanons about maybe one of the guys falling for a girl in the village near Thorpe Abbott and feeling torn about asking her to come to America with him after the war?

Nonny, I am doing so good!! I finally am clear of infection and feel so good! Now I just have to conquer my vision problems haha. Please let me know how you’re doing too :)

I have THOUGHTS on this particular topic! For your pleasure and enjoyment, more under the cut, cut for length, some light spice sprinkled in:

-Listen, I think Robert Rosenthal is EXACTLY the type of man who has the time, energy, and focus to accidentally land himself a girlfriend while on base at Thorpe Abbotts.

-All unintentional, of course.

-But considering how long he's there and how many missions he ends up completing, it's not that crazy.

-We'll set this right before the holidays at Thorpe Abbotts, at least the first go around. This is where he meets his S/O—she's a seamstress who fixes the men's uniforms and he has a few things he needs fixing.

-Naturally, the two of you get to talking and his charisma paired with respect and genuine humor lands himself in the clear in your book

-So he keeps coming back and the two of you end up going on Sunday afternoon walks

-It's around this time that he asks you to be his girlfriend and go steady with him

-So the dates begin; picnics here or there, a dance or two at a party that he convinces you to attend, family dinners at your home, conversations about music and movies and books, exchanging of gifts between the two of you, etc.

-Now he is the type of man to go into things intentionally and with a plan—so keep in mind that he's focusing as much on the future as he is on the present with you.

-Which also means that despite the moonlit rendezvous in his jeep or in many a bar in the village, he's also trying to be long-term. He doesn't do things in half measures.

-This is all where his dilemma begins. Because he can see a future with you so clearly and he wants you to be happy and he wants his life to have you in it for the rest of his life.

-But asking you to leave your home and come with him to america? That's a big step in a relationship and not an easy one to make. That's life-changing and he's fully aware of that.

-So he's not going to ask you until the war is over

-That being said, he's still finding ways to have fun and make the relationship new and exciting in some ways

-He buys you flowers and you buy him records, you sew his clothes and he buys you a new dress—he's very much trying to equate and balance out the things that you do for him

-Rosie appreciates you being a support system for him. He can't always be at the Flak House, but a good cuddle session, pillow talk, and glowing session of sex oughta do the trick for him when he's getting anxious or upset about things

-Shower sex?? Yes, most definitely

-Rain sex outside?? Also yes

-He's very romantic in all of his gestures and he waits a while before telling you that he loves you—and it's right before he goes down in Russia

-Naturally, you're his first stop and call and when he gets back, it's a tearful reunion and realization that neither of you can live without one another

-So as the war begins to wrap up, Rosie feels more and more guilt about asking you to come with him and be the future Mrs. Rosenthal.

-Funnily enough, it's Gale Cleven that convinces him otherwise—with his return to base and immediate clocking of your relationship and how in love Rosie is, he's encouraging him not to waste any time on things

-So Rosie plucks up the courage to approach you about the entire thing

-And he just simply asks—he knows that you'll want time to figure it out and you might need some space. He's not going to argue or come up with any reasons why you SHOULD go with him.

-But he does add that he wants to marry you, so there is that

-Naturally, you say yes and the relief in his heart has only been matched by when the war actually ended

-So naturally, you drive to a chapel and get hitched before you even leave for the states

-Actual brother of Rosie: You know, when you said you were going to Europe, I was thinking you could bring me back a Luger, not a sister-in-law, but this works too.

[midmourn]

deja vu

title deja vu

pairing zhong chenle x gender neutral!reader

summary chenle’s new ‘thing’ is your clone.

characters zhong chenle, park jisung [nct] yang jeongin [stray kids] choi beomgyu [txt] shin ryujin, lee chaeryeong [itzy], kim minjeong [aespa], gender neutral!reader, gender neutral!oc

warnings angst, brief mention of death

word count 1798

author’s note reader is kinda unhinged lol but i love them. also i love chenle i swear!!! hes part of my bias line <3 btw if u have any requests; one shots, texts, reactions for dream send me an ask!!

The loud snap of the chopsticks made Beomgyu’s head turn to you uneasily, finding you staring off in the distance at something, eyes narrowed. He glanced from your clenched fist to the broken chopsticks to following your gaze, scoffing when he saw your ex-boyfriend with his new ‘friend’ walking inside Kwangya.

“Oh, you’re kidding,” he complained, staring at the two as they held hands, standing in front of Minjeong, the current hostess and one of your best friend’s. The brunette glanced between the two in disbelief before forcing a smile at the two and saying something.

“Oh, he has some fucking nerve,” you gritted through your teeth. Jeongin approached the table, sitting next to you and taking the broken chopsticks out of your hand as you continued to stare daggers into Chenle. If looks could kill, he’d be dead. “I was the one who showed him Kwangya! This was our place.”

“What a fucking loser,” Beomgyu snorted, watching as Minjeong turned to direct them to their booth, making short, wide-eyed eye contact with you three. You threw your hands up in disbelief at her as Beomgyu mouthed for her to trip Chenle.

Jeongin shook his head and pulled your attention to him, “Maybe Jiho was the one to pick the place.”

You scowled, “That’s his date’s name? Even if it was, he should’ve said no and picked something else.” You turned your head back to the couple, watching Minjeong slap their menus down on the table harshly. The two flinched slightly, Chenle looking slightly guilty while Jiho looked confused.

“I hate men,” you murmur after a moment of watching them, slowly turning to your food. You didn’t feel hungry anymore, pushing around the food with Jeongin’s chopsticks. “They suck.”

“Preach,” Ryujin commented, overhearing your comment on her way to another table.

“Uptown girl, she’s been living in her uptown world,” two voices belted out simultaneously, your head practically detaching from your neck at the sound of the familiar song and voice. Yet again, here was your ex-boyfriend with his … whatever, singing your song. You were the one who showed it to Chenle!

“Wow, the audacity of men,” Chaeryeong scoffed as she heard them, too. The two were in the music room, the same room you and your friends were going to go in a second ago, with Chenle playing the familiar tune of Uptown Girl on the piano to Jiho.

“Why I oughta—” As you started to walk towards the music room, Jeongin’s hand caught yours. When your eyes connected, he shook his head and you huffed, standing next to him again.

“He’s not even worth it,” Minjeong crossed her arms over her chest, eyeing him through the small window with disgust. “So unoriginal.”

“I hate him,” you seethed, feeling your nails dig into the palm of your hand when you noticed that Jiho was wearing his gray hoodie. You used to wear that damn hoodie he loved so much. It was practically yours, too. You suddenly wish you didn’t give it back after your break up. “I bet he tells Jiho he loves them in between the chorus and the verse. Ugh!” You felt a flood of emotions hit you all at once, similar to how it had been happening since your break up three weeks ago. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Y/N, wait—” Minjeong tried to stop you but you waved her off, ignoring your friends’ looks.

You couldn’t believe that Chenle would use your couple things with another person. But it seemed like a lot of things were being revealed when you were no use for him anymore. Your heart clenched as you forced back an onset of tears and slowed your pace back to your dorm.

You looked up, and there he was. Chenle’s best friend, Park Jisung. With no Chenle in sight, and none of your friends to stop you, you stormed up to the boy angrily, knowing you would regret this but could take care too much in the moment.

“Park Jisung!” The boy looked up in surprise, an awkward look falling on his face when he saw it was you.

Jisung chuckled nervously, standing up straight and rubbing the back of his neck, “Hey, what’s up?”

“What the hell does your little bitch of a friend—” He blinked. “—think he’s doing?! Taking Jiho to my cafe, singing Uptown Girl with them, giving them my hoodie?! What’s wrong with him?”

“Everything,” Jisung spoke in amusement, “And I’m pretty sure you don’t own Kwangya or Uptown Girl. Or the hoodie that’s actually Chenle’s, and he loves that hoodie like a serious alarmingly amount. I’m thinking about forcing him to go to therapy.”

“Good, therapy would be fucking great for an asshole like him! Maybe he and his therapist can dig in that deep, soulless, heartless heart of his and figure out why he’s such an unoriginal asshole,” you smiled sarcastically at the taller boy. He stared at you in shock. “And then, maybe, just maybe, all three of you can go suck a dick and fall off a cliff!”

Without waiting for a reply, you turned abruptly and stumbled back slightly when you almost walked into someone. Your anger only grew when you saw the boy you were just talking about, staring at you in shock and … sadness? No. He didn’t deserve to be sad. You did.

You scoffed, glaring at him, “What? Are you following me now? Hope Jiho likes my sloppy seconds!” You stormed off in the opposite direction, not even realizing that you were heading away from your dorm.

“He loves me, he loves me not,” you murmured to yourself as you plucked off the wilting petals of a Baby’s Breath. “He loves me, he loves me … not.” You faltered. There were no more petals. You threw the flowerless stem to the ground, stomping on it for good measure like it was Chenle. “Jerk.”

“Y/N.”

You jumped, turning swiftly even though you knew who it was by his voice, “My God, Chenle. You’re really a stalker nowadays, aren't you?” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. You don’t know when the anger started to fade away and turn into hurt. You just knew it hurt like hell to see him right now when he wasn’t yours and was recreating your memories with another person. “What the fuck do you want now? Haven’t you done enough?”

It was a lot easier to be angrier at someone than it was to say you were hurt.

Chenle sighed, “I deserve that.” Yeah, you do, asshole, you wanted to say, but he continued before you could open your mouth. “I just … I wanted to come and say I’m sorry.”

When he didn’t continue, your eyebrows rose as your foot tapped impatiently, “Do you even know what you’re supposed to be sorry for?” He probably didn’t. He usually never did because he thought he could do no wrong.

“Breaking your heart,” he said like it was nothing. “Stealing our old dates, our songs … Letting Jiho wear your jacket.”

“It’s not my jacket, it’s yours,” you replied offhandedly, Jisung having made you realize that technically it was. You paused, thinking of something and then failed to hide a smirk. “And you know what, Chenle? I forgive you.”

“What?” Chenle’s eyes comically bulged out of his head. He must’ve thought it would’ve been harder.

You shrugged, “Yeah. I mean … You can continue stealing our old dates, our songs, you can do everything we used to do with Jiho. Hell, even watch reruns of Glee with them, for all I care!” Your smile became devilish as you took a step towards him, his face faltering at your words. He didn’t expect any of this— you held grudges, just like he did. That’s part of the reason why you two broke up.

“What?” His voice cracked in a way that was once cute, but now you just wanted to laugh maliciously at it.

“Because … Every time you do,” your hand raised slowly, lifting a finger to caress his cheek lightly. He flinched at your touch, not expecting it, before slowly sinking into it. You forced yourself to not sink into it, either. “You’ll think of me. Jiho’ll think it’s special, all for them— when, really, it’s only special because of me. You’ll look them in the eyes, touch them, and wish it was me. You’ll hear my voice when they say something, you’ll see me in every damn thing around you and you’ll realize … you just lost the best damn thing to ever happen to you.”

Your hand dropped back to your side, stepping away from your ex-boyfriend and smiled again. “That’s why I’m OK with forgiving you. Because you’ll suffer for the rest of your life, wondering what could have been. And that’s good enough for me.”

Chenle stared at you in a mix of shock and hurt. Your heart pumped harshly in your chest, echoing in your ears and giving you away. You hoped he couldn’t hear it.

“Y/N …” He started but you shook your head, stopping him from speaking any more.

“You’re going to have the life you deserve, Chenle,” you said lastly. You turned and walked away as calmly as you could from him, even though your heart was beating erratically and your head was yelling at you for saying all those things to him.

You only believed in half of your words, you didn’t forgive him, but you were OK with him suffering without you as you suffered without him, too. It would be a two-way street. Your trembling fingers reached for your phone in your pocket, unlocking it and texting a message to the group chat.

YOU: just told chenle off lol. im done with him for good.

Your phone exploded with messages instantly.

RYUJIN: legend!!!

BEOMGYU: whAT DID YOU SAY? WAS HE CRYING AFTER? HE BETTER HAVE BEEN CRYING

JEONGIN: good im glad youre finally done with him. you deserve better.

MINJEONG: can i still trip him and jiho whenever i see them lol

CHAERYEONG: soo wish i was there his face wouldve been priceless!!!

The corner of your lips weakly twitched up, letting out a tearful laugh as you realized what you’ve done. You felt an odd sense of relief as a tear ran down your cheek, a flow of others following seconds later.

Your chest felt lighter. The anger and hurt was still there, seething, simmering. It would be there, quite possibly, for the rest of your life. But your chest felt lighter, knowing he would suffer just as much as you would.

You were the two sides of the same coin, even apart. It would always be like this. It was always going to end like this.

sour masterlist. main masterlist.

[your-unfriendlyghost]

4, 5, 7, 14

(Okay I really liked these ones fyi)

4. Rank the main 7.

  Ooh tough one. I guess right now, in order of favorite to least favorite, I’d have to go Sodapop, Two-Bit, Steve, Johnny, Ponyboy, Dally, and then finally Darry. But it’s pretty close, and the order changes day by day honestly- I like all of them a lot, y’know? I guess the only one I don’t think about too often is Darry. I still like him and think he’s a really well-written character- I just don’t have a lotta original thoughts about him, is all, whereas I do about all the others. 

5. What are your fave ships?

  In a truly shocking turn of events, I, a frequent draw-er and writer of Stevepop, am going to say Stevepop. I dunno, something about them just makes me happy. Reminds me of like…daydreams I had when I was twelve and crushing on my best friend, and trying to get her attention by doing stupid things and whatever…god I don’t really know how to explain why I like it. Before this fandom I didn’t usually ship things, to be honest. But I guess when I did it’d be stuff like Jesslake in Infinity Train, where it’s the sorta thing that can be seen as platonic or romantic. I reckon Stevepop scratches a similar itch in my brain lol

  But I also really like Marcia x Two-Bit, which I haven’t really talked about here much- They had good chemistry, y’know? I oughta draw something about them sometime

  And then finally there’s my DIY crack-ish ship Soda x Steve x Evie. I like them! It’s all the things I like about Stevepop, plus there’s a cool girl in the mix! I love cool girls! More folks should think about them i think

  I do like other ships okay too- like the Tarry crowd has dragged me in, and sometimes the Jally crowd does too, along with Purly and occasionally Johnnyboy. I’m not an active participant, but when I come across it, I sorta mentally nod and say “nice”, you dig? They’re like…my ship-in-laws. Or like…milk duds and hershey bars- candy I still enjoy, but reach for only after I’m out of milky ways and twizzlers.

7. What are your fave non-romantic relationships? (This can be close friends, familial, enemies or even just acquaintances)

  Two-Bit and Pony! I like them a lot. Their interactions in the book were some of my favorite parts. That line when Two-Bit was worried about Ponyboy using that broken bottle on the Socs…ugh that part was great. I remember reading it for the first time and just sitting there thinking about how much I liked that detail.

  Then on the opposite side of the coin, Steve and Pony lol. I LOVE how Pony doesn’t initially like Dally or Steve, and yet Dally’s chill with Pony…but with Steve the disdain is mutual. Jk I don’t think Steve really hates Pony- but he definitely thinks Pony’s kinda annoying. I like the idea of him watching out for Pony anyways though, like at school especially now that Soda’s not going.

14. Tell us five of your headcanons you basically see as canon

Sodapop has ADHD and maybe (?) dyslexia, but it’s the 60s so he won’t find out till he’s well into adulthood

Marcia gave Two-Bit her real number, and was disappointed when he didn’t call it. I like to imagine they end up remeeting at some point and going out together- even if that’s kinda unrealistic lol

Steve hated Dally when he first rolled into town, because Dally was everything he really wanted to be- tough, cool, and street-smart. And he was also scared of losing Soda, who thought Dally rocked- because Dally’s from New York and rides in rodeos! Eventually they became buddies though when Dally gave Steve a compliment or something. Not even a particularly good one- something like “Hey you ain’t bad at fighting”- just barely enough for Steve to feel like Dally’s earned a little bit of his loyalty. Might write fic/make a comic for this- it’s kinda niche but I think the idea is funny

Steve and Soda secretly listen to the Beach Boys at the DX. They can’t tell anyone because it’s not tuff to like a dumb California band. And Ponyboy would like the Beatles if he listened to them, but he doesn’t, so he won’t realize that until years after Beatlemania has died down

Steve is not just a Ponyboy hater but also a horses-in-general hater. He thinks horses are scary and unpredictable and that cars were invented for a reason. He was secretly relieved when Mr. Curtis stopped Soda from riding rodeos, because seeing Soda on a crazy horse gave him mad anxiety. Pretended he was sad though for Soda’s sake

Thanks so much for asking!! I loved answering these so much lol, definitely let me know your thoughts too on ‘em!