#maybe my stupidest work yet

[izzystizzys]

Ever since touching down on Triple Zero, both a military and quality marker for the planet in his mind, Marshall Commander Fox had become intimately acquainted with the biting pain of headaches and migraines.

This, however, feels like it’s going to make his skull cave inside out.

“I can hear voices, Thorn”, Fox hisses, wide-eyed, breathing harshly through his nose. His bucket sadly lolls around on the pavement from where he ripped it off in a panic, unable to breathe all of a sudden. But even exposure to the open air hasn’t helped much - now, Fox just feels like a fish drowning in water, desperately breathing in the air but unable to keep it in his lungs.

“I mean, we all hear voices, ori’vod, that’s really less concerning than if you couldn’t -“, Thorn begins, hands stretched out towards Fox like he’s trying to approach a rabid beast. “Voices, Thorn!”, Fox repeats, whisper-screaming over the strange sensation of all his blood pooling in his head and ears popping. “In my kriffing head!”

Thorn’s mouth opens to gape, then closes again immediately, countenance turning decidedly more alarmed than before. Fox crumbles to the ground, head clutched in his hands, moaning in painpainpainpain-

The only thing like this he’s felt before is after one of his private meetings with the Chancellor, the one he never lets anyone else have and Fox never remembers. It feels like there’s something else in his head, worming around his thoughts and bouncing off the insides of his skull-

“- is kriffing losing it, Thire, I don’t know what to do -“

“- keep position, help is -“

“- kriffing RED ALERT, what the -“

“- do you mean a karking Venator exploded over Coruscant?!”

“- call it the Zillo Beast - it caved in the side of the ship, apparently, and is making for the surface -“

The pressure inside Fox’s head increases, warmth dripping over his cheeks and from his noise, swelling until he thinks his head really will explode, and then - stops-

Fox looks up, gasping, at the shadow that has fallen across his and Thorn’s patrol, into two massive, glowing eyes. The thing tilts its head, and chirps. It sounds like a greeting.

Silence. Then -

“You’re right”, Fox says, in a daze, “we should kill the Chancellor.”

“WHAT”, Thorn screeches.

———————————

Fox wakes an indeterminate amount of time later to a gentle breeze and nebulous feeling in his head. This is strange for several reasons - one, Guard HQ are both insulated and airconditioned like ass, thus the temperature is always wrong and the air constantly stuffy, and two - he hasn’t woken up not in pain since touching down two years ago.

“Stabby gave you the good shit”, his own voice says, and yeah, that would explain that.

“Stabby is a little bitch”, Fox tries to say, which comes out more like a warbled gurgle. “You’re welcome”, a third voice replies, sarcastically. Fox pries open his eyes with great difficulty. Ah, yes, that’s Stabby looming across the room - and Stone, next to his bedside, lounging in a chair next to a passed-out Thorn, whose head is tilted across the back of his chair at an angle that will definitely put a crick in it.

And, behind them, where the medbay wall used to be, two gigantic, glowing green eyes, tilting along with the rest of the eldritch face floating next to Fox’s bed.

“Hgngndndnsndnfnfffhhh”, he vocalizes, and Stone shrugs. “Yeah, been there the whole time. Do you remember anything?” Fox frowns. Stabby snickers somewhere from his far corner, quietly bustling around and probably concocting something nefarious to make Fox sleep or “take a break”.

Stone’s eyebrows rise incrementally. “Really? Not even when you mounted the space monster, took a joyride through half of Coruscant, crashed through the Senate Dome and battled a lightning-launching Chancellor?”

Fox blinks. The Zillo Beast chirps cheerfully. “Huh.” A sense of strange, deep satisfaction spreads through Fox’s chest, raising goosebumps. “Did we bite his head off? I think we bit his head off.”

Stone chokes, and Stabby races over to thump him on his back, Fox watching warily for any sharp objects. You never know on that one - one second he’s checking your pupils for dilation, then you’ve got a needle sticking out of you and boom, ten hours gone. Or suddenly you’re spitting out decaf - ew - at five kriffing in the morning, being lectured about heart health and some other banthashit.

Something that feels strangely like a chuckle titters across Fox’s mind, and when he looks over, the Zillo Beast is blinking innocently at him.

“Yeah, your little friend did actually bite off the Chancellor’s head” Stone confirms, once he can breathe again. Thorn slowly stirs, until he jackknifes to awareness all at once, and then Fox has a lap full of hugging vod’ika.

“ - took twenty years off my kriffing life, goddamn, ori’vod, you’re giving me grey hair -“

“It’ll match your old man bones”, Stabby murmurs, making Thorn screech indignantly into the top of Fox’s head. The Zillo Beast trills mournfully, aiming a sad look at the medic, who shakes his head and brandishes a hypo at the thing. Fox wonders if he’ll have to intervene - he would try to hypo an eldritch space monster, the absolute lunatic. “Absolutely not - we talked about this, no scritchies until we can be sure it won’t bust more of Fox’s ribs!”

Fox’s mouth opens, and Thorn snickers mercilessly. Stone, far too dignified for it, buries a grin in a datapad. “It’s imprinted on you, Fox’ika”, he says instead, the traitor. “Tried to gte to you in the Jedi temple, but it wouldn’t fit - which is when we brought you here. The interior design was so butt-kriffing ugly it wouldn’t matter much to tear it out.”

“Imprinted?”, Fox asks, not even willing to touch on anything else that’s been said yet. An image flashes across the inside of his skull - him, tossing a space-tennis-ball into the air, and the Zillo Beast slithering off after it. In reality, it perks up and mrows hopefully at Fox God, he wishes he was still insensate. Thorn snickers again, and the desire increases tenfold.

“Yeah, like in that one holoshow, whatchacallit - with that one blonde chick, the Mother of Krayts - you know, the one that made Hound cry when they killed the loth wolves so we had to ban it in barracks?” Thorn’s eyes light up. “Wait, does that make you the mother of Zillos?!”

“Oooh, mummy Fox!”, Stabby screeches, the absolute traitor. Stone breaks out into barking laughter, and Thorn sounds like he’s actively asphyxiating. Fox hates them. Fox turns to the Zillo Beast.

“Please, please eat them.”

[teaandinanity]

... what kind of ignoramus designed the EA app. Was this designed by a committee of corporate twits with too many business degrees and a complete dearth of common sense? Having to GO ONLINE to enable OFFLINE MODE is the stupidest fucking thing I have ever heard of in my life. Do you know when I need offline mode? Do you, incomprehensible moron from planet idiot who designed this feature? WHEN I DO NOT HAVE GODDAMN INTERNET ACCESS.

In conclusion I hope the fuckwit(s) responsible for this step on a lego and fall down a (short) flight of stairs in front of three people they respect and acquire a RAFT of bruises to both their bodies and egos both, amen.

[someonesomewheredown]

I've been playing Disco Elysium a bit lately and I have to say I can already see why people love this game so much. I don't know how to describe it but it just feels good to play and interact with the world. Kim is also such a delight to talk to!!! Everyone feels real and alive and it's blowing my mind. I'm so excited to keep going and see where things go!!!!

[toytulini]

mental health just straight up plummeting

[eggmixercortex]

14 and 16 for the artist asks

hello :]

14 - any favourite motifs?

oooh well i suspect its a little obvious but i love corruption/infestation/parasitic motifs lol... oh and not what the question means but i really enjoy when a character Is their job/guild/whatever like when theyre The [Profession]-er and it informs everything they do/say/wear etc. also a big fan of when a character keeps running into one specific mini-scene that plays out over different mediums and sources through time.

16. Something you are good at but don't really have fun doing?

well unfortunately (fortunately?) for me im not really very good even at the things i do love doing especially art-wise but i guess i would say jewelry making? im actually pretty alright at the sort of fiddly wire bits of bent wire jewelry but i simply have less than zero interest in making that kind of thing. in art class i used to use the jewelry wire to make dogs instead...

[doctorweebmd]

I say this with so much love in my heart

Yall are so fucking stupid

[joi-me-hoi-me-noi]

Hope your requests work now😁

I would like to request maybe todoroki and reader have a secret relationship and class 1-A thinks there’s something wrong with him so they follow him into a restaurant and they see him and reader kiss.

I’ll leave the rest up to you😁😊

OH MY GOD YESSSS!!! THEY'RE WORKING!! Also, thank you for your help and the request anon. Please enjoy!

TODOROKI x READER - SECRETS

As soon as they saw him 'accidentally' burn his UA outfit on the shoulder, they knew something was wrong. Todoroki would never do something like that.

"Midoriya, ask him what's wrong." Mina pushes the boy toward his friend.

"Hey Shoto, is everything alright? You've been acting strange." Shoto perks up at this and looks at Izuku.

"What do you mean?" Todoroki's leg was bouncing.

As Izuku was about to say something else, Sero tapes his mouth shut and stands next to Izuku.

"Sorry about that." Sero pulls the boy along until Shoto goes back to studying or whatever he was doing to distract himself.

"What the hell was that Izuku?!" You find yourself listening in on the group sitting directly in front of you.

"You told me to ask him." He gets hit over the head by Bakugo and then they continue whispering.

"Let me try." Momo gets up and approaches Todoroki.

"Hey, Todoroki. Do you want to study after class is finished?" He looks up at her.

"Uh, sorry, I can't."

"Why not? You owe me study time you know."

"I'm...I'm going out with family to a dinner. Apparently, I can't miss another one of those. Sorry." His foot is tapping yet again.

You shake your head at the group's antics and continue to focus on your work. The bell rings and you quickly pack your things. A hand slams down on your desk, startling you.

"In a hurry, L/n?" You simply nod and hurry to pack the last of your belongings.

You didn't have to look up to know it was Bakugo. Bakugo quickly snatches the notebook off of your desk and holds it above his head.

"Can I have it back please? I'm really in a hurry." You hold out your hand, waiting for him to give it to you.

"I just noticed how weird you're acting too. You know anything about Icy-Hot?" He moves his eyes to Todoroki then back to you.

"Why are you asking me? We don't even talk to each other." You send him a glare and using your quirk, you grab your notebook from his fingers.

You leave the room and quickly make your way to the dorms to get ready for your date. You look at yourself in the mirror and you know you look fabulous. A ding turns your attention to your phone, a text from Todoroki.

'Check your balcony.'

You simply shake your head while letting a small laugh leave your lips and open the door to your outdoor abode. As you look around, you see an ice slide that he created for you both to escape your dorms. He was at the bottom, giving you a small wave. You wave back and then let yourself glide on the slide.

"Well, you dress up nice. Let's go!" You pull him along as you both run through the woods to get to where you need to be.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Mina runs into the living room area of the dorms where almost everyone resided and opens the curtains to show them what she saw from her balcony.

"Todoroki left!" Everyone was flabbergasted, he would never.

"What if he's just playing with us." Everyone looks at Kaminari like he just said the stupidest thing in the world.

"He doesn't know how to play people!"

"Damn! Sorry!" Mina was already grabbing her jacket and throwing on her sneakers.

"Where are you going?"

"To spy on Todoroki! Are you guys coming or not?!"

All of sudden, the people who were still awake started to grab their things and put on their shoes.

"Let's go!"

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

"I'm so glad we made it to the reservation." You smile at your boyfriend lovingly as he does the same.

It was a beautiful venue, you wondered where he got the money to pay for this. probably from Daddy's wallet The stars twinkled onto the candlelit balcony where you both sat. He scootches his chair a bit to be closer to you as he holds your hand in his.

"You know I really do care about you." Shoto presses a gentle kiss to the back of your hand while looking at you.

"You're just new to this and it's okay, we all have our firsts." Your other hand is placed on top of his.

You kiss his knuckles and smile at him, the stars illuminating both of your eyes. As your hand moves off of his, he brings his hand up to the side of your cheek. You look into his pretty eyes; it was the first time he was initiating something like this.

"Can I kiss you?" You smile and watch as his lips turn into a soft smile.

"Shoto, you want to waste your first kiss on me? Are you sure?" You joke, looking away to the stars before he gently turns your face, so you look at him directly.

"I wouldn't want to kiss anyone else; I'll savor the moment forever."

That makes you smile even more until he starts to lean his head in and closes his eyes. The moment feels different than the cuddles and hugs, it's intense. Your eyes flutter shut as do his as your lips connect into a kiss. One of your hands resting on his shoulder while the other goes through his hair, messing it up slightly. His hand still rests on your cheek while the other is on your waist.

Soon you both pull away, slightly swollen lips and little grins on your faces.

"That was really... good. You sure it's your first time kissing someone?" That makes him let out a light chuckle.

"Yes, I'm sure. I want another." You both lean in again but you look to the right and see Uraraka hovering in the air, snapping pictures of you both.

"WHAT THE FUC-"

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

After walking to the perfect spot to watch Todoroki at his 'family dinner', they climb into a high enough tree to see what's happening and if he lied to them.

"Guys, what if it is a family gathering?" Izuku asks, playing with his hands nervously.

"Then we leave, but it's obviously not. He was acting wayyy too nervous about it when we asked." Mina tells Izuku.

The continue to sit in the tree until they see him sit at the table with-

"Oh my god! Is that Y/n?" Sero squints his eyes as well as everyone else.

Momo makes binoculars and holds them up to her eyes, pointing them at the table Todoroki sat at. Her mouth dropped and it was confirmed, he lied and he was going out with you.

"Hey, Ochaco. Wanna do something real quick?" Mina asks with a smile.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

"I can't believe you guys spied on us." Your arms were crossed over your chest while you walked back to UA with the group.

"You both were acting weird, we needed to know what happened to the both of you." Mina stated.

"Well now you know."

As you approach the doors of the dorms, Mr. Aizawa was standing at the entrance.

"Thank you for letting us go out tonight." You and Shoto walk by Aizawa, he gives the both of you a small nod.

"All of you who went out will have early morning training." Everyone groans, watching the two of you walk away free.

"Why don't they get in trouble?"

"They asked."

[leqonsluv3r]

valentine’s day

—leon finally starts to heal after he meets you in a grocery store, a blurb

masterlist taglist

an: i’ve had this idea in my head since i went to the LANY concert a month ago and heard this song live. i have not been the same person since, this drabble/blurb is dedicated to this song and leon. it’s a lot longer then i intended and i apologize lol

leon wasn’t one to heal easy.

not from his past, not from the missions when he saw more gore and blood then he wanted to. not when he had gagged every time he saw blood from that point foreword.

he was still healing when he walked into a grocery store about four months after his last mission. he was still healing when he grabbed one of those stupid baskets to carry your groceries in through the store.

he grabbed a couple bottles of alcohol, some snacks and some soap. essentials, things he needs. because sleeping without alcohol now is…it’s a lot harder then it used to be. just nightmares and images of bloodshed — he just says fuck it. he gets what he needs, what he wants and he goes up to the front of the store to pay.

what he doesn’t understand, when he sees you for the first time, is why your working in a grocery store of all places. your too beautiful for that, you should be doing something better, something worthy of your time. he doesn’t know a single thing about you yet and he’s willing to draw that conclusion.

you smile kindly at people from behind your register, your voice is kind and sweet. it draws something within him like a magnet, his heart is pounding, he’s going to explode or something. he used to be so good at talking to women but it’s declined as the years have gone by. he’s gotten tired, he just didn’t care like he used to.

he awkwardly sits his basket down on the conveyor belt of the register, you catch his eye and smile a little and it fucking does something to him. he knows he’s screwed beyond relief at that point. he smiles back, or tries to. he’s out of practice on that to, can’t remember the last time he’s smiled.

“this all for you?” you say softly, your eyes scanning over the bottles of alcohol, the snacks and the bottle of soap. he nods and chuckles a little, low and deep, just like his voice. “yeah, that’s all…” he grabs his wallet out of his back pocket of his jeans.

he wish he could say something better, something more positive and just something to grab your attention. he searches his brain as you tell him the total and he hands you the card. but he doesn’t have to say anything, you speak first.

“leon? that’s…you have a nice name.” you say and it snaps him out of his brain, he blinks those devastating blue eyes. ones that were once full of life, he nods. “my mom gave it to me.” he jokes lamely, or at least he thinks it’s lame until he hears your small little giggle.

he feels his heart beat with more confidence and energy now, like his one effort at making you smile is good enough. making you laugh is worth enough. you hand him his card back and put the receipt in the shopping bag, telling him to have a great day. not a nice day like you did with the others, but a great day. like you could tell he needed to hear that.

he walks out of the grocery store with the biggest, stupidest smile on his face. one that he has been a stranger to for months. he has you to thank for that.

the weeks that followed he came back to the grocery store, once maybe sometimes three times a week if he wasn’t sent off on a mission. he almost can’t help himself, he likes talking to you when your there.

you make him feel something he hadn’t felt in such a long time. it’s almost ridiculous, but he can’t help himself, it’s like an addiction. but it doesn’t involve him waking up with a hangover.

he keeps coming, week after week and buying things from the grocery store just to talk to you, just to see your sweet face. just to give him some kind of ray of sunshine that casts his whole body in a warm glow. making his heart beat faster.

but today was different, he was going to ask you out today. he was going to do it, he couldn’t be scared anymore. he couldn’t let you pass by anymore like something rare and just ignore you.

you were something to him. even if you didn’t even know that yet.

he walked up, carrying the same five things he always grabbed. his heart was pounding wildly, he was so out of practice but he just had to get out there and do it. just give himself something, he would hope you would say yes.

he put the items on the conveyor belt and waited until it was his turn, you finished checking out the customer in front of him and then turned to look at him. “hi stranger, haven’t seen you in awhile.” you say with a small frown, it’s adorable, it makes his heart melt.

he chuckles and shakes his head, “didn’t know you missed me.” he muses as he watches you start scanning his stuff. slowly and methodically almost as if you wanted this interaction to last longer too.

you sigh and shake your head, “of course i did, your my favorite customer.” you say with a small smile, and if he wasn’t looking so intently at you, he wouldn’t have noticed the subtle blush on your cheeks.

“i better be. goodness knows i give you guys enough business.” he chuckles playfully and flashes you a grin, almost as bright as the sun. he didn’t know where he was willing this confidence from, maybe it’s because he needed you. he needed you to at least attempt to be with him. you were the first light he has had in his life in a long time.

you scan his last item and he realizes it’s now or never, “26.73” you say as you lay out your hand for the card so he can pay. he reaches into his wallet and gives it to you, your fingers brush against each other. he wills himself to do it, to just do it now.

“uhm, i actually…i have a question for you.” he says with a small tremble of his hands, keeping his eyes on you to gauge your reaction behind the register. you look back up at him, swiping his card. “yeah?” you say and he could swear there’s almost hopefulness in your voice.

he swallows all the nerves down and attempts to keep himself calm enough to get this out, he can’t screw this up. he cannot screw you up, he would never forgive himself if he did.

“do you want to go out with me? like on a date?” he says and it’s so weird, the words feel foreign as they slipped from his mouth. usually women used to flock to him, but they didn’t anymore. his confidence with women had slipped right along with him trying to be sober all the time.

you blinked at him, holding onto his card in your small but intricate fingers. you seem to be thinking it over, weighing your options. he feels like the rejection is going to slip out of your lips at any given moment and he’s preparing himself for it.

then eventually, you respond, “i’d love to.”

now, it’s his turn to gawk and blink at you, almost perplexed that you are actually saying yes, accepting him and accepting this date. he can’t help the smile on his face, it’s almost stupid. you hand him the card and his brain goes on autopilot. you hand him the bag of his stuff, he grabs it and goes to walk away.

until, “wait! you forgot your receipt!” you yell behind him, holding up a slip of paper and waving it. he turns around and walks back to the register, his brows furrowed. you never gave him a receipt, he grabs the slip of paper from your fingers. he reads it over with confusion until he sees your number at the bottom, your hand writing and scribbles drawn with a little heart next to it.

he smiles, another genuine one that only you could conjure onto his face. “text me, we can set up a date.” you say to him, nodding towards the receipt. you look just as giddy as he feels inside. he nods, “absolutely. will do.”

he texts you the minute he gets home. and you respond. the texts keep going between you two until you both eventually settle on a date to go out. your both feeling like love-struck teenagers, so entranced with each other it’s almost borderline disgusting.

the week after you set the date passes and neither of you can hardly wait. you both have your reasons for being nervous, you both have that joy when you see each other but it shines in a different way. especially when he picks you up for your guy’s date.

you look stunning. stunning doesn’t even begin to cover it for him. you look like if heaven was a person, like an angel. that’s good enough reason for him to not let his blue eyes break from you all night.

and they don’t, they don’t ever break. not one second, he keeps his gaze on you at dinner, when your both talking and flirting aimlessly with each other. to leon, it feels good to have that someone; even if they don’t know it yet. that lights up their world and just makes it so much better.

he doesn’t break his gaze when you two walk by the lake, showing him all the birds and where they nest when winter comes closer. he admires the way you talk about small things, things that other people wouldn’t normally talk about or care about for that matter. but you took time, every week, to come feed the ducks and birds at this lake.

and he doesn’t break his gaze when he walks you back to your place, low intimate whispers that turn into slow kisses and touches. it doesn’t turn frantic, it just stays slow and gentle. it’s loving and it almost wants to make leon cry, because you care so much, this kiss just proves it.

because for the first time in a long time, you make him feel cared for. you make him feel wanted and it’s so much to him that he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

he wants you forever, he wants you as long as you let him have you. and he’s always going to take care of you, just like you’ve unknowingly taken care of him. taken the sadness away from him by just being in his life.

three months later, you and leon were dating.

you guys were the happiest people, it seemed you brought leon back from the edge. he opened up and you learned all you could about him. he got to learn more about you. and you both loved the idea of having that one confidant in each other.

the one you would have when you were sad, scared, angry, frustrated, etc. everything made sense with the two of you together. and you guys found that one piece that was missing within each of you. you guys were happy, leon was smiling a lot more then he usually did.

he didn’t drink his days away anymore, he didn’t come back from missions to an empty apartment and he didn’t have nightmares. it was still there but you dulled the ache, you filled that dark hole inside of him that had been gone for so long.

you made him happier, you made him recognize the man in the mirror again with your love. your love and everything about you made him better. he was better for you.

you had each other to soothe the gaps and ridges of your guys souls that were jagged. you had that thing that he was searching for, that he’d been missing for so long.

he loved you.

and nothing was ever going to change that.

an: i love you guys sm :,) thank you guys for reading my stuff and engaging. i was so worried when i started writing on tumblr that it wasn’t going to take. that no one would like my writing and i was wrong. you guys have given me so much support in liking my fics. it makes me so happy to have that support. it keeps me going. i love you all, i’ll be posting a one shot soon, keep up on my requests. pls reblog if you enjoyed, you guys know the drill. kisses, xx.

taglist: @elihii @heartsforvin @argreion @sqiim (to join the taglist DM me or interact with my link at the beginning)

[bowieandqueen11]

Exchanging Pleasantries / Cooper Howard Imagine

Request: Could you please do hurt/comfort with The Ghoul? Like, maybe you got hurt during a fight with Raiders and he's being mean while stitching you up. Thanks pookie bookie ily

Omg bb @itsyellow ily too I couldn't wait to write this!! Hit me with that hurt/comfort that's my jam son

Also did I make this full of unresolved sexual tension? Frick yeah I did

As always, if you enjoyed please drop a comment to help me out and let me know!

Warning: slightly NSFW/ making out, mentions of injury and violence, slight mention of a choking kink? and some strong language!

(I do not own Fallout or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @goodsirs.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

'Y'know, you may be one of the stupidest goddamn people left on this planet. And I've seen a hell of a lotta stupid people.'

You know better to think that the one and only Ghoul: the slinking shadow that steadily tails and entraps every inch of the starkly barren world he can reach, the infamous bounty feared in every town, from Philly to Rivet City, would be one for pleasantries. Yet, even during your brief period travelling with the man across the wake of the formerly 'glorious' West-coast America, his callousness often left you wishing for the sweet silence of a Nuclear Winter.

Even Cooper Howard himself recognises the fact that he doesn't exactly, well, radiate off anything that could be called close to a succouring nature. Hell, he would be happy to radiate off anything that wouldn't have you spending his valuable time making detours to wandering doctors holed up in blood-splattered tents to use his hard-earned money in bartering for caps off your next bottle of Rad-X. He supposes, as you had shaken the bottle in front of his frowning face and wandered back off into the crowning desert sun, that if he could work himself back up to being unenthused, he would be able to count it as his first win in over two hundred years.

'Well, if you tried to stop fighting every single person still left out here I wouldn't have to risk my ass stupidly running in to save you', you retort, gnashing your teeth and trying your best not to squirm against his chest as he rips a fragment of broken plate from the back of your shoulder.

It wasn't often that you were allowed to light a fire in the wilds of the Wasteland: far too many radroach nibble bites littered your legs, far too many gash-covered tentacles slashes from the repulsive Centaurs marked your outer arms. However, as the two of you had spent your seemingly so lovely afternoon out on the highway being ambushed by a group of bloodthirsty Raiders, you had browbeaten the Ghoul into allowing the two of you such a special treat. An empty bottle of Nuka Cola lies by your faded makeshift floor covering that acts as your mattress, and you sigh in relief as the warmth of the flames licks across your tired arms.

Your soon drawn out of your repose by the feel of The Ghoul's cowboy boots thumping against either side of your legs; he awkwardly tries to leave enough room that he's not straddling your back, but his legs won't quite dip down enough to be more than halfway off the floor.

It leaves him having to scrape himself forward until his groin is nearly pressed against your tailbone, and you can feel the hem of his hat brush up your neck as he idly surveys the extent of your injuries. As he fidgets the strap of your vest down past the joint of your shoulder, you have to breathe in sharply to stop yourself grunting at the sharp scratch of his glove's rough seams as he drags his hand down.

'You're right', he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, dragging a strip of musty cloth out of his satchel bag and pressing it against your oozing wound. 'Your ass really is fucking stupid if you think that you were helpin'.' You grimace as a flash of stimulation and mortification flashes through your body; whether the pain in your gut is from the flesh wounds or from the clutch of thick leather as the Ghoul tantalisingly rakes his fingers up the tender skin of your shoulder and grips, you're too distracted to try and find out.

Sweeping your eyes over the fire-brushed ground that cracked and and crumbled underneath your heel, you can understand his frustration at you. At the world. Scorch marks litter the dusty ground around your make-shift campsite, the plasma rifles and energy weapons the Fiends had managed to barter, steal, and smuggle out from the Van Graffs stock lying in blasted pieces around the fragments of rusted metal once shielding the long gone diesel pumps. The violence - the anger, it always seemed never ending. Gosh, what you wouldn't give for a canopy right now: to stop the sun burns from blistering your face, to hide the sudden hush of shame and embarrassment that rose flush up your face like a mushroom cloud.

'Yeah, well, I did come running- you're welcome, by the way-', you start, but the Ghoul, as venomous a man as he is, cuts short your reply by prodding the point of one of the needles holding the tail edge of his coat together into the hanging flaps of your skin. Your hand balls into a fist as you feel the sharp tip scrape over muscle; you try your best not to whimper as his poison slits through your veins and slithers down to corrode your very soul, but the relief. Oh, god, corruption has never felt so good as the Ghoul's free hand sliding down to cup your ribcage. His middle and ring finger took turns tapping against your waist, a slight huff coming from his mouth and tingling against the shell of your ear.

At first, you think the Ghoul is mad at you: pissed off that if any of the Raiders had survived and scampered off back to their chem-den to frenziedly retell their confrontation with a certain duster-clad gunslinger, a certain ruthless reputation - a certain long upheld persona, would be tarnished. That he was aggravated in having to waste his dwindling supply of bullets in wasting the spiky-hair fiend that had sprung out from the door of the thought abandoned Red Rocket Truck Stop just as you were busy body slamming his friend to the ground. That he was embittered at the fact that you had the incredibly anserine idea to stop off in the middle of goddamn nowhere: somewhere straight off your Pip-Boy map to nestle down for the night on your route to the New Vegas strip.

Enraged, indeed, by the fact that he may have to admit that he wanted to save your life.

'You call that running?', he puffs out a chuckle, unceremoniously wiping the blood of the needle by using the back of your vest. 'I call that leaping up yonder head over ass across that Nuka-Cola machine.' He lets go of your side, much to your disappoint, and looks at you disapprovingly as you turn around to face him. He's waving the syringe edge of a stimpak in your general direction, and you make sure to slap his hand extra hard as you grab it off him.

'You know, cowboy, you were the one that asked me to tag along. Not the other way round', you groan in exhilaration as you stab the needle into the knife wound on your thigh, and that first hit of the Stimpak courses through your muscle. Cooper has to clench his fingers into the leather of his fist to stop himself from going feral right there and then. He sniffs loudly, scrunching up his nose and casting his gaze to the fireside to try and hide his displeasure.

'Well', he manages to choke out between clenched teeth, gripping onto his own leg so harshly he wonders if he's drawn blood between his claws, 'you are such delightful company.'

For the first time in his life, Cooper Howard wants to just... ride away from his problems. That's all you were supposed to be: a solution. A resource. Another object to exploit, to foist upon his own callous needs so that he may survive another day in this merciless hell pit. A life for a hundred and fifty vials felt like a mighty fair trade in the disintegrating shit-show of post-apocalyptic commerce.

It had been easier that way, luring you away from the only small shack left among the rubble of the underground Subway Station that the Fiends hadn't left splattered with blotted rivers of crimson and half-mangled body parts. It had been so much simpler, as he had shoved the still fresh bodies of the murderers and cannibals off the side of the Metro escalator, that he was here to save you. That he had no knowledge of the bounty held over your head by the Enclave, or of the reasons that you had become so... acquainted with the New California Republic during your month long travels for the Crimson Caravan Company. As the door had groaned open, he was left pointing his pistol in your face: a towering penumbra, larger than life, that seemed to swallow every inch of swinging lamplight around your doorway in a veiled sinfulness. He had found it so much easier, as he peered down at your gloomy face and smirked as the unmistakable sound of a Ripper reared closer to his head, that he was here to be your saviour.

That's right. As he had offered you protection: a safe route away, a constant presence, your second shadow on your journey back to the Strip for only a measly few caps, he had found it so much easier to pretend that this wasn't personal. That the way you shook his hand hadn't made his skin prickle, hadn't been the first thing his nerves had alighted at since the last fading memory he had of caressing his wife. That the way you had strapped your leather armour pauldron around your left shoulder, and pulled up the hem of your trouser leg to strap a hidden knife to your calf didn't have him unconsciously dragging his tongue along the cracks of his bottom lip, and left him staring in bemusement. The incredulousness that had his eyes glazing over and the bottom of his stomach clenching as the two of you pried open the doors back up to the surface, and he had nonchalantly inquired as to who had... disposed of the Fiends before his arrival here. You had just shrugged, throwing a smirk at him from behind your shoulder, and he couldn't help but feel his own mouth twitch up to mirror your reaction.

It had been so, so much easier to pretend that you were just another bounty. That you were the first person, since he had lost Janey in another life, that had made him feel something other than contempt. Or worse, nihility. Nothingness. Just a hodgepodge script of fabricated and fictional lines that he reeled off as if it were more than just second-nature; an amalgamation of everything hollow and horrid that he had spent so much of his long-lost life trying desperately to bury.

But Cooper knew better than anyone, that nothing, and no one, could stay buried forever.

And with every returned smile: every lingering brush of some Caravan Trader's fingers on your arm as they tried to sell you some over-priced snake oil, every repulsive simper of a NCR trooper as they tried to buy you a bottle of vodka during your rare stops at some remote barrack, had the rot he had constructed within his soul become that little bit more mutilating.

The silence between you is deafening. And so you do something really stupid: you decide to ask him about his dirt-stained outfit.

'So', you drawl, turning yourself around so your legs are crossed out by your side, doing your best to stay firmly seated between the tensing muscles of the Ghoul's thick thighs. He draws his spurs in a line across the sand, but to your astonishment, and wild delight, he doesn't pull his legs open any further. 'Did you rob a real cowboy or something? I didn't think they were real. The only ones we ever saw were those rugged, way too contrived looking ones on those old movies.'

Your fingers curl over the edges of his collar, tentatively letting your fingers drop to rest against the sharp gap against his breastbone.

A muscle in Cooper's jaw jumps.

Oh. Oh. You'd never seen him actually angry before, behind all that cowboy western shooter charade.

For a moment, you're worried you've offended him somehow; a faraway look seems to draw him into the pale billows that smoke up from the orange flames, and a look that you've never seen before- never could even contemplate drooping the face of the suddenly so haggard looking man sitting by your side flitted across his scrunching face.

Forlorn. He looked so forlorn.

Neither of you are sure if he's even conscious of his arm moving, snaking itself across the small of your back to clutch almost painfully against the meat of your hip. His thumb strokes against the outline of your bone: probing, testing, clawing and pinching as if he had repeated the action over and over and over again in his mind.

'This? This is as old as the dirt and the worms.'

He doesn't react, doesn't move the frozen stone of his stoic face when you hesitantly grip onto his fingers, and slowly... god, so slowly, pull his glove off and drop it on the ground. Suddenly feeling so exhausted, your droop your head down against the dried sweat on your neck and watch yourself place your hand gingerly over his own, holding him in a wary vice against your side.

'What... what's a worm', you tentatively ask, your eyes wide open in worry that your question might break the provisionary affinity of this moment.

Cooper actually... snorts, a smirk threatening to break across his face as he looks out of the corner of his eye at you. 'An 'ol creature that used to live under the soil.' His eyes burn a hole into your irises, and he finally cracks out in a sallow grin as he contemplates the fact that he has your whole, enraptured attention. 'In fact, almost a whole lot like you.'

You smack his shoulder, but he only tilts his head back with an inquisitive gloat on his lips. He tips his head down, moving his other free hand to grab and squeeze the other side of your waist, making you woefully buck back against the bottom button of his shirt as the pit of your bottom begins to thrum with a devastating heat.

'Now', you can hear the teasing in his voice as he dips his spine down to hover over the shell of your ear. 'The real question is, where in the sweet hell would you have seen such heinous films such as those?'

His hand crawls like sweet spiderwebs across to your bellybutton, taking your breath away as he cups his palm against your skin and carts you back till your resting against the side of his chin, entangling you against the last vestige of the man he's entombed within the Stygian shadows.

'My ma used to show them to me and my brother if we had been extra good. She spent a whole three months saving up whatever metal scraps she could scavenge to go trade over at the General Store in Goodsprings and buy ourselves a real life television. The picture was blurry as shit, and we only had one holotape that I swear I ended up being able to quote back to front by the time I was sick of watching it. But hell, if we didn't crowd around the floor in wonder and dream about being a mysterious, rifle swinging stranger that roamed around the wastes saving people.'

Cooper purses his lips, swallowing thickly as he lassos your words in a whirlwind around his mind. After what seems like an eternity of listening to the soft whistle blow through the cartilage of his nose, of noting the quiet scurry of Bark Scorpions barbing through the pale tufts of faraway brushes, and the sound of your own heart hammering against your ribcage, each hit cracking your ribcage open with a sledgehammer, Cooper grumbles a reply.

'Y'know, there's an old saying back where I'm from - one that those folks in those movies you... respected use' to say. Feo, fuerte y formal. It means you're ugly, strong, and dignified. And shit, I can say for sure that you've got ugly ticked off that list.'

'You cheeky shit-', you start, but you can't help but shove your hand against your mouth to stop yourself from laughing. With a jolt forward over your stomach, you wince at the pain that flashes through your body at your only recently closed wounds. The Ghoul snarkily utters a tut tut, making you actually fucking whimper aloud this time when his hands grab your love handles, lifts you up, and slaps you down atop his lap. A faint slip from the curve of your buttocks sliding down to settle against his inner thigh has him hissing against the back of your head.

Even though there was no chance of it ever occurring, the Ghoul loosely clenched his fingers around your throat and tilted your head back until your throat went dry, as if daring you to move away from him again.

'Ain't your fault darlin'', he twangs out in that hoarse voice of his, his tongue flicking as smooth as molasses against the shell of your ear: his pointed edge darting a sticky trail up to your inner ear. 'It ain't your fault that you look like a molerat.'

You snort, and Cooper finds himself smiling at the sound of a noise he hasn't heard since his daughter was... since his daughter was...

'You remind me of someone I used to know, you know that? She was... she was far too sweet. Far too good for all this shit too.'

'Aha, there he is.' You wrestle out of his grasp and turn your head disbelievingly. The Ghoul looks almost taken aback, before he draws back into himself and fixes himself to stare you down. 'Finally making an appearance after all this time, are we? Good to see I'm finally getting through to you.'

'Now what the hell is that supposed to mean?', he bares his teeth, gnashing them together almost instinctively.

'I mean, I think that was as close to an honest exchange with the man inside you I'm ever going to have.'

That makes him start.

Pensively, he watches you, assessing and appraising the quirks and emotions that wander across your face as he waits for you to finish your accusation.

'And unless you stop sticking your blaster in the face of every creature that walks and talks, probably your last as well.'

The Ghoul swallows thickly, doing his best to seem as straight laced as usual, but growing more and more discourteous in his manner by the almost sinful way he's darting your eyes down to your lips and allowing them to hover there. 'Now darlin', I'm only exchanging pleasantries.'

'Is that really what you'd call yourself? And here I thought it was cantankerous.'

'Considering the literal crap-hole you grew up in I'm surprised you even know that word, now.'

'The sewers are empty, Cowboy - I'd say there's more piss on you from Dogmeat than down there. Besides, I lived in a Subway Station... asshole', you spit out at your feet, hitting the fragmented remains of one of your assailants helmet spikes.

A jab pokes at your inner thigh; the clenched thumb of the Ghoul branding into your skin as he finally looks you dead in the eyes with a cold stare. 'And there you are.'

And yet there's something. There's something lingering there, in the dark. In the swirl of his irises. In the only part of his body that still remains fully intact. Fully him. Something valorous. A convolution of steadfastness and pride. An imploringness.

'Suppose...', you inhale sharply, not realising that the two of you have managed to claw and scrape and crawl inch by inch closer to each other during your... showdown. 'Suppose', you buck your knees forward until you have enough leverage to haunch yourself up and turn, using the exertion to swivel yourself round and straddle the Ghoul's legs. Your gaze dips down to watch the purse of his strangled lips, his head slowly raising itself to unmask itself from the murk. 'That we aren't so different after all.'

Before you have time to regret your words, the stout pressure of clashing thumbs and fingers have jerked against your chin and pulled you down to smash against Cooper's mouth. Gnashing teeth pull at your bottom lip without a moment's warning, slicing down to draw blood. Cooper pulls back to snarl, before diving back in and licking away the thin trail of blood driplets that dribble down your chin dimple with the flat edge of his impoverished tongue.

Your chest rises and falls in quick succession as the man leaning his weight eagerly against your stomach ravishes you, growling as he reaches down to pull at the bottom of your thighs, and raise your knees up so he can cup your ass and knead the sweet flesh.

Part of you wants to rip his clothes off him right there and then, part of the recesses of your mind worries about the impending danger of the Wastelands: a roaming gang of looters, the unlucky shimmer that forewarns the arrival of a Nightstalker, but all of you wants to slam your hands around the side of this man's face and knock him straight to the ground with the ferocity of your kiss.

Before you can even make it past the squishing his cheeks phase, you’re distracted from your plan by the pressure point of his fingers teasingly prodding against the outline of your inseam. You can't enact your plan - you can't, not when you can feel the tip of his finger run slowly... slowly... god! So agonisingly slowly up your inner thigh. Can feel the warm, almost ruinating nibble of his top teeth against the pulse point of your neck, before he leaves an apologetic slide of his inner lip against it: something bright and burning and beautiful making the nerves of his body scream as it gnaws away at their rot.

Perhaps, perhaps there was still time for the Ghoul to exhume the mouldering remains of Cooper Howard after all.

[vip3r-r]

Hi! I noticed you do nsfw, if your comfortable could I request some headcanons of venture in bed IM BRAINROTTING SO MUCH ABT THEM SORRY!!

No because I really thought nobody was going to ask for nsfw and I GOT nsfw request (╥_╥) this was so fun because tell me they wouldn’t be such a dork while in serious situations, I love them so much I’m so sad they aren’t on the game anymore BRING THEM BACK— anywho I hope you like it! Request are still open and I will most likely post some more later after I wake up from a nap

Warnings- bad spelling maybe, didn’t double check and English didn’t my first language, tried my hardest to make it gender neutral! (You can always request if you want it f/m/gn!!)

this could go two ways…

deep in satisfaction, holding you tight or roaming your body feeling with their rough hands, looking down at you with half open eyes, letting out small huffs as they work their magic with your body

or they could be saying the stupidest of jokes or some random facts about rocks while their fingers hit that spot that makes you arch your back.

i feel like venture would love to be behind you, your legs open, their hands playing with you as they smile in satisfaction, hearing you cry and try to close your legs but you can't because they won't let you <3

would love to see you like this when you have their jacket/coat on, something about that makes them go crazy

isn't crazy in bed, more of a softy that wants to please you and occasionally wants it back

after sex, as you lay down relaxing, venture would probably lay rocks on your body while they tell you about how the found it or the history if it

loves to cuddle with you while you two get enough energy to go shower or eat, brings you water or cleans your body if it was a rather harsh session

i feel like they wouldn't dare do it at work (because they love their job) but probably have a sloppy makeout session

venture eat rocks, of course they're gonna bite you… loves to leave them somewhere where only they know, but find it funny to leave one or two where people could see it if you slightly moved your clothes

“oh whats that” venture says moving your sweater out off your neck “pika boo” you tried to fix it but they move it again “i see it” – “found it” – “cant hide it” – “hello there” etc

That’s it for this one!! I kinda ran out of ideas because it’s literally 5am in here and my brain ain’t working in that area of town yet— you are always welcome to ask with a mere detail request!!

[dynamightsfave]

bakugo katsuki—interviews

bakugo katsuki fucking hates interviews. in every shape and form. public conferences? "i did my fucking job. the building crashed down because the base sucked ass. that's not my fucking fault" one on one interviews? "why the fuck do they have so many damn questions about my methods? let them try and do what i do!" talk shows? "if you're not gonna ask me about my job, i don't know what the hell i’m doing here, my personal life is my goddamn business. also, if i wanted comedy i’d go to the fucking circus, at least the clowns wear their actual uniform instead of shitty suits"

safe to say, dynamight is every interviewer's nightmare. he's a wonderful and attentive person off camera (he’s still an asshole, but a nicer one), but when you start asking him questions and place a camera on his face, the brass defensiveness, one of the things that lingers from his stubborn teenage years, shines through. that and that mouth that curses more than a sailor in their golden years ever has. there's offers to take him of course, being in the top ten heroes ranking of not only japan, but the whole world. he's mostly partnered up in these interviews, so there's someone to lead the talking and answer for him when he doesn't want to give into "the stupidest fucking question he's had the misfortune to hear". 

red riot and shoto are the ones that are usually designated as his babysitters, but other old classmates have appeared onscreen with him as well. even deku, now a teacher, has made special features. but there's never much demand for an individual interview with pro hero dynamight, and if there ever is, bakugo usually rejects them without looking much into it.

which is why, his secretary was very confused when the mention of a last attempt at a talk show made his boss perk up rather than frown instantly. his lip didn’t instantly curl with a groan and his red irises didn’t meet the back of his skull. instead, he curiously eyed the schedule placed in front of him, and gave a curt nod in thanks when he was done. ryu developed a sense of uneasiness that took over his system. surely that was a sign of the end of the world. but he couldn’t really say anything, pinky and chargebolt recommended the interviewer and swore it would go well. maybe they were right? they needed it too, dynamight hadn't appeared on many public events lately. so there's that, now he just had to pray bakugo didn’t fuck it up.

and that brings us to right now, with dynamight taking a seat in front of you and the public’s applause dimming. the tension that fills the air lingers in the audience, and for once, bakugo and his interviewer seem to be completely at ease. ryu can’t help to think to himself that this is yet another sign that the world is about to end, and he wonders if he should call up his family to say a final goodbye. for now, maybe it’s better he focuses on what’s in front of him.

"great explosion murder god dynamight!" you smile at him, as if he was a friend you’re glad to see again, "so glad you could make it!"

you have that magnetism that makes every guest comfortable around you, familiarity being the base of your show. it’s a big part of why it became so popular, the charming host that interacts with their audience and speaks their mind in such an easy way.

katsuki smirks, chest a bit puffed and fingers drumming the armrest.

"sort of didn’t have a goddamn choice, did i?" while his response only makes the people watching tense more, you only chuckle, nodding as if you understood like nobody else.

"we’re our managers’ puppets aren’t we? either way, wonderful to have you," and goddammit, you never sound insincere, "these days it’s hard to have a minute of great explosion murder god dynamight"

"you know what they say, villains don’t rest. and if they don’t rest that just means us heroes have to work twice as hard as them" did he just answer without cursing? oh the world definitely ends today.

bakugo maintains eye contact with you while he lounges on his seat like he owns the place. he’s made hundreds of interviewers and others shrink with that attitude of his, but from the looks of it, you’re not only not one bit bothered by it, but you almost encourage it. your arms flex as you lean in towards him, agreeing with him.

"all right, since i don’t want to waste much of that precious time of yours..." eyes twinkling, you could even say teasing—dare i say flirty—, you tap a small melody onto your notebook with your pen, "let’s dive right in to the questions! promise this won’t be long. first off, i want to solve a doubt i’ve had for some time now"

he arches a brow, accepting the challenge. there’s the same amusement in his eyes that yours have, it sends chills across the room. it’s so weird to see the bakugo katsuki being not mean to someone that isn’t a little kid or a polite fan.

"i’ve said it a couple times now, and i have to admit it’s a bit of a mouthful. “great explosion murder god dynamight”. why that name? how on earth did you come up with it?"

it’s funny. you say it as if it isn’t a mouthful. quite the opposite, it rolls off your tongue like quick, flowing as if it’s escaped a million times, a prayer you know by heart. bakugo rolls his eyes, similar comments follow him practically every day everywhere he goes since he made the name up. he’s built up skin to them, not that they ever bothered him, he’s pretty proud of his hero name. some might say too proud.

"it’s a reflection of everything i am," he winces after a second, "maybe not the murder part."

"i do hear die is one of your favorite words tho"

"yeah well, it’s good to let the emotions out or whatever the hell. i try not to say it as much anymore, people say it’s rude or some shit," his hand makes a fast motion, as if to sweat it off, he really doesn’t give a damn, "anyway, the name’s like that because it had to embody how fucking awesome i am"

"ah, that makes sense," you nod along, not bothered by the curses, "a loud and bright name like your explosions. it does suit you"

at the compliment, the smirk returns to his lips, a small huff with it. he shuffles around to sit higher, now getting an idea of how this interview is going to go. katsuki finds that he doesn’t really mind it, at least the questions are off to a good start. and the host... well let’s just say he likes this one.

"i know, i picked it myself," he states, and you can’t help but laugh at how sure of himself he is. reminds you of a 6-year-old, not a single ounce of doubt in his body about how cool they are.

"would you say it was inspired by something else? maybe a hero you look up to?"

"nah, ‘t was all me," liar.

"i see. a unique name to say the least. but on the topic, is there any hero that you look up to? someone you aspire to be like. other than, i'm sure, best jeanist"

"obviously," he repeats, "but i mean; every kid and their goddamn mother has dreamt of becoming all might, he was n.1 longer than anyone. i’m sort of a basic bitch that way. when i was little i wanted to be like him, so i followed that dream until i made it real. and now i push myself to be as great as he was and more. plus ultra and all that bullshitr"

"wow. sounds like hard work," he grunts in agreement, and you purse your lips, "we all agree all might is a one of the greatest symbols we have, must have been incredible to be able to study under him. you mentioned the school’s motto. can you tell us about that? the ua days?"

katsuki smiles, his eyes drifting away to his hands. you can’t help but think he looks rather handsome, reminiscing his high school.

"in one word: it was fucking insane. he brought a lot of insight about what to expect in the actual field, and how to treat with bystanders—the little motherfuckers—, and he was always pushing us to do our best. he’s the sort of person you just know cares about what he’s doing," he explains, "our homeroom teacher, mr. aizawa was also very much like that, even though he didn’t look it. ua students are lucky when it comes to teachers. but they’re all ungrateful snotty brats"

it’s the first time bakugo katsuki has ever said something nice in public, even if it has some mean side dishes (wouldn’t be something bakugo katsuki said otherwise). at this point, it’s just you two in the room. no lights, no cameras, no audience, not even the questions you’ve jotted down in your notebook. only a conversation between two people. katsuki wonders if it’s a you effect, and he figures it must be, because he’s never as comfortable as he is talking to you. it comes so easy.

you smile, and it takes everything in you to not reach and put your hand on his arm at his words, the reminder of all the people watching in the room and through the cameras a dying reminder in the back of your mind. you like having him here, and you frankly don’t understand why other hosts dread his visits.

"sounds like a wonderful experience. i’ve talked to others from your course and they all speak of it with so much fondness, just like you. even with the hardships you had to endure," you clear your throat, voice dropping to barely a mutter. even the mic strapped to your blouse has trouble picking it up, "but i’m sure you don’t like thinking of them, i know i don’t. so, i know you’ve said all might and eraserhead are big inspirations, but do you have any other people you admire?"

you know you’re pushing your luck. your tone is far too friendly to be considered professional now and he’s not one to be heartfelt on camera. but if you could just get him to confirm what cellophane and shoto said last week... what you just know is the truth, but dynamight is a bit too proud to admit. you can see it in the way he looks away and puffs his cheeks to blow air.

"i mean, obviously, i’m incredibly grateful to best jeanist and edgeshot, they fucking saved my life," his cheeks grow the slightest bit of pink under your intense gaze. he almost chuckles as you nod entranced and edge just a tiny bit closer awaiting for the true answer. he guesses he might as well indulge, so, with a much lower tone, he continues, "and ya know, in class there were others that were pretty good too. not as incredible as i am, but close enough. if i had to pick any, maybe shitty hair and the dumbass deku. i guess"

screw the lights. your smile is blinding. it shines so much bakugo suddenly doesn’t feel like the answer was practically yanked from his throat. this is too much for his rearranged heart.

"that’s funny, they speak pretty highly of you too," you giggle. your eyes clash, and the small smile that forms on his face is instinct, he can’t control it. one, two, three.

"of course they fucking do. they better, else i’ll crush their bodies," he huffs, snapping back to his position before he was gobsmacked by you.

"all right, i’ve just got a couple more questions before we let you go," you get back on track too, despite the heat on the back of your neck, "uhm... oh yeah! well i guess you’ve answered this already, but just in case. you said red riot and deku were people you admired as heroes, i take it they are also the easiest to partner up with? i know pro hero deku is out of commission at the moment, but back when you still worked together"

dynamight actually thinks about this one. he furrows his brows, and his weight shifts on the sofa. he hums as his hand strokes his chin.

"well, it depends on the job. generally, i do like to partner up with them, we understand each other very well, as do everyone form our class. the time we spent training with each other pays off. so yeah, they’re easy to work with. but also, the half ‘n half bastard is quick to respond to what i do, and ponytail is a great strategist when it comes to infiltration or a mission that takes planning. the damn rabbit gets on my nerves a lot, but we make a good team. she should start thinking about retiring though, before she starts dragging me down"

"it’s lovely to hear the heroes of japan are so tight and coordinated. i must say, hearing you praise them is refreshing," your lip gets caught in your teeth in an attempt to stop the growing smirk, but your eyes betray you.

"oi, don’t misinterpret what i’m fucking sayin’. they’re all still pains in my ass, each worse than the last one"

"uh huh... okay, last question. if you weren’t a hero, what would you be?" that takes him aback.

"fuck you mean? i was always gonna be a damn hero. i don’t know. maybe one of those people that handle bombs in the army or some shit like that," he shrugs, but then a beat passes, "a firefighter"

"final answer?" you arch a brow. he grunts an affirmation, "o-kay! well, it’s been a pleasure to have you here, i hope we did not waste much of your time, but you’re free to go now. i appreciate that you didn’t shout"

he chuckles, following your steps as you get up and circle your table to get to him and say goodbye. the audience is clapping for you two, ryu is releasing the breath he’d been holding all throughout the interview, and the camera people are preparing to shut off. you reach him, and just like his smile before, his next actions are pure instinct. even more, they’re almost a routine.

his hand reaches for your waist, and he effortlessly pulls you closer, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. now, in this routine, it’s not common that you tense up. usually, you wrap your arms around him and nuzzle into his chest. you look up to him, eyes wide, and it takes one millisecond for him to realize what he’s done. he curses under his breath, and you laugh.

"welp, there’s that. no more hiding this," the stunned public is so silent they hear your whispers, "see you at home?"

katsuki gives you that low laugh you love, squishes your waist, and nods.

"yeah, see you at home"

ryu dials his family to say his goodbyes as his boss steps off the stage and the audience recovers from the shock. he prays the call gets through before the world suddenly explodes.

luckily, the world doesn’t combust, and he lives to see the heart magazines with your image on their covers and headlines screaming about japan’s favorite talk show’s host and potty mouth’s newly discovered relationship.

[steddiealltheway]

Some College AU

It’s about an hour after what Eddie is now naming “The Incident” when he storms into Nancy’s room. He glances down to the left where Nancy's roommate leaves her red converse - announcing she’s in the room. But right now, they're gone and only Nancy's shoes are in the spot. So, Eddie flops down on the plush rug in the center of the room and covers his eyes with his hands.

“Nancy, I fucked up. It was so embarrassing,” Eddie sighs and hears the telltale click of a laptop shutting from above him. She must be in her lofted bed, but it doesn’t matter because he needs to rant. “You know, maybe I should go ahead and drop out and save myself the embarrassment of once again running into the human embodiment of every single wet dream I’ve ever had.”

There’s a slight gasp that Eddie knows is Nancy’s “Eddie we’ve been friends forever, but there are just some things I do not need to know about you” gasp. But it’s not her turn to talk. In fact, she’s the exact reason he’s in this predicament because without her convincing him to apply to the same college and actually go with her, then he would never be here.

Eddie groans and rolls over onto his stomach burying his face in the rug. He points up behind him gesturing vaguely towards where Nancy is sitting and says, “This is all your fault, but thank you for always shampooing your carpet it smells nice.” It comes out more as a muffled mess, so Eddie sighs and turns his head to the side.

“But anyways. I had my damn intro to economics class, and please tell me why we have to take foundation courses later because I think it’s the stupidest thing on this planet except for me at the moment. Because before that class a beautiful, kind man had to clean chocolate milk out of his sweater because of me. And this is exactly why I will never show my face in the dining hall again or anywhere on campus, so I will never run into that perfect man again. End of story.” Eddie finishes his rant, knowing he’s going to say more because he still feels like a stupid idiot. Because yes, spilling a drink on someone is bad, but that’s just clumsiness and nerves and that’s forgivable. But when Adonis himself is target of said drink, and the drink is goddamn chocolate milk… that’s unforgivable.

Eddie groans and rolls onto his back to stare up at Nancy who will likely have her head poked over the side of her bed with that flat look of “are you done yet?” solely expressed through a tight smile. Only, Nancy isn’t peaking over the side of her bed. But out of the corner of his eye, he spots someone else glancing over the edge of Nancy’s roommate’s lofted bed.

Holy shit. It’s hot dining hall man. “Fuck shit fuck damnit,” Eddie eloquently says, scrambling to get up and immediately backing up into Nancy’s desk. “What the fuck?” Eddie heaves out. He’s died, and gone to his own personal Hell, that’s the only explanation for it.

“I’ve never been called beautiful before,” the man says with a big smile, cheeks slightly pink, and holy shit he’s so beautiful. Maybe Eddie has died and gone to his own personal heaven. Then the man is climbing down the ladder and giving Eddie the view of his life before he’s right in his space. “I’m Steve,” he says, holding his hand out.

Eddie automatically takes it and wills any part of his brain to work but it’s all been turned to goo as he shakes his hand. “What are you doing here?” Eddie asks, and he thanks himself for at least somehow reacting although he sounds pretty breathless.

“Robin’s my best friend. I'm just waiting for her to get back, but I think her and Nancy went out to get groceries or something. But it’s nice to formally meet you…” Steve trails off, and Eddie notices he’s still holding his hand with his very clammy one.

“Eddie,” he supplies when he realizes what Steve is prompting. Gosh he has such nice lips... and eyes… and hair… and a really nice nose honestly and… Eddie stops when he realizes he’s blatantly checking the man out once again. “Shit,” Eddie mumbles under his breath and takes his hand back.

“I’ve also never been called the human embodiment of someone’s wet dreams before,” Steve says. Oh shit. He’s really going to bring that up and not move past it. Eddie sighs, and prepares to apologize when he notices… Steve is smiling. An overwhelmingly charming type of smile as if he was flirting.

Eddie opens his mouth and says the first thing that comes to mind, “I spilt my chocolate milk on you.” He cringes. Okay, thinking before speaking is something else he needs to work on this semester. Got it.

“You did,” Steve says with an amused smile. He points to his shirt. “Changed and everything. Plus, the other sweater is fine, and it was too warm to wear today anyways.”

That is an absolute lie because it’s freezing outside. But Eddie doesn’t call him out on it. Instead he says, “Blue is a nice color on you. In the color way, not the… depressed way. Jesus H. Christ.” Eddie pauses, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. He opens them and with a wide smile he says, “Hell of a way to make a first impression.”

“I’ve noticed you around before,” Steve admits as if it were no big deal although their campus is fairly large, and Eddie had somehow never seen him before today, so he has no idea how that was possible.

“How have I never noticed you before?” Eddie asks honestly but takes pride in the way it makes Steve’s face flush. “Maybe you can make it up to me - all that lost time when my eyes were not graced by your beauty.” Yeah, he's still got it.

Steve laughs pleasantly and looks away somewhat bashfully, but he quickly recovers and leans into Eddie space. “Just tell me how to make it up to you, and I’ll do it.”

Eddie swallows. Oh, this is dangerous. He is dangerous. And Eddie knows exactly what he’s going to request first-

The door opens, and Eddie and Steve’s heads snap to the side. Nancy walks in and freezes.

“What’s wrong Nance? Why did you-” Robin walks in and also freezes. She takes a second to recover before she cracks a big smile and nudges Nancy. "You owe me ten bucks."

Nancy sighs and sets her grocery bags down then digs through her purse emerging with ten dollars which she hands to Robin. What the hell?

"What's that about?" Steve asks, not taking a step out of Eddie's personal space, but he's really not complaining.

"Robin bet ten bucks that you two would somehow meet and hit it off before we could introduce you guys," Nancy says then turns and smacks Robin on the arm. "You planned this didn't you?"

Robin puts her hands up. "I had no idea Steve or Eddie were coming over. Not my fault that we gave them copies of our keys."

"They're for emergency use only though," Nancy says then turns an accusatory finger at the boys. "What was your emergency?"

Eddie catches a quick glance at Steve. They both know what Eddie's "emergency" was, but Steve looks a bit reluctant to admit his. A quick glance towards Nancy, and Eddie is immediately spilling out the truth, "I ran into a hot guy in the dining hall and spilled chocolate milk all over him and needed to rant."

Nancy looks disappointed but satisfied in the answer, so she turns to Steve expectantly. Steve shoots Eddie a quick glance and runs a hand through his hair. He gives in and admits, "A cute guy spilled chocolate milk on me, and I wanted to talk about it..."

Eddie gapes at Steve. There's no way. There's absolutely no way this gorgeous man was there for that reason. Holy shit. Steve turns to Eddie and softly smiles at him, and Eddie absolutely melts at the sight.

Robin laughs, "Nancy, you owe me twenty bucks." And bless Nancy, she reaches into her purse and hands Robin ten more dollars as Eddie and Steve continue to stare at each other.

Maybe going to college was the best thing Nancy has ever convinced Eddie to do.

I currently have about zero time to be writing stuff, but I missed you all and missed getting to write steddie content, so I'm just glad to get something down.

[systemadministratorclu]

Y'all, I just HAD to share this, because holy shit.

A little background first:

I run the drive-thru cash register window at a fast food joint. One of the shittiest jobs there is because some of the rudest/stupidest people on the planet come through the drive-thru, and one must have near superhuman patience to deal with it. That said, there are customers who come regularly and are not hard to deal with at all. And then there are some-very few and far between-that restore your faith in humanity a little every time they come.

This is about one such customer.

This guy comes every day at about the same time with his grandson (6 years old when this started, recently turned 7) and gets the exact same thing every time. To the point where now either I see their car or I hear the guy say his name (whichever happens first) and I'm already ringing them up. Because of this, the kid now thinks I have weirdly specific psychic powers, and has said he prefers coming to the place when I'm there. He's also decided I'm the best employee this place has. The granddad talks to me like I'm a human, they're always smiling and happy to see me (which means a lot in this line of work, let me tell you) and even on my shittiest days, they've managed to make me smile. I genuinely look forward to seeing these people every day.

Recently, grandson was hella excited to tell me he had a birthday coming up. Reminded me every day "my birthday's coming!" as most 6yo kids do.

Maybe I was feeling a little holiday spirit or something, but one day after work, I went to the Dollar Tree near the restaurant. I picked out a kid's birthday card and a Christmas card. I wrote a message in the Christmas one about what I just explained above, thanking them for bringing some joy to my days, because y'know what? People need to hear that shit. Especially in today's world. And I wanted them to know how much this meant to me. I wrote a little joke in the birthday card about not forgetting the day. Then I looked in my wallet, saw I had a $10 and a $1, and stuck the $10 in the birthday card. Addressed the birthday card to the kid and the Christmas one to kid and grandpa. I give the cards to them on their normal drive-thru visit. They are of course surprised (kid starts yelling "thank you" even though he hasn't gotten to open it yet) but thankful. Then the line moves on.

Fast forward to today.

I see the car come in but I don't start ringing the order up, because it's WAY early for them. I give my usual greeting, then I hear a woman's voice, so I think it's someone in the same kind of car. But when she asks "is this Hal?" I then realize it's the kid's mother, whom he has told all about me and who has come through with him before.

I say yes, and she tells me she's not here to order anything, just to see me, since kid and granddad are sick. I tell her to come on to the window, she does, and hands me a card and a nicely wrapped gift. I asked her to tell them hi for me, she said she would and then the line moved.

I got off on lunch break and opened card and gift.

I was not prepared. At all.

This is the gift...

...the card (no writing on the front).....

.....and the typed note inside the card that actually brought tears to my eyes.

......I'm still not over this. I will be thinking about how this went on for OVER HALF A FUCKING YEAR and I had no idea.

This is the kind of stuff that makes this shitty job worth it. People like this....We need more of in this world. I'm going to hold onto that note so when I feel like shit or I don't matter, I can look at it and know there's a kid out there who I am so important to that he got his dad to write a whole-ass letter, to some random stranger he only knows through his son, inviting me to their fucking house. I'm tearing up again as I write this, just thinking about it.

If that doesn't say "you matter", idk what does.

(And yes, I will go at some point, because how can I not? I'm not gonna dash this kid's hopes and make myself look like an enormous asshole. This is the RL version of being handed a toy phone and told it's ringing)

[leonw4nter]

So High School

RE4R!Leon x GN!Reader

You’d think that you would’ve learned a thing or two from making bets while tipsy and buzzing with liquid courage while intoxicated during your time in university, stupid decisions with their stupid outcomes ingrained in your head every time the tequila started to taste like water, which meant that it’s probably time to pay the tab and try to head home in one piece. A drunk man’s words really must be a sober man’s thoughts, the alcohol doing the final push to make the first move you’ve dreamed of doing towards your mysterious roommate, Leon. Him being gone for most of the time and for uncertain lengths of time gave you plenty of time to get it together and rehearse asking him for a coffee but whenever he was around, in the same space as you, it’s as if you never gathered the courage to talk to him.

“Basketball?” Leon echoed, slight confusion on his angular features as he nursed a glass of whiskey. “You sure?”

“‘Course,” you confidently respond, shooting him a sure grin. “Jus’ because I’m built like this doesn’t mean I don’t know how to ball.”

Leon chuckles, nodding before he shoots what remains in his glass. “That’s a bet. Loser buys the winner dinner, right?”

You throw him a clumsy thumbs-up. He inches closer towards you and holds his hand out for you to shake. “Gotta make it official.”

A handshake seals the deal, along with the fate that will befall you a few days later after he’s finally free from whatever work kept him occupied.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Now you’re digging around your wardrobe, looking for any sports-friendly clothing. You rarely work out or take some time off, very much out of shape so you’re already at a massive disadvantage with Leon. The man probably works out every single day, carrying the heaviest weights they have in the gym. Maybe even Leg Day’s golden boy, seeing how his thighs bulge within the confines of his pants and the way his calves looked sturdy as hell. If he somehow doesn’t know the nitty gritty of basketball and only knows the basic dribbling, you’re still going to be on the losing side because he’s got stamina and endurance that would last him hours, days even. He’s got height advantage too and it’s not that you’re tiny, it’s just going to be impossible to shoot with a skyscraper blocking the ball. Then again, it’s not like the ball will make it inside the ring even if he wasn’t doing anything to block it.

“Why’d I make that stupid, stupid bet?” You hiss to yourself as you finally snag a pair of black cotton fleece shorts. It still seemed to fit you so you threw it on the bed, moving to look for a top and some shoes to pair it with. “I’m going to lock myself in my room if I’m going to drink with him around.”

Taken over by indecisiveness yet still determined to look good while sweaty in terms of outfit choice, you decide to phone your friend for some advice. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself. What’s up?”

“I’m going to play basketball in… 15 minutes and I don’t know what to pair with my shorts.” You show it off inside the frame, twirling around as your friend looks on.

“It’s just shorts, you can pair it with anything. Why’s it so hard for you?”

“You don’t get it, man. I need to look perfect, even when I’m sweaty and smelly and tomato red–”

“Are you seeing someone?!”

“What? No! Well, I mean… I think they look good and ya know, I might have to buy him dinner because there’s no way I’m winning this.”

“Buy him dinner? Oh wait, this is the bet thing right–”

“Yeah… I’m never going to drink again, actually. This is the dumbest, stupidest decision of my life.”

“You’ve said that a million times but still drank and got drunk. Look where we are now.”

“Hey! I’m serious this time! And help me plan out an outfit!”

“Well shit, I dunno! A v-neck tee and a pair of Converse sneakers, simple but you’ll look cute. Right! Make the sneakers high cut.”

“Oh my god, thanks! I think I got those–”

A few gentle knocks tap against your door, Leon on the other side. You quickly skip to the door, not opening it too generously in order to block out the sight of your clothes lying everywhere on the side of your dresser.

“I hope you didn’t forget about the deal you made,” he says with a confident smirk. “I’m looking forward to dinner actually.”

You wanted to tell him that you were in the process of getting ready, having picked out what you’ll wear. You wanted to tell him that you’ll be ready in a few, bag loaded with a spare shirt and towels slung over your shoulder but the response stays frozen in your mind, unable to escape your mouth; if you tilt your head down and dare to look somewhere south, you’ll first be greeted by two blocks of solid square muscle straining through the black, short-sleeved shirt he wore, the color slightly faded with the amount of times he must’ve worn it. The real magnet, however, was the gray sweatpants he chose to wear. Nasty, filthy images flashed through your head as soon as you caught a glimpse of gray, shaking your head to clear your brain. He topped the look off with a neat pair of gray high top Converse sneakers, the shoes not worn that much since it looked newly bought.

“You didn’t back out, did you?” Leon chuckles, sending you back to Earth. “It’s okay if you did, I don’t wanna–”

“Naw, of course not! I was just about to get ready, sorry for keeping you waiting.”

“Great, I’ll be waiting in the living room. I’ll fill up our bottles while you get dressed, also got the ball ready. Borrowed it from a friend,” he says as he points to the ball kept in the nook of his curled muscular arm.

You give him a thumbs up, closing the door as he turns around to head to the direction of the living room. Skipping to your phone and seeing that you haven’t dropped the call yet, you quickly explain what happened to your friend and end it, chucking it inside your bag as you get ready.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“This outfit has got to be a distraction tactic,” you think to yourself as you walk to the outdoor court alongside Leon, occasionally dribbling the ball. “This man knows that gray sweats are a distraction and I’m going to end up focusing on the ball that is definitely not on his hand!”

If Leon did in fact decide on his current choice of clothing as a form of distraction, it might just work on you and you dislike the fact that it’s already working before the game even began.

“I like your shoes,” he says as he gestures to the pink sneakers you chose to wear in order to contrast the white and black of your upper clothing. “It suits you well.”

You mumble a thank you, also complimenting him. “You look good in sneakers too, I think you should wear it more often.”

His twinkling laughter kicks you in the back of the knee, weak from how fuzzy it made you feel. He nods and takes a mental note before he looks back down at his shoes, glad that you noticed the influence of your fashion choices on him. 10 minutes later, you two reach the court. Chucking your bags to a quiet corner of the court, the two of you head to the middle of the court; Leon passes you the ball, giving you a headstart to try and score your first point.

“I take it that you know the rules?” He asks as he moves into a defensive stance, crouching down slightly with bent knees.

“Yup,” you respond before not wasting any time and running to his side of the ring to shoot the ball. To no one’s surprise, the ball does a little twirl right at the rim before falling back down only to be snagged by Leon’s large hand without warning. “Hey!” you squeal, running after him. He waits for you to catch up with him before he makes a jump shot, sending the ball flying and into the ring as a satisfying thwoop follows the ball's entry in the net.

He easily gains four points ahead, dodging, turning, and expertly dribbling to trick you into thinking that he let the ball out of his sight. You can’t even be frustrated that you haven’t gotten a single point ever since the game started, too delighted in the genuine laughter and giggles coming from Leon; his smiles were sparse, blue eyes an ocean storm each time he came home. A rare smile would leave just as quick you caught one on his face, his face returning to look troubled but this time, he looked free and happier than you usually see him. Now, he gained an additional 3 points and grew even cockier with the wide gap of scores, along with the non-existent possibility of you winning over him. Despite your glee at seeing Leon look relaxed, you wanted to at least end the game with a point to your name. Leon didn’t mention anything about playing dirty and although he didn’t mention it because he assumed that you knew the rules and playing dirty was automatically out of the cards, you couldn’t help but feel a little devious.

Just as Leon softly nudged you, you over exaggerated a bent ankle and fell down, most of the impact centered on the heel of your palms. Though it hurt, it didn’t hurt too badly but Leon still let go of the ball and rushed to your side, the smile disappearing as he saw you sat on the ground.

“Are you alright?” He asked as he assessed your ankle, knee, and hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to–”

You got up and ran after the ball, pushing down the guilt that started to bubble up when you saw the hurt and fear that crossed Leon’s face. Finally, you caught up with the ball and dribbled it as you ran towards the hoop, jumping to shoot it. You expected an effort in vain, the ball to simply dance around the ring before dropping down but fortunately for you, the ball went inside the ring. Satisfied with ending the game at a single point for you, you flop down to the ground as you catch your breath. Leon skips up behind you, sitting by your side before he lays back on the dusty ground alongside you.

“Hey,” he pants as he catches his breath. “That wasn’t fair.”

“Didn’t say anything about playing dirty,” you quip as you tilt your head to face him.

“Played dirty but you still didn’t win, that’s a damn shame.” He says as he also tilts his own head to face you, a small smile dancing on his lips. He seems to have smiled a lot that day, you note. “I won, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Oh shut up, don’t let it get to your head… and, uh… um… thanks for being concerned for me, when I faked falling earlier. Felt kinda bad to be lying to you.”

“Hey, no biggie. I’m thankful that this one’s fake, most people on the ground that I see at work are beyond helping so I’m glad that you’re fine.”

Your eyes widen, his words triggering concern from you. Work? People on the ground beyond helping? Just what is this guy’s job? He doesn’t explain more about his job so you don’t pry for more, waiting for the time that he’s a lot more comfortable around you to share if he wishes to.

“So,” you say to change the subject. “What kinda dinner do you want? Nothing too expensive, though.”

“A dinner with you,” he smoothly responds. You sit up, resting your weight on your arms.

“Huh?”

“I want dinner with you. Anywhere, just take me out to dinner. A date, if that’s what you want to call it. Please.”

You stay silent, taking the time to process his words. He hasn’t shown a sliver of attraction towards you so his words take you by surprise but you’re pleased– very pleased.

“A date,” you quietly echo. “Sure, sounds nice.”

“When are you free?”

“On the 20th.”

“Me too.”

“So… that’s a date then?”

He nods, grinning. He gets up first, extending a hand to you as you both begin the walk back home.

NOTE - Not rlly sure on how to end this so it ended on a meh note 😭🙏 Writer's block got my ass, unfortunately. Anyways, I think I need to get my jaw checked bc the left side of my jaw clicks and hurts when I open my mouth widely to yawn or brush my teeth so yea :3 Almost forgot to mention that the title is based off of "So High School" by TS. I gotta feed my DMC readers in AO3 too so I'll dedicate some time to cooking something for them before returning to posting more Leon fics :3 Found out Laufey has a boyfriend and I fell to my knees as if I had a chance with her in the first place but I'm still very happy that she's finally found love and trusts someone enough to treat her well. Anyways, thank you for reading my fics!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I <333333333 UUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!

The dividers (the ones with the heart and star) are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[creedslove]

HIS ✨

Post outbreak QZ era!Joel Miller x f!reader

DRABBLE ✨

Warnings: mentions of sex, kind of explicit really, idk I am horny tbh

A/N: idk besties, not my best but not my worst either 🤷‍♀️

619 words

That apartment in the QZ was disgusting, just like the rest of the world was; everything was dark, filthy and hopeless, but none of that seemed to matter when you were being pounded by Joel in that thin, old, uncomfortable mattress. Nothing mattered, as long as he had his arms holding you by your sides, moving them up from your hips until they got to your neck, he never squeezed it, but he held you in place, while his free calloused rough hand traveled from your back to your hair, tangling itself between your strands, a caress almost sweet amongst the explicit and obscene private show you two had going on there. The way he thrusted hard against your hips, his cock reaching even further into your slippery muscles, how you welcomed his size, squeezing him in a way that would earn you some of his grunts and quiet moans.

You were able to ignore all the ugliness around the two of you, it didn't matter if you caught the flash of FEDRA’s light reflector through the window, or if you heard someone screaming in horror or begging for help, at that moment, there were only two people in the world: you and Joel.

And during those moments, the world wasn't such a bad place, it was quite good because of you had him, that beastly of a man, that untamed and bitter guy who wouldn't open up to you, who would always keep himself a mystery, threatening and kicking and punching his way through life, or whatever was left of it. You would probably never admit it out loud how much you like Joel, and how many times you'd close your eyes and pretend you two were meant to be. How many times you'd wish relationships were still something that could work, that being attached to someone wasn't the stupidest idea one could possibly have. But at that moment he was yours, his body belonged to yours and whenever you felt his hot load inside, you felt complete. Smiling at him, all you could do was reach for a kiss, and Joel knew damn well how dangerous that was. Your affair had lasted far too long, he always went after you, meaning to break things up, with the intention to remind you that the world was meant for survival and only that, he always wanted to make you see you were way too young for him, too pretty, too good. There was still something good inside of you, there was still hope. Not for Joel, he was a bad man, he didn't understand why you were so fixated on him, and yet, whenever he saw you, your lips, your body, he couldn't resist you. He ended up night after night with you all over his bed, your scent being the only good thing around that horrible place he lived in but refused to call home.

“Mm Joel… that was amazing” your voice was a sweet purr as he felt your curling up into his chest, the way your lips gently placed themselves over his heart made him feel shivers down his spine. It was wrong, he didn't want that, he didn't agree with it, he knew the right thing would be over it as soon as possible, but he just couldn't resist you. You belonged to him, you were the only pretty thing he had in his life, maybe, and just maybe you were worthy all of it.

“Sleep baby girl, just sleep” he kissed your forehead and wrapped his arm around your body, pulling you closer and enjoying the calmness he found in you. You were the only thing that actually resembled happiness in that shitty apartment.

____

[enden-k]

btw sry to the ppl who came for fanart and get blasted w all the oc stuff LMAOOO

its nothing new but i fell out of a few fandoms, gnshn mainly. due to all the ongoing drama w hoyogames caused by the fandom over the stupidest things (im not involved or get involved in any of that but it always happened i saw stuff here and there on my tl and its just wow), then all the stupid shit hyv pulled in the past months and get away with constantly, then how extremely time consuming and demanding and repetitive everything became etcetcetc i kinda have issues with playing their games. theres jsut no energy or interest left bc all this above is kinda outweighing anything that made me enjoy it before?

(i still adore a bunch of characters and might draw some again but i really am not sure if i will get into the game itself again. im just tired and nothing keeps me there anymore tbh)

zzz is enjoyable as its v chill on time and the team behind it is a new one so the game is sm more different it rlly doesnt feel like a hoyo game anymore. hsr is also ok tho i dont always keep track w it lately, sometimes i just get a bit bored of it when theres nothing interesting baiting me into finishing story stuff lol

whaaat i mean to say is thats kinda why im not rlly doing much fanart lately??? since there was no major thing that had my constant attention and kept me drawing 1000 things at a time lately. i jump from interest to interest rn when it comes to fandom stuff and draw whenever inspo strikes i guess

rn im going back to old fandoms again and rewatching/rereading/replaying all my most favorite things for some happiness. im currently hyperfixating real bad on my fav animanga once again so i might post some doodles of that or other shows i rlly enjoyed and rewatched, maybe even fate or FF stuff again

i rlly have to say since i stopped actively playing gnshn/spending so much time with keeping up with hoyogames and do all my stuff there every single day, i feel mentally SO MUCH better and suddenly have sm good time to use for other things (also ngl i feel like having to keep up daily w those type of games/playing sm gacha turned me really stupid and impatient over the years)

i even got back to draw OCs and create a new comic again after almost 6 YEARSSSSS of not working on my own stories. im feeling really happy rn, drawing stuff that is not gnshn/hyv related be it my OCs or other things i rlly enjoy like alnst etc (its prolly also another reason why im going back to old, favorite things rn bc i wanna create for everything that is dear to me and i didnt do before bc i didnt have my artblog back then yet)

anw sorry for rambling sm LMAO i guess you can consider this some kind of an update/explanation!! OC art and mixture of hyperfixations, favorite things and whatever im into atm, NOT a gnshn only artist