#really though like i said observation is the best way to learn. and you really don't need to be too anxious about fucking up

[hiding-under-the-willow]

Uh, hello.

I'm very new to tumblr, and i'm not exactly sure how it works.

i was wondering if you could give me some basic tumblr rules and etiquette?

like how reblogs and stuff work.

I'm just really worried i'm doing something wrong, and i don't want people to get mad at me for it.

I feel like the number one way I can suggest figuring out the social etiquette of tumblr is just to follow blogs you like and observe how they use the site and just like work from there, that's how I figured out the site when I joined at least. Back when I joined there weren't actually a lot of people joining so there wasn't a lot of guidance but the site's been seeing a lot of user migration the last year or two so there are plenty of posts circling around with like tips on how to use the site and the general culture and such if that's the kind of stuff you're looking for though.

Generally, reblogs are appreciated, especially by artists since it's the best way for their work to reach new people. People will try to claim likes do nothing and so you should always reblog, this is generally a lie. Reblogs do more for artists but its not like it's the end of the world if you don't reblog every post you like that's just some weird moral panic bullshit people get on every once in awhile. Usually if someone doesn't want a post reblogged they'll say it explicitly in the post or tags so that's not something you need to be paranoid about. People talk in the tags on reblogs and original posts. If you're reblogging a text post or art op is probably always gonna be chill with you talking about the post in the tag, in fact that's the more common way here to leave praise for art rather than leaving actual comments.

I keep my reblogs and most of my personal posts on a separate blog but that's like a personal organizational thing I like having my art all easily accessible in the same place. If you're a content creator of some kind it's totally chill to have all of your personal work and all of your reblogs on the same blog. Really how much you organize or split up stuff is up to you. Some people have different blogs for every fandom they're in, some people put everything in one place. Some people tag everything thoroughly some people don't tag anything. It's really just up to you what kind of organization you want to have and what stuff you want to keep track of on your blog.

Block people you don't want to interact with. Block tags you don't want to see. Unfollow people whenever where ever for whatever reason and don't feel bad about it. Curate your experience on this site as much as possible. It's one of the best social media sites in terms of personalizing your experience by far and that's something you should absolutely take advantage of. Don't force yourself to engage in discourse you don't care about, don't harass people for anything, don't get pressured into reblogging serious political posts if you don't want to, turn your gaze away from anything you don't want to see. It's the funny fandom site, don't make yourself miserable, curate your space so that it sparks joy.

This is more site function than etiquette but. Tumblr live is a really recent addition to the site, it's stupid, might be a data harvesting scheme, and everyone hates it. No one uses it. There's a place in settings you can turn it off for a week at a time. Everyone does that every week it's a collective in joke basically.

Anyways mostly my point is have fun, curate and organize your space as you see fit, and watch other people to pick up on site etiquette. If anyone else wants to leave tips on this post it's totally welcome. Good luck out there dude o7

[sanguineterrain]

in the buff | jason todd

Summary: The one where you learn firsthand that Jason Todd sleeps in the nude.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings/tags: best friend jason, awkwardness, nudity, reader hardcore thirsting over jaytodd, love confessions, humor (attempts at it, anyway), silliness. inspired by this post!

the divider

There's been a huge (blessed) development in the drug ring case that you and Jason are working on. You can hardly sleep now.

Normally, you'd call or text Jason, even though he's usually already in the know. It's possible that you just like having an excuse to call him, but who can confirm such a thing?

But it's late, probably too late to call, considering Jason doesn't answer his phone unless it's pinged directly to his helmet after a certain time, courtesy of his family being "a buncha jackasses" (his words, obviously).

But maybe it's not too late for a visit. After all, Jason patrols late, and has insane insomnia. He very well could be awake at this late hour. And he's never minded you dropping by before.

In truth, you haven't seen Jason in a few days and you feel restless now when you go longer than a day without seeing each other. You're not quite sure why that is.

So here you are, disabling the window alarm on Jason's apartment. Partly for a case, partly for your own benefit.

It takes a few minutes but you manage to open the window without anyone calling the police or whacking you with a broom. You slide open the window mostly soundlessly. Then you wait. The room remains dark and quiet.

You're pretty proud of yourself actually. It's not that you're green when it comes to spycraft, but you're certainly no Batman.

Still, you've managed to sneak into Jason's apartment without waking him. The Red Hood. You peek in to check if he's really asleep.

And he is, dark hair stark against the white pillow. It sticks out in messy tufts. You can't see past Jason's neck and his freckled arms, illuminated by the orange streetlight outside. You put your laptop bag on the floor.

He's sleeping on his stomach, facing away from you, but you're very endeared by how he's curled up under his sheet, hands tucked under his pillow. If you went really close to his face, you could count his eyelashes. Jason has such pretty eyelashes.

That's a perfectly normal thought to have about your best friend, right? Boys have pretty eyelashes. You're just making an observation.

You're bewildered by how cold the room is, surprised that Jason can withstand such a temperature. Maybe it's a Pit thing.

You watch him for a moment longer. Guilt pools in your gut. Are you really going to wake him when he's probably just gone to bed in the last hour? It takes Jason so long to fall asleep, you know that.

...

No, you should let him sleep. You can work on the case in the morning.

You bend down to get your laptop bag. In that time, the light flicks on.

You flinch, turn around, and find yourself staring down the barrel of a gun.

Said gun is held by an extremely naked Jason Todd.

"Oh my God!" you say at the same time Jason realizes his mistake.

"What the fuck!" he shouts, grabbing a pillow to cover himself.

But not before you get an eyeful of your best friend's, er, weaponry.

"Why are you naked?" you shout, gaze darting everywhere. Good Lord, it's seared into your retinas. You're never getting the image of Jason's dick out of your brain.

"Why are you in my apartment?" Jason snaps back.

"No, my question is way more urgent," you say.

"No the hell it's not! You broke in! I'm allowed to be naked in my apartment!"

"Okay. Alright. I came because there's been a development in our case. I thought we could work on it together but when I realized you were asleep for real, I decided to leave."

Jason rolls his eyes. "You know I'm a light sleeper. I just went to bed. I was up late.”

Realization strikes you. Could it be...?

"Oh my God. Do you have someone here?" you ask, voice sinking to a whisper.

"I have you here," Jason says irritably.

"No, like—" You make a hole with one hand and stick a finger into it. "Y'know..."

"Jesus, no!" Jason's face twists in disgust. "C'mon!"

"Okay, chill out, Jay-Jay. It'd be fine if you did. I can keep a secret," you say, shrugging. People have sex. You know that. You've never thought about Jason having sex, but you suppose it's possible. Why not? Just because you've never had sex and you always hoped that Jason would be your first doesn't mean that he would. If he's moved on in his life, then you should too.

Jason scoffs. "Yeah, okay. You think anybody would get into bed with a headcase like me?"

Hope rekindles. You're not behind. Jason's right there with you, virginity firmly intact.

He puts the safety back on the gun, squishing the pillow against himself with his elbow. You watch in fascination at his multitasking. Jason starts to turn around to put the gun behind the headboard before clearly thinking twice about mooning you.

"So... why are you naked?" you ask, respectfully keeping your eyes north of the equator.

"If you must know, I sleep in the nude. Now turn around."

You don't turn around. "In the nude?"

Jason's eye twitches. "Yes, nude. It's better for your body and it's more comfortable and I don't—"

You pull a face. "Who says in the nude? How old are you, a hundred?"

"That's what you're harping on?" Jason asks. "You broke into my apartment!"

You hold up a finger. "I didn't break in, I disarmed the alarm like you taught me."

"Yeah, which was only for emergencies. This isn't an emergency. Now turn around!"

So you turn around. You hear the pillow fall and the image returns. You recite the alphabet backwards. When that doesn't work, you think about the time you helped Jason on a mission in the sewers and couldn't get the smell out of your suit for a week.

Yeah, that'll do it. You shudder.

"Can't believe you just broke in," he mumbles. "Raised in a fuckin' barn, swear to God."

"Okay, I'm sorry. I'm truly, honestly sorry, Jaybee. From the bottom of my heart. Can I look now?"

"If you dare."

"Are you decent?" you ask.

"Too easy of a joke," he says. "Yeah, the jewels are covered."

You turn slowly. Jason's got red (ha) boxers on, so you turn all the way.

Huh. Well.

You've never really thought much about what Jason's got going on underneath his armor. Certainly, you've assumed that he's got a good physique and a lot of stamina, considering what he does. You've always assumed that. But Jason's Jason. Your best friend, Jason. Your best friend, Jason, who came back really tall, yeah, and with a deep voice and a super pretty face...

Well, anyway. He's Jason. That's all.

But now? Now you get to look in depth, and... whoa.

Jason's broad, stocky, heavily muscled with a soft layer of fat on top. His arms are huge, hands proportionally big. His pecs are full with pink nipples the same shade as his lips. That's a fact you're never forgetting. Your belly flutters.

Okay, what the fuck! No. This is peak creepy behavior, leering at your best friend like this, even if he does have shoulders you could sink your teeth into and thighs you'd happily get crushed between. No! Bad.

...You look some more. He's covered in scars. This is the first time you've seen his autopsy scar in person. It's white, noticeable but healed, like most of his scars. There's a dusting of dark hair from his chest to his belly button. It thickens as it dips beneath his—

Mm, nope. Not thinking about that again.

"Hello-o."

Your eyes dart back to his face.

"Are you listening to me?" he asks, forehead crinkled.

"What? Yes. Sorry. Yes." Your cheeks burn.

Something crosses Jason's face, too quick for you to read. But then his expression stones over. He glances at the dresser across from the bed.

"If you gimme a sec, I'll put a shirt on so y'won't have to look at all this," he says, gesturing roughly to his body.

You blink, lost in Jasonland. "Huh?"

"I know the scars are pretty gnarly. Lemme find a shirt."

Jason goes to the dresser and digs through the top drawer. His wide back is strung tight with tension, you can tell. You hurry to him, blocking the drawer with your arm. Jason looks at you, brows rising.

"Can I help you?" he asks.

"Um."

Words. You remember words, don't you?

"You..."

You haven't been physically close to Jason in a long time. He smells like soap and detergent and is all-encompassing. Your brain feels like slush. Don't stare at his pecs.

"I didn't—I'm not grossed out by your scars, Jason," you finally manage to say.

Jason raises an eyebrow. "Sure. You're just grossed out by everything else about me." He sighs wearily, like he's practiced this speech every night in the mirror. "Look, it's fine. I know I'm really—"

"No, it's not fine! I can't bear having you think I'm repulsed by your body, Jason. That's just not true," you say.

"Well, you were starin' pretty hard, so—"

"But it wasn't—I wasn't staring in disgust, I was—I..."

Jason crosses his arms. His pecs are pushed up as he does so. His stomach looks so soft. But you know he's strong. Way stronger than you. Strong enough to wield his strength against you, if you wanted him to. Strong enough to be gentle with you, too.

You wonder if he's still ticklish.

"You're doin' it again!" Jason says, and this time he really does look hurt. Fuck. Fuck! You're a shitty best friend.

"No!" You lock eyes with him. "No, no! I mean, yes, I was looking at you. But I wasn't looking in a bad, judgy way. I was, uh, taking in your physique. Because you have a... a very nice body. I've never seen you without clothes so I was looking at you. Sorry."

Yeah, you'll just go die in a hole after this.

Jason squints at you for a long moment. You start to shift in place. Sweat beads on your forehead. You lick your lips, hoping Jason can hear your honesty.

"Are you messin' with me?"

"Huh?" You shake your head. "No, why would I—"

"You're really telling me that you find this," Jason gestures to his body, "Good looking?"

This is worse than any physical torture. You'd prefer Batman beating you up on a roof to being here.

You rub your temple, cheeks aflame. "Oh my God. Yes, Jason, you're a good looking guy. Can we move on?"

"No, 'cause I think you're lyin', and I don't like it. You're always honest with me."

"I am being honest," you say, suddenly more annoyed than anything. Because what the fuck? "Are you kidding me? There's a whole forum dedicated to the Red Hood and how much people want you to step on them. And that's without seeing your face! I have eyes, Jason, of course I find you attractive."

And that should be the end of it. Jason's already slack-jawed like a dead fish. But no, you keep going.

"You make me nervous and I thought I had a lid on it because we knew each other as kids but it's becoming clear that I very much don't, and that probably has to do with the fact that you're the only guy I've been close to, and I never got over you. And now I'm gonna go drown myself in the Hudson. Good night."

You go to slip out the window. Maybe it'll shut on your head and knock you out. That would be a divine gift.

It doesn't, though. The universe isn't so kind. Instead, Jason catches your arm and keeps you rooted to your spot. His hand is cold. You wonder if the rest of him is warm.

"Wait, wait. Just hang on."

You groan. "Dude, I'm fucking mortified over the last five minutes. Please let me keep some of my dignity," you say without looking at him.

"Now when have I ever done that?" You can hear the smile in his voice.

And suddenly, the miserable reality of never being more than friends with Jason Todd comes crashing down. It's too late. You've always been too late.

You sag in his grip.

"We can just forget this ever happened," you say quietly. "Chalk it up to idiocy."

"Mm, yeah, we could. 'Cept I don't think you're an idiot. And I want you to hear what I have t'say first. Will ya look at me?"

Mopily, you look at him. His hand drops.

"I—"

"You've never slept naked," you say before he can get a word out. "That's new. Otherwise, I would've known, and then I would've used the door."

Jason rolls his eyes. "Can I speak?"

You cross your arms. "Yeah, okay."

"First of all, I don't think it's necessary for me to disclose that I sleep in the nude." You open your mouth to argue. "But I know it was a mistake. I'm not mad about that. Okay?"

You nod. "Okay."

"I won't lie and say I'm not surprised at your... reaction. I don't really... I've never... I'm not Dick or Bruce, y'know? I wasn't told my whole life what a handsome boy I am. And dying and returning didn't really help with that stuff either."

"I think you're handsome, Jason," you say quietly. "Honest."

He coughs and looks away, a tiny blush on his cheeks. "Yeah, uh, think you've made that pretty clear. For the record, I think you're really beautiful. Always thought so."

Your eyes widen. "Really?"

"Well, yeah. I mean... yeah."

"You're just saying that 'cause I saw your vein cane," you say, grinning.

"Don't call it that."

"How about—"

"No."

You're both quiet.

"How 'bout pork swor—"

"No!"

You smile, eyes squinty. Jason glares.

"Don't nickname my thing," he says.

You nod solemnly. "You're right. It's your thing. You should choose its name."

He shakes his head. "Sucha weirdo."

"Hey, I've never been with a guy. I don't know the rules of thing-naming."

Jason tilts his head. "Never?"

"Never."

"Why?"

You shrug. "Never found anyone I liked enough, I guess. I've pretty much had my heart set on you, Jason."

His face softens. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, uh, me too," he says. "You're it for me, honey. I just never... I mean, really, I never thought it would actually happen with you. Not then, not now."

"Huh. You really should've flashed me earlier. We could've sped things up exponentially."

"Yeah, why didn't I think of that," Jason says dryly.

"Dunno! We all know you're more than a pretty face."

His face reddens. You grin.

"Are you shy?" you ask, dancing on your toes.

"No. Shut up."

"You're shy! I make Jason Todd shy! Oh, this is wonderful. I should break into your apartment regularly."

"It's just new for me!" he says. "Lea' me alone."

You cozy up to him, confidence renewed by the mutual confession. You wrap your arms around his neck. Jason looks at you, hands slowly coming to rest on your waist. The rest of him is warm.

"Just teasing you, Jaybee," you say.

"Hmm." He slowly nudges your cheek with his nose. "Like y'always do?"

"Like I always do," you say sweetly. "But for the record, if we ever share a bed in the future, you're gonna have to keep the soldier in his tent."

Jason lets go of you, exasperated. "Oh, for—y'know what? Your visitation privileges are revoked. Get outta my apartment."

You put on the saddest face you can muster. "You're kicking me out? Into the cold?"

"It's eighty degrees."

You sigh loudly. "Okay, fine. Date tomorrow?"

"Seriously?" Jason asks, sounding genuinely surprised.

"Seriously! Why wouldn't I be serious?"

"You really wanna date me?"

"Never been more sure of anything in my life."

Jason's relief is palpable and bittersweet. You'll spend the rest of your days letting him know just how spectacular he and his pectorals are.

"Okay," he says, shy again. You don't tease him this time.

"Great!" You close the distance between you and peck him on the cheek. His blinks in surprise.

"I'll give you a proper kiss on our date," you say, winking. "Bye, Jasey-Daisy."

"Bye, honey. Don't break into anyone else's apartment on your way home."

"Never," you say, climbing out the window. "You're the only one for me, Toddy!"

[pipwritesoccasionally]

two little lines

toji x reader

in which you find out that you're pregnant and fear toji's reaction.

because of pregnancy this is technically an AFAB!reader, but I did my best to keep it gender neutral. though I did use the pet name "doll" (sorry it feels so toji), and I don't exactly know if it's gender neutral.

despite this technically being AFAB, if you're AMAB and want to read I am not here to yuck your yum.

wc: 1551

look at me mixing it up with a toji fic after three straight nanami fics!

pt. 2 pt. 3

______________________________________________________________

two little lines. all it took to seemingly destroy your entire life was two little lines on a pregnancy test. 

sure, it had been two months since your last period, and sure, you were in a long-term relationship, so pregnancy was something that was technically plausible. however, you just couldn’t fathom how you had been so careless. i mean, having two kids was enough, but a third? 

no, your husband was definitely going to leave you, and the thought of it made your heart clench. 

‘fuck,’ you thought, vision blurring. ‘everything is just going to end because of two stupid fucking pink lines?’ 

you’re lucky toji was off on some other random bounty hunt, giving you time to hide the test before going to pick megumi and tsumiki up from school. the floorboards creak as you run to the kitchen, throwing the test in the box with your favorite snacks, knowing toji would never look inside it.  

silence fills the house, creating a sharp juxtaposition with the pounding of your heart echoing in your ears. there has to be some way to calm down before going to get your stepkids. you tried everything you could think of, from splashing cold water on your face to walking around to holding an ice cube in your hand, until eventually you got to a point where you felt like you could pretend. 

keys, wallet and stress in hand, you got in the car and headed to their elementary school. the kids were there, standing on the curb, and you waved as you approached. there seemed to be an argument before tsumiki opened the passenger-side door, megumi grumbling as he slid into the backseat. 

“how was school?” you asked, and the kids scrambled to talk about what they learned, from the different types of clouds to their times-tables. 

“it was super fun and the teacher said that we have a new project coming up about the types of clouds! we get to make diaramas of them and it sounds really fun!” tsumiki exclaims, the smile evident in her voice. 

“that does sound fun! you’ll have to tell your dad all about it when he gets home,” you feel your brows furrow at the mention of toji, but you quickly resume your role of the happy guardian so as not to cause any problems. 

the house comes into view minutes later, and megumi runs inside. you turn to get out before tsumiki sighs softly. 

“wait,” she says, and you turn to her. “is something wrong?” 

‘curse her for being so observant,’ you think, but you shake your head quickly. 

“nothing for you to worry about, just worried about your father, as always,” which technically is not a lie, just not fully the truth. 

“oh, well you know that he’ll be okay! he’ll be back and then he’ll stomp around the house talking about those ‘damn sorcerers’-” tsumiki deepens her voice to imitate her father, but you stop her. 

“hey! watch your language!” she opens the door and runs inside, laughing the whole way, and you smile softly. you really do love those kids, even if they aren’t yours by blood. 

the house is cold when you enter, and you make your way towards the thermostat. however, before you can even turn the temperature up, a sour taste climbs up your throat. you feel sweat drench your brow, and you can’t shake the feeling that you’re going to throw up. 

you run up the stairs, throwing yourself in front of the toilet to empty your stomach. footsteps pad up the stairs, and you feel a little hand rubbing against your back. 

“(y/n)? are you sure you’re okay?” tsumiki’s soft voice brought tears to your eyes, more running down your cheeks as you retched. it took a minute or two to get everything out of your system before you sit back on your heels. 

“sorry, i guess i’m a little sick. we should have some microwavable meals in the fridge, do you think you could make some food for you and megumi?” she nods, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more. 

‘he’s going to find out soon,’ you worry, brushing your teeth to rid the awful taste from your mouth. ‘i guess i should get some rest so i don’t have to face him when he comes home.’ 

you sink into your shared bed, blankets reaching out to hug your body, and you drift off to sleep. 

the bed sinks, pulling you out of your slumber. you begin to turn to face your husband before you’re reminded of the events from earlier. your pulse is rapid, and you think about pretending that you’re still asleep before toji speaks. 

“hey doll. ‘miki said that you weren’t feeling well earlier. you’re not hurt, are you? i can handle whoever it is for you.” you smile at the softness he only displays for you, but how can you explain that the person causing you stress is none other than him?

“i’m okay. it’s probably food poisoning or something. you did cook dinner last night,” he frowns, groaning lowly. 

“i’m not that bad. the brats said it was fine enough,” you laugh at him, burrowing into the blankets. your husband slides his shirt over his head, revealing his broad shoulders riddled with muscles and scars. mindlessly, you reach out to caress him softly, and he slides into bed beside you. while normally you’d ask to lay on his chest, you’re worried being that close would make him aware of your irregular pulse. 

“goodnight babe,” you say, curling back into yourself and closing your eyes, knowing that if you look at him now his confusion would cause the truth to tumble out. 

“night doll,” he hesitates, weight settling in on the other side of the bed. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

you wake up to a quiet house, something that sets you off immediately. two elementary school aged kids does not bode well for a quiet house, and so you sit up, reaching to your right to find toji’s side of the bed cold to the touch. 

‘okay, something’s up.’ 

you walk down the stairs to the kitchen, calling out for the kids, only to see that their shoes aren’t by the door. toji’s in the kitchen, looking through the fridge. 

“hey babe, where are the kids?” you normally get them off to school, but it seems that maybe you’d slept in late. 

“they’re at school,” he says shortly, taking you aback. 

“okay. sorry i slept in, i must have been really tire-” you stop when you step into the kitchen, seeing your positive pregnancy test on the counter. the whole world freezes, and you can feel everything crashing down. 

“oh that? yeah, it was weird. i tried to bring your favorite snack to you in bed when the box was making a weird sound. found that at the bottom.” he gestures haphazardly, cracking the dam holding the next wave of your anxiety back. 

“it’s a friend’s-”

“don’t bullshit me. were you even going to tell me?” his voice is low, eyes piercing. 

“toji-” 

“were. you. going. to. tell me.” he enunciates. 

“i didn’t know how! i mean seriously, you have two kids to worry about, the last thing you need is a fucking baby! i get it, it’s over. i’ll go get my shit,” tears are running down your cheeks as you tear out your heart with your bare hands. you turn to leave, making your way upstairs, when a hand grabs your wrist softly. 

“wait–doll. fuck.” he turns you to face him. “you don’t have to leave.” 

“of course i fucking do. should probably go now before the kids get back. i don’t want them involved.” you take another step, but his grip remains firm. 

“i said you don’t have to leave. the brat’s mine too.” 

“wait. you want to keep it?” he looks to the side, rubbing his other hand against his neck. 

“of course i fucking do,” he mirrors, and your eyes widen. 

“you mean…you’re not mad?” 

“i’m mad you didn’t tell me, not about the brat.” your eyes water, and before you know it you’re sobbing into his chest. 

“what is this all about? you really have such a low opinion of me to think i’d kick you out?” his voice rumbles through his chest against your ear. 

“you’re just so busy, and i thought…i thought that you would be mad,” you sob even harder, not knowing where the emotions end and hormones begin. 

“so what? i’d just kick you to the curb?” 

“i mean, you have two kids already…maybe a third would be too much.” he starts to chuckle, causing you to pull away from him. 

“what’s so funny?” 

“that you seriously thought i’d kick you out. i don’t break promises, doll, and marriage is just a big promise. besides, you’d probably get custody of the brats. they like you more than me.” 

you run your hands over your face before reaching out to play with his hair. 

“you’re really not mad?” you repeat, and he rolls his eyes.

“no dumbass. besides, i can’t let any other men see how hot you are carrying my kid.” you snort, circling your arms around his neck to pull him closer. 

“love you, toji.” 

“love you too, doll.” he says, your lips meeting.

[girliism]

having art and patrick as your boy best friends.

you met them in kindergarten. the three of you sat at the same table with another boy. said other boy was writing bad words on your drawing when art and patrick sprayed glue all over him.

they had to sit out of recess watching the other kids play. you brought them both flowers as a thank you and ever since then the three of you were inseparable.

so inseparable that when third grade came around and patrick saw that the three of you weren’t in the same class he brought his parents up to the school and demanded that you all be in the same class every year. middle and high school were no different.

you loved them but hated the gross tendencies they came with. “you have to sit in between us so we don’t fight over who sits next to you.” art says. but you hate sitting in between them cause it ended up with you getting caught in their burping matches. “you guys are so gross.”

but art and patrick really did care for you. so much so that at 11 when you got your first period and ignored them for a week they made it their duty to learn all about menstruation.

you were at lunch eating with your girl friends when art places a drink in front of you. ���it’s a green smoothie full of iron rich vegetables so you can replenish after losesing so much blood. my mom made it.” the blonde smiles at you very proud of himself but your faces heats up in embarrassment. “also you can get pregnant now so like don’t do that.” patrick adds quite loudly and everyone is looking at you and your other friends are snickering at the interaction. you wanted to die.

watching art and patrick go though growth spurts was actually terrifying. and not to mention they ate everything. “can we get five home style burger plates two for us and one for her. with oreo milkshakes. oh and apple pie” patrick orders. you watch as the both of them clear their plates with ease now deciding if you all should go for ice cream.

it was the summer before freshman year and you had spent most of it with your grandparents but you made in back in time for the zweig end of summer party. “guys! did you miss me” you pull them in for a hug before you walk ahead of them into the zweig house. the two of the watch you with confusion. when did you become a girl?

art and patrick never really saw you as “girlish” the way they saw other girls as girlish cause they’ve known you for so long. but something changed when you were at your grandparents house. you changed.

“dude you see that right.” patrick says. him and art watch you in the pool talking to your other friends. “she has boobs.” art groans at his friends perverted observation. “can you like not stare at her chest. that’s weird.” “what, all i’m saying is that she has boobs now guys like boobs. boobs and guys are no good match. horny assholes will try to get with her all year.” “can you stop saying boobs” art whispers “they’ll break her heart and get her pregnant. we have to protect her.” patrick says sternly.

the first two years of high school boys avoided you like the plague.

“do you guys think i’m ugly?” you blurt out one night the three of you laying on your bed watching juno. both of them sputter out a slue of what’s and why would you think that. “it’s just no one’s asked me to the formal. i’m literally the only person i know who doesn’t have a date.”

patrick looks at you before shrugging. “you can come with us duh. me and art will be your date we can make it a group thing.” art nods in agreement. this makes you feel worse. “i don’t want to be your guys pity date. plus your girlfriends hate me.” art sits up turning to you. “it’s not a pity date. formals are supposed to be about having fun with you friends. and our girlfriends don’t hate you.” oh but they totally did.

you end up going to formal with art, patrick and their girlfriends and have a surprisingly good time. the night is ending and patrick’s ditch the two of you so you and art sit on the empty football field just the two of you.

“so where’s your girlfriend?” you ask. “making out with the quarterback under the bleachers.” art sighs out looking up at the sky. you wince. “sorry” art mumbles out a whatever picking at the trimmed grass.

“her loss right.” you bump your shoulder with his. art scoffs “yeah, now at least she’ll have someone to grope her.” “wait wait is big shot tennis man too scared to grope his girlfriend.” art shoves you. “shut up ok, guys get nervous too.” humming you say. “if a guy so much as wanted to kiss me i’d just do it.” eyes looking up.

arts head snaps towards you. “have you never been kissed before?” you shake your head no. “but we’re almost juniors, how have you never been kissed?” “maybe because you and pat intimidate any guy that’s has interest in me. which is really fucking annoying by the way.” you huff. “sorry about that, pat just doesn’t want you to end up on teen mom.”

the two of you sit in silence for a while. “i could kiss you.” art says. you look over to him heart beat picking up. art is a good looking guy obviously, but he was your best friend. “wouldn’t that be weird?” you bite your lip out of nervousness. “doesn’t have to be.”

you get your first kiss that night. on the football field under the night sky. it was nice, art’s lips felt nice. moving slowly against yours his hand tenderly holding your cheek. you both break away from the kiss to breathe. “thanks” you whisper.

you guys never talk about what happened that night. not to patrick and not to each other. the same way you don’t talk about the kiss you and patrick share in his treehouse at his family’s goodbye summer party before junior year.

part two

[weneepie]

physical affection w/ red hood rules | m.list

note. hello there! this one is to heal my own heart tbh because I read too much angst with my boy and I need him to be happy :( pleased don't hesitate to request <3

Jason Todd had never been known for being the most gentle and sweet person on Earth. Actually, most of the people who knew him would say that he was a freaky killing machine. When, in fact, he simply had some problems expressing himself correctly. He would die to be close to someone freely, but he was too scared for that. Scared of everything if he let anyone enter his life. Until you arrived. 

You were some fresh air in his life, a soft wind helping him to finally breathe again. He was still scared, obviously, but you were making things easier. He felt like he could let his guard down when he was with you, and he never thought he would learn how to do that in his life. 

You were watching TV in silence, Jason sitting right next to you in your apartment. He was obviously more looking at you than at what was playing on the screen, observing your figure like he was trying to learn it by heart. In a gentle move, he grabbed your hand in his. You looked at him, and you heard his voice going out softly while looking at your hand. 

“Your hands are so small. Look,” he said, putting your palm against his to compare the size of your hands. It made you smile ever so softly, and when you were about to say something, you saw his fingers getting interlocked with yours. With that, he simply held your hand before resting his head against your shoulder. You restrained that sweet laugh that almost escaped you before looking back at the TV, your grip on his hand slightly tightening. 

One of the things Jason used to do a lot was pretexting that he wanted you to be safe so he could get some physical affection from you. You were about to cross the road after looking at each side of it when you felt a hand grabbing yours. You glanced at your boyfriend who slowly shrugged your shoulders and said “Just to be safe”. And for sure you would be safe with Red Hood himself around you. 

Grabbing your hand wasn’t the only thing he would do though. Jason loved your hair, even if he didn’t exactly know why. It was just so soft and playing with it was probably the best thing he ever did to calm himself. You were peacefully doing your skincare that night, hair down while applying your face mask, when Jason arrived from behind you. His fingers slowly passed through the end of your hair and you looked at him through the mirror. 

“Want to help me? I need to brush them.” You told him and the boy looked up at you the second after. He slowly nodded and you grabbed your hair brush to give it to him. You both left the bathroom so you could sit on the bed, him being right behind you. His movements were so slow, so gentle. You were the only one who had the chance to see him like that, and you would never be glad enough for that. 

But he wasn’t the only one to seek this affection, of course. First, you would never say no to him if he wanted you to cuddle him in a way or another. But you were also never missing a chance to cling onto him when you were in public spaces. Not only because you wanted people to know that the man was with you, but also because you didn’t like to be surrounded by a crowd too dense. 

Jason was your safe place, and you slowly realized that you were also his. It was working well, especially because you could tell that he was doing more effort than he ever did. He really wanted to trust you, even if it was complicated for him at some point. Trusting issues were an obvious thing, but he was working on it. 

He loved you more than anything else, and he would do everything to make it work.

thank you for reading!

[blegh-110]

i. "i was enchanted to meet you" | Sam Monroe

Pairing: older brother's bestfriend!Sam x fem!reader

Summary: Older brother’s best friend! Sam Monroe who you really got to know when you were 15 and he was 17.

Warnings: None

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: This is chapter II of this series where I am using songs from Speak Now, enjoy!

Your sophomore year of high school was great.

One reason being that you had finally made a friend who was in three of your classes; geometry, honors english, and P.E.. 

The second reason being that Sam was in your very last class of the day, introduction to art. 

Neither of you were artists, or even good drawers. But that was what made your time together so fun. There wasn’t a day that went by where you two didn’t make fun of each other’s drawings. 

“Sam! It’s supposed to be an orange!” You laughed with tears in your eyes as you stared at your poorly done drawing of a peeled orange half. 

“(Y/N), it looks like a vagina.” He covered his mouth with his hand as he tried, very badly, to hide his laughter. 

And because of your constant noise-making, and talking, and interruptions, the teacher decided to move Sam across the room. But that had made it almost worse. You couldn’t even look at him from your seat because the situation was just too funny, you would have to look away before you’d burst out laughing. And as soon as class was dismissed and the two of you would leave the classroom, there was nothing holding back the bottled up amusement anymore and you both would walk out of school with tears in your eyes. 

It all happened so often that you didn’t want to stop your enjoyment and go home. And neither did Sam, you guessed. Instead of leaving you and driving back to his own house, he began driving you home and dropping you off. Which then turned to driving you home and hanging around the house after you bravely asked if he wanted to come inside for a little bit. And it got to the point where he automatically turned his car off when he parked on the street, having already set his mind on spending more time with you. But this didn’t happen every single day. 

There were times when you had to send him home. It wasn’t for anything serious, in fact, you wanted nothing more than to spend more time with him. But there were days where you had a big test coming up or tons of homework to finish or an essay due the next day, and you knew you would get none of it done if Sam was in the house. 

“Sam, get out!” You giggled as you lightly pushed him to the front door, your fingertips burning at the touch of his back.

“Alright, fine. But what am I supposed to do?” 

“I don’t know, go hang out with your other friend?” You clearly hinted at your older brother, ready to close the door and start your essay that was due the next day. It was your fault really. You had a whole week to finish it, but you kept pushing it aside because you wanted to be with Sam instead. So your whole school day was spent outlining and finding evidence with any spare time you had, and just generally stressing out. 

“He’s at football practice though.”

“Then just watch.”

“But it’s boring.”  

You gave him a pointed look. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He said while leaning in for a hug then leaving.

One thing you quickly learned about Sam was that he was actually quite attentive and affectionate. He always knew when an exam was coming up for you because of the way you became less talkative and more isolated as the date got closer. He didn’t want to bring that observation up to you though because what would that do? So he did the best he could to make those few days just a little bit better for you. Which included buying you study snacks on your way home, keeping quiet in your art class and instead listening to music together, and sometimes helping you study if you let him. You didn’t notice it at first, too caught up with the thought that you might fail the exam. But when you did eventually catch on you somehow fell even more in love with Sam. 

And the one thing about him that made it harder to breathe was his need for physical touch. Whenever he saw you at school he was quick to leave his friends and greet you with a hug and ask how you’re doing. In your shared art class he was always shoulder to shoulder with you. If he thought you were too far from him, he’d hook his fingers underneath your seat and pull your chair right to him. When the two of you would walk home, his arm would always wrap around your shoulder and pull you close to him. If he saw you walking to class he was happy to take your books and walk you there with a hand on your back. And when it was just the two of you at your house watching a movie, he’d lean his entire body on yours and take a nap. 

You wanted so badly to return those affections. You wanted to wrap your arms around him, you wanted to match his excitement when he saw you in the halls, but it felt impossible for you. And you knew that Sam wouldn't mind, but you just weren’t very good at showing affection the way he did. 

You also learned that he was a bit… possessive and protective of his stuff. He was asked a few times by other students if they could borrow his drawing supplies, or even the brushes provided by the classroom, and he always, meanly, said no. Or when you constantly witnessed him smack your brother's hand away from his bag of chips. 

“Sam, c’mon, I didn’t eat anything for breakfast and I didn’t bring my lunch!” Your brother exclaimed while trying again to steal Sam’s food.

“Get away from me.” He grumbled with smiley fries in his mouth,  

“You’re never this way with my sister.” 

Which was true. He was always sharing his stuff with you. Whether it was food or letting you keep his pencil because you couldn’t find your own, and it was always the pink Paper Mate ones. He was also always offering or making you take some of whatever snack he had. 

“Here, have it.” And he gave you the last oreos he had bought from the cafeteria. 

And there was a time when you were paired up for a project with the boy who took you to the dance in your eighth grade year, the one who you let copy your homework. When you first heard your name with his own you wanted the ground to swallow you, but then he surprisingly brought the whole situation up and apologized for it. And you couldn’t hold a grudge if you wanted to, it happened two years ago and he seemed good now. So you forgave and forgot and the two of you planned to get the assignment started during lunch in the library. Unfortunately, Sam wasn’t as forgiving as you were.

“Didn’t he make you cry? Why don’t you tell the teacher you just don’t want to be partners with him?” He asked while opening his car door for you. 

“Sam, it’s okay! He said he was sorry and it’s not like I’m hanging out with him.” He scoffed at the last part then closed it after you had gotten in. 

“You better not because I’m not over it.”

“Did he take you to the dance?”

“No, but I was the one who saw how upset you were. Hated seeing you like that. I just don’t want him to think that this could be a second chance or something.”

“I appreciate your concern, I really do. But it’s not going beyond a school project, I promise.”

“Okay, but if he tries something, you tell me first.” You rolled your eyes with a smile and nodded your head. You didn’t dare tell him but you felt more than just appreciative, you felt cherished and looked after when he got this way, which wasn’t the first time. And each talk left you wanting him even more. 

And the last bit of his personality that you learned was his introvertness, which again, surprised you. Especially since your brother was actually a pretty sociable person. Like you, Sam was not one to see a large crowd and want to partake in it. The only difference between the two of you was that when you were put in a situation where you were surrounded by a lot of people, your heart would quicken and your hands would get sweaty. You were nervous to talk to other people and felt like you had to. But with Sam, he simply didn’t care to talk to them, he didn’t want to and he made that very clear. 

“Fuck that.” He said when the both of you saw that the school Market was taking place in the courtyard. The market took place for a week, and it was where students sold their own goods. You made the mistake your freshman year of trying to walk through it and go home, but you were always stopped by another student trying to sell you something, whether it was a sticker or their homemade soap, and it was a nightmare. 

There was one time you accidentally got caught up with one of them and they just wouldn’t let you leave. They were selling some homemade body care products, soaps and bath bombs, and you gave every excuse you could to nicely shut them down.

“I don’t have enough money.”

“I really have to get home.”

“I’m not really a bath bomb person.”

“That’s okay! We’ve got lip scrubs! Here, smell these.” Then they proceeded to shove different products in your face while telling you their prices. And while giving a tight lipped smile, you felt a hand wrap around your own. You didn’t have to look to know it was Sam, thank god. 

“Hi, would you like t-”

“Nope.” And he walked away with your hand in his, telling his fellow classmates to “fuck off” as he continued to walk through the market. It felt so natural, like it was supposed to be this way. You’d never felt so comfortable with Sam like this. Before, you were always too overwhelmed by his presence and your own feelings that it became too much. But there you were, holding his hand until the two of you got to his car. 

And it all went away when he graduated. It was a terrible night for you to watch him be handed his diploma, an official sign that the friendship you had built with him was over. You were proud of him, there was no doubt about that. But as soon as the graduating class threw their hats in the air you had to bite your lip to keep your cries from coming out. There was a hollowness in your heart that swallowed any emotion you could feel. 

When the ceremony was over and you and your family went down to the field, he ran right to you and gave you a soul crushing embrace. One where it lifted you off the ground and you had to wrap your arms around him. His graduation gown burned against your cheek. It was a bitter-sweet moment. 

When you got home after a celebration dinner for your brother, you thought about your times with Sam and cried the entire night, wishing you had never met him in the first place so you could save yourself from your heartbreak.

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo (Prologue)

Summary: You’re a brand new zookeeper at The Halfling Zoo- a place where half-animals live in captivity. Your job is simple- feed them and study them. Your main worry is that one of the more dangerous halflings might kill you. 

Unfortunately, that may become the least of your worries.

WARNINGS: none for now

Note: This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui except I decided to take it a step further and include all the dorms. I know that a lot of these animals don’t fit them perfectly, but I did the best I could. I left out Ortho because he has no age and he looks really young so… no.

All characters are aged up, since there will be mature themes in future parts.

Also, I can’t promise I’ll finish this. I suck at finishing stories.

Chapter One here

—----------------------

“Pleased to meet you Mr. Crowley.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Ms. (Y/n)!”

You smiled up at your new boss, taking in his eccentric appearance- everything from his crow feather-lined cape, to his sparkling suit, to his top hat, and to the black bird mask that covered half his face. 

That name suits him.

“Now, you’re mainly a researcher, but you will also be assisting with some of the general chores, such as feeding the animals,” Mr. Crowley explained what you already knew.

“That’s alright,” you said, smiling brightly, “That will allow me to observe even more of their behaviors.”

You were fresh out of college and ready to face The Halfling Zoo. There was plenty of debate whether it was okay to treat half-humans as animals and keep them in a zoo, but it was convenient for you. You didn’t have to travel the world to attempt to study animals from afar through a camera lens.

“You will be supervising the lion and hyena exhibit, the wolf exhibit, the panther and tiger exhibit, the bird exhibits, the reptile house, and the aquarium,” Mr. Crowley explained.

“Wait, did you mean to say the lions and hyenas are together? And the panthers and tigers? Or did I misunderstand?” you asked, confused.

“They are bonded groups, so it would be wrong to separate them,” Crowley explained, “Halflings don’t always act like their animal counterparts.”

You nodded, cursing yourself internally. You had learned that on your first day at college! How could I be so stupid to forget about the bonds different Halfling species make?

“Follow me,” Mr. Crowley’s voice broke through your thoughts, “I’ll show you around.”

The two of you left the cramped office in the main staff building and headed out onto the guests’ paths. You could see a few families walking by- less than usual, since it was nearing closing time. It felt as though the sky was growing darker by the minute as the sun made its way down the horizon, beautiful orange and pink clouds lighting its path.

You almost immediately arrived at the lion and hyena exhibit. It was a huge enclosure, the terrain so detailed that you felt as though you had stepped straight into an African savannah. In fact, you could even feel the heat emanating from the ground itself.

“We keep it as hot as their home naturally is,” Mr. Crowley explained, reading your thoughts, “They’re happy here- it’s home with no need to hunt to survive.”

You nodded, but inside you wondered if that was really true or not. Were they really happier in a giant cage on display for humans than they were in Africa? You couldn’t imagine feeling that way.

Mr. Crowley pointed out a big rock where a pride of lions had gathered, “On top of that rock is the top dog- er, cat, I mean. The king of the jungle.”

Upon closer inspection, and a lot more eye strain, you could make out a figure lying on the top of the large rock. It was a Lion Halfling, with tan skin and thick, dark mane of brown hair that fell to his shoulders, except for the braids in front of his face, which were even longer. You could just make out the lion’s ears on top of his head and the lion’s tail draped over the rock’s side.

“And those are the hyenas,” Mr. Crowley supplied, pointing to the edge of the enclosure, “They’re used to aggressive females, so the males might be a little jumpy around you.”

You remembered reading about that in school, but it was amazing to see all the Halflings in person. You couldn’t help but feel excited to study them up close. Imagine if you made a big discovery that no one else had ever discovered about Halflings! After all, there were a lot of unknowns about them.

“Onto the wolf exhibit!” Mr. Crowley said in a sing-song voice.

The enclosure was right across the way from the lions and hyenas, but it had a completely different feel. The air was cooler when you walked up to the giant forest. Through the trees, it was difficult to actually see any wolf halflings. You thought you saw a flash of white, but it was too quick to tell.

“Yes, well, this exhibit is pretty quiet during the day,” the zoo director said awkwardly, “They’ll be out tonight, howling at the moon and whatnot.”

“Wolves don’t actually howl at the moon,” you helpfully supplied, “They howl to communicate with other wolves.”

Mr. Crowley stared at you for a moment and you wondered if you had annoyed him, until he grinned widely, “Such a knowledgeable new researcher!”

You smiled at the compliment, a little embarrassed as the two of you headed for the panther and tiger exhibit. You were surprised to see it alive with Halflings, all of them staring back at the two of you with narrowed eyes.

“There’s two black panthers,” Mr. Crowley pointed them out, “and two albino tigers. The four of them are as thick as thieves.”

You cautiously waved at them, but they merely turned away and disappeared into the jungle enclosure. You wondered if they were somehow curious to see you, or if they always did this to guests.

“Next, the bird exhibits!” Mr. Crowley led the way to the aviary. He pointed out Halflings left and right in the closely-packed enclosures, “A parrot, three albino peacocks, two flamingos, an owl, and a raven. You’ll get to know them well, since they’re mostly all very friendly. Except the peacocks are a little cocky.”

You giggled a little and waved to all the birds. It was a futile effort, because, save for the owl halfling, they were all fast asleep. The owl halfling stayed on his perch, wings tucked around his body, his bespectacled face scrutinizing you. Not in a rude way, just sort of deciding what you were.

You followed Mr. Crowley into a heated building with a glass wall on one side. You peered through the glass wall and immediately spotted the Boa Constrictor Halfling lying against the wall. Human until the torso, which then winded into a snake tail.

“Don’t be fooled!” Mr. Crowley said, “There is more than one snake in that exhibit. See if you can spot it.”

You looked at every angle, struggling to spot anything different. Then, a part of the sand moved and two gray eyes glared back at you.

“A Viper Halfling, right?” you said in awe, “Aren’t those venomous?”

“Ah, yes, well,” Mr. Crowley stuttered a little, “Don’t get bitten.”

You stared at him for a moment before it sunk in. All of these animals, except the birds, were extremely dangerous! And you were going to go into their enclosures to study and feed them? Were you insane?

You pushed down the panic and took a deep breath. This is what you signed up for. You probably already waived all your rights away anyway. You hadn’t looked at the fine print of your contracts, of course.

You noticed another tank on the other side of the room and walked up to it. You couldn’t see anything inside this one, but Mr. Crowley was quick to explain, “There’s a salamander in this one. A beautiful electric blue, but extremely shy.”

You peered inside, trying to catch a glance of blue, but you couldn’t see a thing.

“Lastly, the aquarium,” Mr. Crowley clapped his hands together, as though to bring you back to reality. 

The aquarium was a huge glass tank where visitors could go down the stairs and see inside. The two of you walked by it, and saw very little signs of life. 

“You’ll probably see the eel twins a bit. They’re a little shy at first, but Floyd is pretty playful. The octopus, on the other hand, rarely leaves his cave. He’ll venture out to eat, but that’s about it. We should have made that damn thing see-through, but it’s too late now.”

You were glad it was a normal cave, and not transparent like the glass. The Octopus Halfling probably felt safe inside it. It wouldn’t be fair to rob him of that simple pleasure.

“That’s the end of your tour, young lady,” Mr. Crowley said cheerfully, “You start bright and early tomorrow, have a long lunch break, then leave late at night. Are you sure you’re ready to do this?”

He looked down at you with a hint of nervousness, as though he expected you to say “no”. But you were determined and excited to explore what your classes had trained you for. Real life application.

“I’m ready!”

Note: So, some of the animals are obvious, but I’m wondering what you all think the others are?

[amorisxx]

Snickerdoodle pt. iii

(Halloween special)

pairing: Art Donaldson x reader summary: The fall fest rolls around. You and Art are part of the parent committee. An unexpected meeting leads to another moment in a parking lot. warnings: smut 18+, car sex, piv, cheating, description of panic attack word count: 3.6K a/n: This part gives a bit more context to each of their lives. It doesn't really progress the plot very much, but I enjoyed writing it. previous part | next part

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

It’s a Wednesday afternoon. The house is quiet, free of the frenetic energy that children bring. Kaleb is still at school, and you’d taken the day to finish preparing your baked goods for the fall fest on Friday. The only noise to be heard is the sound of Art panting into your ear.

“Oh…f-fuck… please, please.”

Halfway through decorating the sugar cookies, he’d started pressing kisses to the side of your neck. You had tried shooing him off, but it was to no avail.

That’s how you end up pressed against the kitchen counter with your dress bunched up at the hips. One strap is halfway down your arm as Art frantically ruts into you from behind.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans into your neck. 

He has one hand holding your hip in place while his other arm pins your back against his chest. In between thrusts, he uses one hand to greedily palm at your breasts.

When you start clenching around him, Art snakes a hand around to your front. He moves his fingers to where his cock is throbbing inside you. He groans at the wetness that has seeped out of you and collected at his base. You moan when he drags his fingers up to rub desperate circles over your slippery clit.

“Want you to cum, ah, need to feel it baby, please,” he pants.

It isn’t long before you’re throwing your head back and squeezing around him.

Ѽ

“Now, will you please let me finish these cookies?” You huff. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you come over.”

He snorts. “You said you could use the help.”

“Well that’s when I thought you’d actually be of some help.”

He grins at you with lidded eyes.

The truth is Art did come over to help you, but he also came because watching you bake has become one of his favorite things to do. Since the two of you have started seeing each other more often, he’s started spending time at your place during the weekends when Kaleb has to stay with his dad. Though you don’t admit it, he’s noticed that you tend to bake when you’re worried. Art thinks it must take your mind off of things. It’s as if you go on autopilot. You disappear into the task as everything fades to the background. It reminds Art of what tennis used to feel like.

The baking also reminds him of his grandmother. Before she moved to the nursing home, she would always bake cookies for Art when he was young. He’d know because the sweet aroma would fill his nostrils upon entering the front door.

Sometimes, he was able to watch her bake and take in the entire process. It was calming for him to observe all the various steps and pass her different ingredients. He wondered how she knew the exact amount to add, and she’d tell him it was because of “years and years of practice.” Art quickly grew fond of the idea of building something up from scratch. And he learned that through lots of practice, you could make something really sweet.

So, in a way, you remind Art of his grandmother. He doesn’t tell you that though because he doesn’t think that’s the best thing to say to someone he’s just been balls deep inside. He does tell you, however, that he likes seeing you like this.

You look up at him in between adding orange icing to a cookie. Some of the icing spills onto the counter as you tilt your head and furrow your eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

He gestures around the kitchen. “It’s nice, you know, being able to watch you make something.”

Though you’re looking down at the cookie, he sees the smile splitting your lips open. Art leans forward and swipes the icing from the counter with his index finger before popping it into his mouth. He smiles at you around his finger, and you flush as warmth spreads throughout your body.

Ѽ

“Nancy,” you start. “I just finished setting up this entire table. I am not moving all of this again.” You gesture to the spread of homemade cookies, pumpkin shaped cake pops, and pretzel rods dipped and drizzled in orange, black, and purple icing and sprinkles. The cookies themselves were a pain to arrange. You wanted there to be an even number of skull and jack-o’-lantern shaped sugar cookies on each platter. And each cookie needed to be facing forward. You didn’t think you had the patience for some snaggletoothed kid to ask what’s this? And plant their finger right on the cookie only to decide they hate pumpkins and leave it there. 

“Okay!” She says defensively. “I just wonder if it’s such a good idea for the sweets table to be so close to the bouncy house. I wouldn’t want the kids to get sick.”

She turns to assess the giant inflated pumpkin. “I’d say they probably need a good 50 feet to walk and let the cookies settle before they start jumping up and down…don’t you think?”

You stare back blankly at the woman. “You just had me move because you said the smell of the petting zoo might ruin appetites.”

“And it could!” She whips her head back around at you, her blonde bob slapping the side of her face. “Those baby goats are cute, but they don’t smell great hon!”

You fold your arms.

“Alright.” Nancy raises a hand with a shake of her bobble head. “We won’t move,” she relents, “but could you maybe just tell each kid to eat their treats at the table, you know just to make sure they stand around for a couple of minutes before running to the bouncy castle?”

You start to tell her that it’ll be hard to control what a bunch of excited, elementary schoolers do after they get some sugar in them, but decide it’s not worth arguing with her. You glance over at her husband, Frank, who has set out his red and black folding chair next to the drink cooler. She’d instructed him to make sure each kid grabbed one drink at a time because “lord knows we’ll be picking up half full juice boxes all night.” Without so much as a glance, he’d mumbled a well versed “yes honey” and sat in his chair, staring into the distance and scratching his chest.

You decide to take a page out of Frank’s book.

“Sure, Nancy.”

Ѽ

Your table proves to be a popular one. You’re not even halfway through the festival, and most of your cake pops are gone, and the sugar cookies are depleting by the minute. You blame Art for being such a distraction that you didn’t think to bake more cookies just in case. Once he’s done with face painting duty, you plan on letting him have it.

You’re counting how many jack-o’-lantern  cookies are left on the platters when a voice interrupts you.

“I always did love your baking.”

“Chris? What are you doing here?”

Your ex husband is standing in front of you, hands in his pockets as he smiles down at your spread of goodies.

He makes his way over to your side of the table. “My boy practically begged me to come, so of course I had to show up.”

You turn and purse your lips. “Well I hadn’t heard from you so I assumed you weren’t coming. They took your name off the list at the PTA meeting.”

“Dad!”

You look over to see your son barreling towards his father. He laughs reaching out to haul him up into the air. His little pirate hat goes crooked on his head. “You came!”

“Yeah, man, I told you I would!”

They fall into their own conversation as you help serve treats to some other kids that have wandered to the table. Despite your feelings about Chris, you can’t help but smile at the sound of Kaleb’s giggles. You’re glad that his dad’s presence brings him so much joy. You remember a time when you too felt that unyielding happiness around him. That flutter in your belly and the warmth in your chest that can only be characterized as pure, genuine fondness. God, you were so fond of him.

At the time, you thought you could never experience anything better than that. It’s why you agreed to marry him. And why you also agreed to stopping your birth control. Knowing he wanted to start a family with you made you love him even more, because to have a child with someone is to irrevocably tie yourself to that person. Being loved by Chris was your point of reference for so long.

But that was before.

Before he decided you weren’t enough for him, before he decided to be withholding, before he made you feel unlovable. It turns out that having a child with someone isn’t the symbol of unconditional love that you’d believed it was. Once you had removed the rose tinted glasses, you were able to see that love isn’t something that’s promised to you. Even if someone makes that promise to you, the love itself may not endure. You’re not sure how much control Chris really had when it came to loving you. You’re still figuring out what love entails when you’re not with him.

Now, you just hope that Kaleb will never learn what it’s like to not be loved by his father. That he’ll never have to vie for his affections nor his attention. That he will always feel held by his love and not stifled by it.

You feel something poke your hip, jolting you from your thoughts. It’s Kaleb, pressing his plastic pirate’s hook into your side to get your attention. You grab the hook in your hand, reminding him to be mindful of the point. He offers you a sheepish, snaggletoothed smile. “Sorry.”

You sigh and run your hands over his curls before gently tugging his ear. It’s a habitual motion that began when he was a toddler. He could be a little rambunctious, running around the house in nothing but a pull-up to avoid bedtime. When you’d finally catch him, you would ruffle his hair and gently pinch his little ears, calling him a silly monkey. He would erupt into fits of giggles before breaking away again making “ooh-ooh ah-ah” sounds.

Kaleb takes his arm behind his back in an effort to control his hook. “Dad said I can go with him tonight!”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah! Said once this is over we can go have some real fun!”

Chris laughs, patting Kaleb’s shoulder.

“What does that mean? Real fun?” You raise an eyebrow at your ex.

“Oh Christ! I’m just gonna take him to get some ice cream or something,” he says.

“I’m just trying to make sure my son doesn’t pick up any of your…” you look over him from head to toe, “… bad habits.”

He rolls his eyes.

“But yeah, that’s fine,” you sigh. “Do you have the booster seat?”

“Yeah, and it’s the perfect height for him to see the girls at the strip club tonight,” he cracks a smile like it’s the funniest thing ever.

Kaleb catches sight of a classmate and almost knocks his dad over in his haste to run to them. Chris shouts “Be careful!” before glancing over at you and chuckling.

You curl your lip in disgust before turning toward the couple approaching your table and offering them a bright smile. You can feel Chris’ eyes on you as you move to serve them. Once they’ve gone, you turn to him.

“Is there a reason you’re still standing here?”

He chuckles. “How do you know I didn’t want some of your cookies?”

“Okay, well what are you getting?” You ask impatiently.

He doesn’t answer the question. Instead, he runs his thumb over his bottom lip and smirks, “You look really good.”

Your stomach twists.

“I miss you.” He searches your face. “You know that?”

You scoff. “No you don’t,” you say definitively before turning away from him.

You then notice that Art is making his way over to your table. He’s wearing the same black and orange “fall fest committee” shirt that you are, but his figure fills it out much better than you can. His jeans are hanging effortlessly on his hips, and you think that if he hadn’t stuck with tennis all those years, modeling would’ve been a great second option.

Your field of vision gets cut off by your mosquito of an ex husband. You literally swat at him to move away, but he’s still smiling at you.

“Please just get whatever you’re gonna get and leave me alone.”

He reaches for you. “C’mon, baby, don’t be like that.”

You yank your arm out of his reach, sending him a warning glare.

He ignores the warning, stepping closer to you to lean down near your ear. “You know every time I come pick up Kaleb, I just think, God, what will it take for me to get those pretty legs open again?”

A loud smack resounds as his head snaps to the side. You’re gritting your teeth. “Fuck you.”

He holds his cheek from where you’ve smacked him, a tiny smirk etched onto his face.

You point your finger at him. “How dare you? How dare you come to me with this shit! You have a fucking fiancée!” Your hands have started to tremble as your anger rises. “I mean, seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?? You don’t get to treat me the way you did then come here saying shit like that!”

You don’t realize that Art has been standing there. He sees your trembling hands and glassy eyes and subtly positions himself between the two of you. “Is everything okay?”

You’re still glaring at your ex as if daring him to say something else.

Like the coward he is, Chris lowers his voice like he’s talking to a rabid animal. He tells you that you need to calm down before turning to Art. “Yeah, man, everything’s fine.” It’s just like him to make it seem like you’re the one who’s unhinged in the company of outsiders.

Thankfully, Art isn’t just some person.

He fully stands between the two of you, blocking you from Chris’ sight. You hear him say, “yeah well it doesn’t seem like it, man.” The muscles in his back are tense and his shoulders are square.

Chris sounds like he’s about to say something, but Art doesn’t let him finish. “I think you should leave her alone.”

You swallow and look down at your shaky hands willing them to be still.

Chris makes a move to step around Art. His jaw is clenched tight. “Respectfully, I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

Art lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. It wasn’t a request,” he says.

A second or two passes by as the two men stare at each other. Chris squints at Art, throws a glance around at you before stepping back with a laugh. He shakes his head assessing the way Art has planted himself in front of you. His eyes drop to where you’re fisting the end of Art’s t-shirt in an attempt to calm your nerves. He mumbles something about not being surprised but continues his retreat. “I’ll drop Kaleb off Sunday night,” he announces over his shoulder.

Once he’s gone, Art turns to you, rubbing his palms down your arms. “Hey,” he bends down to look you in your eyes. “You’re okay.”

It only makes your lip tremble more, the anger from earlier dissipating as something else takes over. Art tells you he’ll be right back. You bring your arms over your chest as your breathing gets heavier. The ruckus in the air is starting to feel suffocating. Your ears are ringing and you begin to feel tingling in your cheeks.

When Art comes back, he has Nancy’s husband, Frank, in tow. He tells him something, but you can’t hear him over the sound of your own heartbeat. You’re gasping for air. You barely pick up Art’s voice saying “come with me.” You let him take your hand and lead you out of the chaos.

Ѽ

The sound of Art’s car door shutting makes you realize that your face has stopped tingling. You blink as your breathing returns to normal and the static-like ringing in your ears fades away. You rub your palms over your fabric covered thighs and take one big breath before exhaling. Something moves in your peripheral vision, and you glance to your left. Art is sitting in the driver’s seat, but most of his upper body is facing you. His soft eyes watch you with a patience that makes you want to cry all over again. You reach for him.

Art immediately pulls you to him, letting you settle in his lap as you wrap your arms around his neck and rest your head on his shoulder. He presses a kiss to your head.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” you mumble into his shirt.

“Baby,” he runs a hand over your back.

“No, it was pathetic. I can’t believe I let him get under my skin like that.”

“It was a panic attack. It’s not your fault,” Art murmurs into your hair. “And that’s exactly why he did that. He wanted to get a reaction out of you. Don’t blame yourself.”

You lift your head up to look at him. You search his face. All you find is sincerity.

You brush your thumb over the skin behind his ear and lean in. Your noses gently bump against one another before you’re pressing your lips to his. It’s soft, slow, and deliberate. Art places his palm flat against the small of your back as he returns the kiss with equal tenderness. Through your lips and your tongue, you try to tell Art everything you aren’t able to say with your voice. And if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was telling you the exact same thing back.

When you bring your hips down to roll against him, Art tells you “we don’t have to.” It’s your turn to tell him that you want this.

You move to the backseat. He peppers quick kisses over you every now and then as you both work to get each other’s pants down. It would probably be quicker to simply take them off one at a time, but you two aren’t thinking properly. Your head is swimming from how bad you need him right now. Once you’ve gotten your jeans off, and Art’s are to his knees, he’s sitting back against the black leather, pulling you with him.

You release a small whimper when his wet mouth attaches to your throat. His forehead knocks against your shoulder as you reach your hands under his shirt. “Off. Please.” He lets out a soft grunt as he complies with your request.

Before he can fully toss the committee shirt to the side, you’re running your hands over his chest. You stop at his nipples, letting your thumb roll over the small buds. Despite his attempt to hold it in, Art moans when you lean down and swirl your tongue around his nipple. It makes his cock jump.

You begin to move against his hard member, seeking out the friction of him bumping against your clit. Art gets his tongue back into your mouth as he reaches under your shirt, pinching your nipples. His lips smack against yours as he brings his hands around to your back. He lets them trace down your spine until they meet the band of your underwear.

Art dips both hands into your panties and smoothes his palms over your cheeks. He grips your ass as he guides you to rock against him. You moan into his mouth before you lift your hips to allow him room to pull his underwear down his thighs.

His dick slaps against his abdomen.

Your mouth waters and your stomach clenches in anticipation. You reach for him, and Art lets you take him in your hand, pumping him one, two, three times before he’s greedily grabbing your hips. He promptly hooks his thumb in the seat of your panties. He uses the leverage to pull them to the side, and you guide his tip to rub against your sticky folds. You moan as you drag it upwards to which Art starts rutting his head against your clit.

Without warning, you press Art’s tip to your opening. He hisses when you start to sink down onto him. With him fully buried in your cunt, you let out a sigh. He wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you to his chest. You two share a kiss as he begins shallowly thrusting into you.

Ѽ

After the both of you have finished, Art doesn’t pull out right away. He keeps you there for a moment telling you he just wants to feel you for a little bit more. Naturally, you don’t protest. The two of you sit within the fogged windows of his car in blissful silence as he lazily strokes your back.

Unfortunately, the shrill ringing of your cellphone punctures that silence.

It’s Nancy.

She asks where you’ve disappeared to, then doesn’t let you respond as she tells you that Frank is at your table which is now empty. They’re going to start cleaning up in about 45 minutes.

When you rejoin the festival, you and Art spot your kids and their friends comparing their various prizes and candy. Standing off to the side is Tashi. She sends you a smile when she notices you. Your stomach drops.

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

a/n: As always, let me know what you think <3 my asks are open!

[l8dyvenus]

astrology observations. #5

+ Moon in 4th tend to look for partners that remind them of their mothers. If placed in a man’s chart, I typically see this as them going for older women. 👩‍👦

regardless, If you want to bag a cancer placement man, nurture him or act like his mother. It will literally do the trick🙃trust me, I know, it’s literally how I bagged my boyfriend. but be careful, they most definitely have breeding kicks especially mixed w Virgo.

and if they are ethnic, learn more about the culture or ask about it. take trips to their homeland too! or just simply do your own research to impress them.

+ it’s true, Libra suns run from conflict or ignore it. and if mixed with Water placements in a chart, they tend to lie to try to keep the peace. sometimes it does backfire on them.

+ Leo moons, did your mom always try to humble you?

+ Cancers and Taurus’s go so well together 🥹

+ I noticed that people who’s planet(s) fall into my 8th house tend to give/buy me things everytime I see them. I literally don’t even have to ask. they give me more compliments and find me pretty than people who’s planets fall into my 1st. 🤣

As a 8th house Stellium, I loveeeee people who fall into my 8th house, never had an bad encounter we just always clicked🫶🏾.

+ read a post that said Mars in 4th H takes on which ever parent shows that aggressive impatience nature and whewww, they didn’t have to read me like that 🤭.

+ a Scorpio moon once told me, “if they are not obsessed with me, I just don’t think they like me fr” LMFAOOO

+ All Scorpio moons aren’t as bad as portrayed to be, it really just depends on their relationship with their mother. I see this placement as like having a Cancer/4th house moon. even though Scorpio is at fault in this position, it shows greatly that the mother has a MAJOR influence and role on how they act, respond, their mindset, and characteristics. and all Scorpio moons and their relationship with their mothers are not bad either. but they could be over smothering. either a light helicopter parent, or a over the extent helicopter parent. I noticed that it depends on how well the moon is aspected. when the moon is negatively aspected, the moon person typically takes on the toxic characteristics and personality of their mothers which makes them destructive and “bad” as the stereotype. when not negatively aspecting, they are much more self/socially aware and conscious. not saying that negative aspected moons can’t be more self evolved, but they tend to have the shorter end of the stick. they just have take that journey to get there.

I met a Scorpio moon where his moon was well aspected with trines and sextiles to harmonious planets. His mother wasn’t abusive, narcissistic or any of that sort. Scorpio moon people typically were born at a time where it was very inconvenient traumatic time for the parents, especially the mother. This showed up in his chart as his mother being over protective and overly affectionate. Not necessarily an over the extent “helicopter” parent, but he would tell me she calls him everyday, sends him bible scriptures, tried to put him in the best schools, best positions in life to be better or have better than she had. Although majority of the choices she made for him, is not what he wanted, he knows that it’s from the good intentions of her heart. Pluto = evolution, death/rebirth, betterment, etc, so her actions showed up as wanting to protect him in her own traumatic way but also wanting him to evolve into something better.

+ Justice from the movie Poetic Justice definitely had Venus in the 8th H 💌

side note - I feel like erykah badu does too. I saw a post saying that every man she dealt with when they met her weren’t self evolve, then after their relationship they were all into the occult and dressed bohemian lmfaooo. like literally, search up erykah badu and the guys she dated, how they look then and now.

+ Neptune in the 4th, is it just me or is it hard to get anything done in your house without feeling tired? I have a lot of energy outside of my home, but when I get to my moms place I feel lazy and especially depressive. It’s hard for me to do anything. I didn’t realize that until I recently left for college then came back for visits, and then permanently stayed. Lmk 👄?

+ a Uranus dom or heavily placed in a males chart most definitely likes to paint his own nails. I don’t know if he is or not, but search up Dennis Rodman. He gives me Uranus Dom Vibes.

+ on the topic of Uranus, Aquarius, Leo, & Virgo placements in 8th degree are very experimental, but they can be deep into things like the dark web, bdsm, smut, abusive sex, etc. like really dark sexual shit.

+ Capricorn placements and the dying urge to crack the hell out of every bone in their body just for fun >> 😼

+ Aquarius moons tend to run to their friends for every thing, especially when it comes to family matters. friends could be an outlet for venting. But I noticed they tend to have a weird relationship with them. One minute they can have a lot of close friends and the next, those same close friends aren’t very close anymore.

+ water placements (especially moons) pay attention to how you feel around ppl. that is your biggest gift.

Anyways, CIAO! 😽

MASTERLIST

[luffysinterlude]

This is my first time requesting something so I don’t really know how to do it lol but would you be able to write a shanks x reader where shanks is readers captain and confesses to her? Thank you!

SOULTIES. . .

★ summary: shanks confesses his love for you. (fem!reader)

★ warnings: one piece antics, ooc!shanks, reader is extroverted, angst if you squint, idiots in love, reader and shanks might’ve manifested each other (soulmates basically), assassin!reader, fluff/somewhat suggestive (thanks beckmann!!), WC: ≈1.8K…is this a drabble?!

★ an: never really thought abt writing for shanks so thank you for this request! i tried my best so i hope its somewhat something you wanted, anon! ^^

shank’s sure you’re secretly a witch that has some sort of past-life soul tie to him.

he thinks maybe it’s because he’s somewhat always drawn to you; it’s subtle, but whenever he feels your presence near him, he searches for your figure. it’s also somewhat obvious, to everyone but you. maybe you did know of his infatuation with you, maybe you didn’t.

but shanks felt his life change the day you were found hiding in his ship, demanding that he and his men accept you, claiming you have nothing else better to do with your time and that you’ve always wanted to explore the world. he didn’t have much of a choice, considering the red-haired pirates had already been at sea for three days since their last stop.

you snuck on the red force during a party thrown by locals for the pirates, hiding in a supply closet, discovered by the right-hand man of the captain. at first, you were worried of what they might do to you, but then remembered that they were just men.

“well, sweets,” the man said. “i’m sure a woman wouldn’t just waltz her way onto a very notorious pirate ship and not know how to fend for herself…?”

you smirk at him, a spark in your eyes as the tone of your voice held a slight challenge. “i was trained to be an assassin.”

it was then he felt a sudden shift in the air, chuckling at your remark. he’s always up for a new challenge.

“well, we got a reason to party boys!”

again, he’s sure there’s a past-life connection between the two of you. (he thought how easily he was able to trust you, after blacking out.)

+x+

it’s been two years since you’ve joined the red-haired pirates, time flying as you enjoy the thrills of life. you’ve never felt this free before, coming from a noble family and being able to escape thanks to a certain red-haired man. you’ve dreamed of life feeling this way since you were a little girl, wondering what beauties your family had kept hidden from you.

you’ve learned so much. you’ve experienced so much. truth be told, you’re not sure if life could feel any better than this. though, you do wonder what would happen if you fell in love.

you’ve been courted by many suitors your entire life, growing up only to be taught two things: how to kill, and how to be a wife. the word love was something you associated with the tortures of your old self, but you feel as if you’re finally ready to experience it on your own; without people in your ear scolding you on how to act and how to ‘love’. you think you have a grasp of what the feeling feels like, but you’re still somewhat unsure.

you’ve accepted that your next suitor — someone you already know — is someone who won’t make you feel restricted or tied down. you’ve decided that you deserve nothing but the best treatment, and so far on this journey of freedom, one charming pirate captain has set your standards to the sky.

“food for thought?” a familiar voice breaks your thoughts as you blink back to consciousness, your eyes focusing on the waves in front of you. you’re standing on the observation deck of the red force, a light breeze brushing through your [h/c] locks as your captain stands next to you. in his hand there’s half of a cookie, a giggle escaping your throat when you notice it.

“is said food present?” you reply back, taking the half-eaten sweet treat anyway. a small chuckle reaches your ears as he leans over the railing, eyes watching the smooth waves. it’s night time now, stars sprinkling the sky. “just thinking,” you answer his question.

captain shanks. the shanks. a name that’s feared by many, though it’s one that brings you peace and joy. he’s a charming man, always looking out for not only his crew, but friend and foe alike. your mind can’t help but start thinking about marineford, the first time you’ve ever seen shanks in the flesh. a beautiful man, you first thought. a powerful one at that too. he looks like freedom.

“hmm. you shouldn’t let your thoughts consume you so much.” he states. it’s late and he knows he should be resting, but for some reason he wasn’t able to ease his restlessness. when he saw your figure out on deck, he then knew it was you keeping him up. “not sure what you’re thinking so hard about but if you need a reminder: you’re everything everyone says you are — powerful, beautiful, and intelligent according to the tabloids. a threat to the world, you’re quite the star.”

his words make heat rush to your cheeks, a sudden wave of nervousness hitting you. your relationship with the captain has always been full of back and forth teasing with a few intimate gazes, but to hear him state a compliment so sweet to you makes you want to shy away. instead, you put your brave face on, and return the gesture.

“yeah? and how does the big and scary emperor ease his mind on nights like this?” or maybe not. you internally cringe at your comeback, a feeling of disappointment lingering wishing you had said something more flirty, but as your eyes finally find the captain’s face, a tint of pink painted his cheeks.

“well this big and scary emperor, usually finds something — or someone — to spend his time with,” this time, shank’s the one cringing internally, the weight of his words settling on him. great, now she must think i’m a whore, he thinks.

you realize you’re both tip-toeing around each other. you both want to say something — which usually isn’t this hard — but you’re also both unsure of how the other feels, so you’re holding back.

you sigh as you physically feel your guard being lifted.

“i wonder…” you start quietly. “how it feels to be in love.”

shank’s eyebrows raise at your confession, something he’s never been told before. he’s had plenty of interactions with women — lovely ones at that — but he’s never heard a woman speak of love so vulnerably. he turns his body to face you, arm resting against the railing of the deck. he takes in your side view, the moon shining down on you so brightly.

and then he feels it, a feeling so foreign yet so familiar to him.

you suddenly turn to face him, eyes catching his in a soft gaze. he looks different, you think. the way his eyes shine brightly from the moon’s rays. the way his hair seemed to be brighter as well, despite the lack of light. you tilt your head, silently questioning his silence, wondering if you had said something stupid.

“have you ever been in love, captain?” you ask, watching as his eyes widen slightly, your question throwing him off guard.

one of the things shanks admires about you is your curiosity. in the time he’s been around you, he’s noticed many things about you — how you love dancing, eating [f/d], scolding the boys — but your curiosity makes you different from everyone else. people always assume you’re just nosey and full of gossip, but really, you’re just curious.

he’s never heard of you spreading rumors or telling lies, so he knows how genuine you are.

sure, you might overstep boundaries with some people, but shanks never minded answering your questions. you’ve confided in him before, telling him how your parents basically shielded you from the outside world. how caged in you felt.

“i think…” shanks starts. he steps closer to you, staring down at you. stars reflect in his eyes as he cradles your cheek suddenly, your body relaxing under his touch. “that’s the feeling i feel when i’m around you.”

you let out a choked breath at his sudden confession, the world around you both going silent. your eyes are wide and your jaw is slightly wide, chest swelling with warmth.

the captain who’s been helping you to experience true freedom just confessed something so delicate to you.

you’re unsure what to say. it hits you so hard that you feel tears well in your eyes and you feel your throat go dry.

“y-you — you what?!” you say. “you can’t just say something like that out of nowhere, idiot!” you scold the tall man, his eyes closing as he chuckled at your reaction. “sorry, cap’n. got a lil carried away there…but do you mean it?” you ask, averting your gaze away from his.

he rubs his thumb across your cheek, looking at you with eyes full of love, as if he’s trying to imprint this image in his head. he thinks about all the teasing the both of you throw, how you’ve never been scared to bite back. he thinks about the times he’s watched you publicly shame men who make you disgusted in bars, how your strength impresses him every time. he thinks about the times where he’s been lucky enough to witness you on the battlefield, so full of life despite being surrounded by death.

“yes.” he finally answers, the tension suddenly gone. “you’ve always been so curious about others, it’s made me curious in you. i’ve watched you grow over the past two years and somewhere along the way,”

“i fell in love with you. the way you naturally take on responsibility and the way you’re not scared of anything. i fell in love with the way you’ve faced death with a smile on your face, how optimistic you are.”

“i fell in love with the way you look in the mornings, the afternoons, and the evenings. and for the first time ever, i’m seeing you this late at night. and you look as beautiful as ever.”

“i fell in love with your presence, how you’re able to shift the energy in the air wherever you go. i’m not sure you even realize your effect in the places we visit. you bring such a lovely, warm spirit into the room, you have no idea how many bad days you’ve turned good.”

his words made you sick. your breathing got heavy as he confessed everything he’s learned to love about you, and a feeling you’ve desperately tried forgetting crawled its way back into your chest.

this time, your body accepted the feeling and for the first time in your life, your body filled with love. a warmth that’s somewhat familiar but so distant. something that’s new, almost sort of a craving you didn’t know you were capable of having.

and then, you kissed your captain.

you hoped he felt the love you had for him, words not being enough to describe the emotions running through you. he kissed you back; hand grasping the back of your head gently, pulling you closer to him.

you threw your hands around his neck, shanks’ body jerked forward, his eyes slightly widening at your strength. he relaxed and smiled into the kiss, giving you one last peck before pulling away from your grasp — before you accidentally hurt him.

“what? never handled a strong woman before?” you tease, smiling at his small tumble backwards. “i think i feel love when i’m around you too.”

+x+

the next morning, a tired shanks dragged himself into the dining area, pouring himself a cup of coffee. he fails to notice beckmann sitting across from him, too lost in his thoughts; the previous night replaying in his head.

“you’re an asshole,” beckmann starts. “i get you all had a great night, but not everyone needed auditory confirmation.”

★ an: ahhh!! ty for reading ^^ please feel free to request head canon scenarios!! i’ve never written for shanks so i hope i did him somewhat justice…as always, constructive criticism is always appreciated and welcomed!!

[dragonsoulage]

The sweetest treat of all...you

feat. L Lawliet

What better way could exist then to get himself focused again, then to have the sweetest treat of all to himself? His sweet maid that was devine in every way.

Hello together, in this short story you are a maid from L. And well idk for some reason I just really craved something like this xD so I hope you enjoy, this is btw my first kinda smutty thing I wrote so here we are ☠️ and I suck in proof reading lol.

MDNI

Warnings: It's smut, oral sex (f recieving), squirting, fingering

Wordcount: 2,2k

You never thought you would end up right here now when you were employed as a personal maid to the one and only L. You were indeed absolutely fitting, a good maid, kept everything clean, and you were just seen when necessary. You worked quickly and efficiently. Even when you weren't a part of the task force—that way, everyone adored you. It was nearly like you knew what everyone needed. Always doing your work with such determination and devotion. You always put up with L's quirks. Like serving everything he needed, you learned how he liked it. Leanred how he functioned. You never knew why, though, but you did what would help him to solve the case. Serving tea at the perfect temperature. Bringing the cake, he probably would like the most right in this moment. Although you sometimes even worried a little since he worked nonstop.

But oh little did you know a way to unwind would be him nose deep inside your cute pussy.

You were on the couch, his slender fingers grabbing your thighs, spread out for him. After all, you were his personal maid; you were there to fulfill his every need, right? You were already squirming, and your hands tugged gently on his fluffy raven hair as he shamelessly wiped his tongue over your pussy. "So sweet..." You heard him mumble before he drove right back in. And this went on...for like forever. You already had like your 3rd orgasm. But the detective had other plans. For some reason, he developed a liking for you. Indeed, he was really aware of that and tried to observe what was happening to him when he saw you. Or simply, when he got a whiff of your perfume because you stood next to him, he always turned his head to look at your adorable face.

Although it was so not for him to just get attached to someone, he got attached to you. You have done your job for a while now. Always so good and responsible. He never complained about you. He felt urges. He usually never felt at all. Like the feeling he wanted to taste you. Since men in his surroundings spoke about eating out pussy and how sweet it would taste. L liked sweet treats; they helped him to concentrate.

And you, for sure, were adorable. So right the moment when you had served some cake, L turned around to you. "I would like to have another treat. Something that would help stimulate my brain a little more." He said to you in his monotone voice, looking at you with his dark eyes crouched in his chair. You smiled before you went through the options—what would be the best now, but he interrupted you.

L wasn't the social butterfly, so instead of beating around the bush, he was straight forward. "No cake indeed, and no candy. I would like to have you." His thumb was on his lower lip as always when he was thinking. He tilted his head slightly, watching your reaction. You were frozen for a second and then simply blinked at him. "W-what do you mean?" You asked, and your cheeks flushed with that cute pink shade. He fell for you even when L was so composed. The detecitve cleared his throat then. You had been a lot on his mind lately, and he couldn't afford distractions—the only way to not be distracted would be when he finally would satisfy a certain craving. "Please tell me when this is uncomfortable. I am simply not used to ask for things like that. And I will be perfectly fine when you say no. So don't hesitate or be afraid...to even say no." It was cute in his little weird way. Wanting to have you comfortable even when he did not know at all how he should ask about the fact he wanted his tongue deep inside your pussy.

"I... am listening, so please go on." You said you wiped your hands on your apron. You tried to gain back composure. "When you let me, I would like to taste your pussy." He finally said to you.

And then... God, you didn't even remember how you ended up shaking on the couch. You agreed yes, but he already got 3 orgasms out of you; you were only able to remember your own name. Your cute maid dress was raised up to your waist. Panties pulled down somewhere on the ground. His tongue lapping at your hot slit. Savoring every drop and taste that he could get from your pussy. And you, well, you were the best sweet treat he ever had. Better than any chocolate cake could be. He crouched in front of you on the floor. Just holding your thighs open, that sometimes tried to close because you were so overstimulated. And these cute little noises—he loved to simply listen to you.

"L...I can't take more." You whined your eyes shut close when you felt his tongue flicking over your poor clit. Your pussy is just so responsive to his touches; all his attention is now laid on you. A rare thing for the detective. "But I barley got a taste...besides that." The pale man between your legs spoke muffled against your soaping wet folds. Before his dark eyes looked up, trying to see your expression. "You look gorgeous when you cum. When I wouldn't be needed in other things, I probably would eat you out all day." He told you, and you got him hooked. Your pussy is sweeter than honey; his own personal meal only he could enjoy. His sweet maid being spread out for him, with that heaven between your legs. When he knew pussy eating would be such a thing for him, he would have done that sooner. Your back arched off again when he nibbled on your clit, your hands tugging on his hair, and he groaned when you pulled his head closer—so much to the fact you said you couldn't take any more. Your juices were running down his chin, and his tongue was plunging deep, wiggling its way inside. God, every time you tried to close your thighs as if you wanted to crush his head between your legs. Although he wouldn't mind that at all. But he kept your thighs wide open for better acces.

"Fuck, going to cum again when you don't stop...L...I am shaking." You moaned, barley, able to breathe properly. Before he simply pulled you closer on your hips, sucking your clit between his now glossy lips. "So damn devine..." He murmured while watching how your lips shaped in a pretty 'oh' because of his ministrations. And then you came again, hard and shaking, but not quiet the result he wanted. He wanted you to let go, to simply gush out on his face, and to cum. Just so he could slurp up your sweet juices. His face slowly faded away from your folds, looking at them and how damn sloppy he ate you out.

Before he lifted his head and L's thumb, smearing the combined juices along your cunt, you shuddered. "You can give me more, right?" He asked, his voice laced with a desire you never thought you would hear. You were so overstimulated that you shook your head, although secretly you wanted him to keep going. He lifted an eyebrow, and his lips formed a smirk before he wiped your juices off with his sleeve. "No? But I read about the fact that women can be brought to multiple orgasms until they simply burst. Kinda want to put that theory to the test, pretty maid." Usually, L wasn't one for nicknames, but after seeing how it affected you in moaning louder, he knew what he needed to say.

Curiously, he looked down at your bare cunt again. "Are you really going to try to make me squirt?" You asked just looking at him with these cum drunken doe eyes. So pretty. Alone every time you quivered, when his thumb circled your clit in slow circles, it made you clench around nothing. You squirmed nearly as if you wanted to run away. His arm held you still. "When this means I get a good taste of you again, then yes, I want to make you squirt." L meant before his slender fingers touched along your slit. His fingers are kind of long; probably they would reach that point that would make you a sobbing, sweet mess. All this just to satisfy his cravings. "I never did that before; probably it isn't going to work either." You wanted to explain, in your little shy and cute way, why you couldn't. But your pussy was already pulsating and dripping with need. But then two fingers interrupted you when they entered. Your pretty pussy clenching around them.

He worked his tongue on you. Two digits stretched you deliciously. His long and slender fingers had you gasping. And He watched closley how you reacted. So eager and so focused to make you squirt just so he could get all the candied nectar for himself. "So about that special spot, sweet girl." He started giving your swollen clit a short kiss before his lips were replaced with his thumb, which drew out some pressure on your bud. "I still need to locate it; make you all the more sensetive." L told you, and he tilted his wrist a little, and then, oh, he crooked his fingers. Your eyes widen with shock and bliss, your jaw hanging open before you wanted to throw back your head. "Think I found it." You could listen to the satisfied hum in his voice. And it had you moaning even louder, your chest heaving. Your pussy is so sloppy and wet. Squelching all around his fingers. "Fuck...oh God, fuck." Was all you could say. You looked away simply because you were so shy and literally were cumming on the hand and mouth from the world's best detective.

Until you felt another hand on your face, your chin, he gently grabbed as he averted to him. Besides the fact that L was aroused himself; he wanted you to come undone; it would be turning him on more than he said out loud. L wanted your eyes on him because it was just so cute how shy your face flushed. "Eyes on me, little maid. It increases the level of arousal by about 90 percent." He told you, his own erection straining against his pants. Your droopy eyes tried to look at him; oh, you struggled so adorable. While his fingers were pumping inside you, stroking that gummy part of you that made you see stars as you whimpered.

L found himself quiet fond of the way your striking eyes looked at him, your cheeks flushed and your chest heaving. Your plump lips parted. Before he lowered his head again, his tongue lapping out to flick over your poor swollen bud. His eyes still looking through his messy black hair watching you squirm and buck up your hips. You were so close, he could tell it. His movements with his fingers are simply growing to be more precise. So much so that you tried to take his hand from you, but he kept his fingers hooked inside your pussy. "It feels weird; I... am not going to last." You breathed out thighs shaking already, but he then sucked on your clit. "It's normal you feel that way. It is said that female orgasm can be quite powerful when stimulated in the right way. Just so much, you have the feeling you would burst." The usual so composed detective explains while still being busy with your pussy. "Come on, sweet maid, give me what I crave." L urged you, and oh, as on command, your orgasm rolled over you. Legs shaking and breath hitching. Your back arched off the couch. Your sweet juices gushing out slightly onto his face as he slurped up the syrupy juices from your cunt, indeed lapping up in every corner. You were devine, a treat he never would want to pass. His fingers allowed the pace to slow down before he slid them out. "Such a sweet girl." L murmured while he still kissed your spent pussy, still getting every last drop of you; nothing would go to waste. Finally, he had what he craved—the taste he yearned for so badly—this distraction was gone.

But as you watched him between your thighs, you weren't unaware of this immense bulge. Now L had another problem that would need to be satisfied by his cute maid. "Well, now it's your turn." You said and tilted your head. L caught a little off guard, as he was feeling the pulsing need in his loins. He sat there and analyzed you. But before he could say anything clever, you were a little faster. Maneuvered you two so you were now straddling his lap, grabbing his hands to lay them on your hips, when you started to ground slowly and sensually over his boner, still tugged away in his pants. "I heard that it increases the level of arousal by about 95 percent." You chuckled watching how he simply looked up at you, and there...a small whimper left his lips. "And 100 percent when I take your dick inside me." You were always a shy one, but right now, after you saw how greedy L was for your pussy, you got a moment of confidence. Wanting to make the analytical boy panting... 

[moosesarecute]

Part 4: The Shadows Sing

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Azriel had spent the last week trying to figure out the most he could about living in The Middle.

He did research about different kinds of species, but he could not find anything about yellow bugs that made you pass out.

He also spent some time just observing the life of the female.

He learned her routine and the faces of the people she worked with.

What annoyed him, was the fact that he still didn’t know for sure if he actually had seen her surrounded by shadows.

Shadowsingers were rare, he knew that, but he still had a small hope that the female would be like him. They would have something to connect over. Because he really wanted to get to know her.

It took a week before he had time and enough knowledge to make a move.

He used his shadows to shadow walked directly into the cabin the female lived in.

“Friends!” His shadows cheered, but he couldn’t see anything. But he knew that either the female, or the shadows themselves, could have hidden the shadows in plain sight.

He knew she had started on the walk towards the cabin. He also knew that if she walked, it would take 15 minutes, maybe 10 if she was really fast.

So when the female opened the door to the cabin after only two minutes, Azriel knew for sure she had more magic in her than what she let out.

“You won’t believe it,” she sang as she danced through the door. “I won three fights! I have food for like 4 days!”

Azriel didn’t want to admit it, but he found her quite adorable. And so did his shadows.

“Pretty eyes! Cute!” They said as they tried to get out of Azriel’s grip and move towards the female.

He almost wanted to just stay still and observe her, with her cute dance moves and singing, but he knew he had to get the upper hand.

“Who are you talking to?” He asked with a raised brow.

Talking to an empty room seems like a sign that she had someone in her home she usually would speak to. Shadows for example.

The female dropped the bread and oatmeal she was holding. She started to back out of the cabin.

Azriel used his shadows to block the door. There was no way out, unless she decided to use her powers.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she answered. She straightened her back and pushed back her shoulders. She tried to be seen as strong and not scared, but Azriel could basically smell her fear.

Her sent, Azriel had decided, was a mix of pines and night air, but now it had a sour tinge.

An other obvious sign of her fear, was the fact that she was shaking from top to toe.

“You come into your cabin, obviously talking to someone, but there isn’t anyone here,” Azriel started to speak. He walked from one side of the small room to the other. “You also traveled a distance that would take 10 minutes to run, in less than 5 minutes.”

“What’s your point?” She asked. She tried to act unfazed, but Azriel saw straight through it. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I think you’re powerful,” he answered. “I think you’re like me.”

He then let loose his shadows.

They surrounded the female and tried to play with her hair.

She waved her hands and tried to get them to stop.

But Azriel didn’t miss the way her eyes almost doubled in size and how she tightened her jaw, fighting hard for it to not open.

He also didn’t miss how she started to fickle with her fingers to prevent his seeing her hands shake much worse than before.

What was going on?

Azriel pulled his shadows away from the female and waited for her to answer.

“I don’t know you who think I am, but you’re obviously mistaken.” She said and tried to look annoyed. But her voice was now shaking too.

“I saw you use them last time we met,” he argued.

He tried his best not to look too intimidating, while still being a little scary. He couldn’t just trust her, even though his every instinct told him that he should.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she answered. Her fear started to turn into anger. “And I don’t appreciate that you have been spying on me like an obsessed stalker.”

“I’m not obsessed,” he answered. “I’m curious.”

She didn’t answer for quite some time. She stood still and looked directly at him. Azriel raised his eyebrow once more. He would have loved to know what was going through her head.

“If I give you five minutes,” she started. “Five minutes to ask me the questions you have. And then you’ll leave me alone. Deal?”

Azriel felt his stomach twist. He had scared the female so much that she’d be willing to make a bargain with him to get him away.

Usually, that would be an ideal situation for him. He wouldn’t need to use any time consuming or dangerous tools to get the information.

However, with this female it felt so wrong. Her scared gaze made him want to throw up. He saw her shake and he wanted her to hold her until it stopped.

What was going on? He didn’t even know her name for cauldron’s sake!

“I have five minutes to ask you questions and you will respond truthfully. Then I’ll leave you alone if you want me to,” he told her.

“It’s a deal,” she answered.

The second they agreed, they both got a matching bargain tattoo on their forearm. It was abstract, but definitely looked like a shadow.

“What’s your name?” Azriel started.

They had taken seats with the table. Azriel sat on the tree stump acting like a chair and the female sat on the table.

“Y/N,” she answered.

Azriel felt shivers going through his spine. The name fit her.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Azriel.”

When he first heard the two twins talk about her name, he had felt a connection to it.

If was perfect.

“How old are you?” He continued.

“It’s that a little mean to ask a lady?” She asked back. Now it was her time to raise an eyebrow.

Azriel just sat and waited for an answer.

“I’ll be 70 soon,” she answered.

That surprised Azriel a little. She looked older, felt wiser. It was like she already had centuries of experience, even though she wasn’t even a century old.

“What was that bug that bit me?”

She gave out a small laugh.

“You actually don’t know?” Y/N asked. Azriel shook his head. She let out a sigh. “It was a Gelbbug. They live around here in the winter. Their bites usually only give people an itch, but around 1% of the time, the female bugs bites are lethal. It’s around the earlier stages of their pregnancies. One bite and you’d be dead within minutes.”

“So you saved my life?” He asked. He felt confused. Why would a female he’s never met before, safe his life? Especially after he had lot her a naga and apparently some money.

“Yeah,” she answered. “I suppose I did.”

Her eyes met his. Azriel felt time stop. It was just like it had been in all his dreams. Her sparkling bright eyes looked directly into his. Everything felt alright in the world for just that moment.

“I’ll ask the rest another day,” Azriel then said with a smug smile.

“What are you talking about?” She asked. “We just made a bargain. Five minutes and then you’d be gone!”

Azriel just shook his head.

“I have five minutes to ask questions, that was the deal,” he explained. “I one spent one minute asking questions. It’s not my fault you spent so long time answering them.”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“See you later,” he said and disappeared.

He was sure he heard the words “fucking prick” before he left.

@i-have-a-thing-for-the-dark @saltedcoffeescotch

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Greetings! I have assumed that because you're Welsh you must be able to sing. Am I right, or is this an unfair stereotype of your people? (Love your blog btw)

WELL. Yes. I can. No comment on the stereotypicality, but it's certainly true that group singing is a big cultural thing, particularly among Welsh speakers.

Uh, that said, I have the lowest voice of any cis woman I've ever met or seen. Zero songs are written for my vocal range. I dream of the day I find another so we can bond OR I can finally sing something with my vocal chords and gender in mind. If you're musically inclined at all for this to make sense to you, my comfortable range is B2 - C5, which means I can encompass all of tenor, a chunk of baritone in the low end, and not quite all of alto in the high end. The closest I've ever come to finding a female singer with a similar reach is Madeline in The Amazing Devil, who hits low notes even I struggle with in That Unwanted Animal; but she can go much higher than me (and is certainly more comfortable in a higher range than me), so she's just a vocal prodigy. Every choir teacher I've ever had has confidently told me "Plenty of famous singers are altos, you're not alone!" And I'm like "That would be useful, Beryl, but I'm not an alto and they all sing higher than me."

Thinking about it, though - this is entirely anecdotal and not backed up by any actual statistics - I have consistently found over the years that Welsh voices tend towards the lower end. I'm thinking back to the choir I was in in Aberystwyth, the Elizabethan Madrigal Singers. It was a student choir, so there was a mix of nationalities but mostly Welsh and English. I remember at one point the conductor stopped us on one song and made us sing one of the phrases, section by section from the basses up. The point he was making was about our pronunciation of the word 'castle'.

"Listen to that!" he laughed. "You all need to pronounce that 'a' the same way, and this is a formal piece, it needs to be long. It's "Cahstle", not "cassle". Look how only the sopranos are doing it right!"

And one of the basses looked along the line and went "Rob... that's because they're English."

And we realised that every bass and all but one alto was Welsh; two thirds of the tenors and every single soprano was English. The higher the voices went, the fewer Welsh people were present.

(Shout out to Rob, very quickly - he was an English tenor, but on reaching Aberystwyth University he'd learned a smattering of Welsh as best he could and joined the Welsh language choir as well as the Mads to practice it. He was affectionately known as 'Rob Sais' in honour of this respect. Really nice guy. I believe he's an engineer now.)

But yeah, that's a trend I have noticed over the years in other places, too. No idea how universal that is vs just my own observations in my own bubble, but there we are

[honey-flustered]

Kinktober Day 9: Body Worship

DBF!Jim Hopper x Artist!Fem!Reader

Summary: Hooper becomes your muse.

Warnings: age gap (Hopper 40s, Reader 20s), unethical relationship, cheating, c*ck worship, cum eating, cumming untouched, facef*cking, body worship, hopper has a big one (i know it), dacryphilia

You’re sitting at your dining room table sketching away when you felt a heavy hand on your head, tussling your hair. You quickly place your arms over your work, looking back at the unexpected guest with an anxious smile.

Hopper gives you a warm genuine smile. He’d come over for dinner by your father’s invitation with his girlfriend, Joyce Byers. When you learned of his relationship status, you were quite disappointed to say the least. You want to be happy for him as he appears to be a lot healthier and happier but because he’s not with you, it doesn’t settle right. Because of this you ignored him the entire night.

“Hey, kid,” He says with a soft chuckle at your startled look. His eyes squint at the way you hid your sketchbook. “Whatcha got there?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” You sigh, trying to feign indifference. “You wouldn’t like it.”

“No, I’m really curious,” He insists, sitting in a chair to face you. “I always care for your art.”

You clutched the book to your chest before slowly releasing it for him to take. It’s erotica art. The male vampire lover similar-looking to Hopper feeding from the breast of a woman similar-looking to you.

“That’s pretty good stuff.” He says, much to your surprise.

“I-it is.”

“Yeah,” He laughs. “Is this why you were afraid to show me?”

Your eyes bug out of your head. Did he catch on that the drawing looks similar to him? It’s so obvious! Of course, he knows.

“Because of a little nudity?” He continues. So he didn’t catch on, after all.

“Well, yeah,” You follow through with his observation. “People tend to get a bit uncomfortable with nudity so I didn’t want to do that to you.”

“I don’t mind nudity especially when it comes to incredible art like yours. The human body’s a natural thing.”

“Exactly! That’s actually the concept I’m going for with my art. Natural bodies, sexualities, and kinks. It’s about what makes humans find beauty and attraction or lack thereof beyond the human flesh.”

“I think it’s brilliant. Maybe a little above my intelligence level but I know you’ve got it.”

“Actually, I think you might be the only one who understands around here,” You admit. “My parents…they just think this whole art thing’s unsustainable. But I think with this art installation project coming up, I can prove them wrong. Do you…do you think you can help me, Sheriff Hopper?”

“How could I help?” He asks.

“Be my muse, pretty please.”

And when he agreed he’d no clue what he’d signed himself up for. For you to be so bold to ask your father’s best friend to be your muse when it meant seeing him in the nude, he couldn’t fathom you asking such a thing. And yet now here he was in your small studio contemplating on whether he should go through with removing the remainder of his clothing.

You place your pencil down onto the canvas’s utensil holder, approaching his tall frame. “What’s wrong? Do you need help taking off your pants?”

He swallows convulsively. “When I said I’d be your muse, I thought you just needed me to hold a quick pose…fully clothed.”

“My art concept’s about natural bodies, Sheriff,” You grab unto the waist band of his jeans that had been slightly undone to reveal his white boxers. You drag his pants down a little to where his rather sizable member rests above the open fly. He’s growing hard. “You knew that though. It’s exactly why you agreed to becoming my muse—so I can worship you.”

You palm him through his underwear and he groans, taking your hand away to place them over his hairy chest.

“I knew you as a teenager.” He protests.

“I was 19.” You roll your eyes, using your free hand to hook into his underwear and pull him closer.

“Your father wouldn’t approve.” He argues, a moan bubbling in his throat when you begin to kiss on his chest and swirl a tongue around his nipple. He squeezes your hand a little, releasing as if it is an expression of his diminishing restraint.

You pull away with a wet pop, a line of saliva connecting as you stare up at him with doe eyes. “When have I ever cared what my father approves of?”

“I have a girlfriend.” He counters.

You move your lips to his ear, hotly whispering, “So do I.”

Your lips find each other’s in a sloppy make out session of tongues and clashing teeth. Your hands roam his body, caressing his belly then slipping down his underwear to jerk him off. Even though, you can’t see it, you can tell that it’s not only deathly thick and long but super veiny, too, with a wicked curve. No wonder Joyce had been limping all throughout dinner that day.

You break away from his lips, peppering wet kisses all over his stomach and dipping your tongue in his bellybutton. When you’re finally on your knees, you rub the base of him through the fabric. You bite your lip in anticipation as you finally take initiative and pull him out of his confines, mouth dropping open at the look of him. Just as veiny as you thought with heavy, sagging balls to match. You’re drooling, licking your lips and staring up at him one last time before focusing your eyes on the leaking tip and enclosing your mouth around him.

He cradles the back of your head with one hand while the other pounds a fist against your not-so-high ceilings, a loud growl escaping his clenched teeth.

You bob your head quickly, dramatically gagging on him and its loud and messy but neither of you care. Soon, he’s fucking your mouth both hands interlocked on the back of your head while you do a mix of massaging his clothed thick thighs or raking your sharp nails down his pudgy tummy. Tears prick your eyes as you struggle to take him but you’ll take whatever he gives you even if it kills you.

You don’t even need to touch yourself as the juices flow out of you, streaming down your inner thighs. You’re humping the air, core contracting around nothing as his whines are the only thing fueling you to near your end.

“Fuuuck, I’m cumming.” He hisses, rapid final thrusts of his wide cock into your mouth. He holds you down, your nose embedded in his pubic hair and you taste his hot spunk shoot down your throat. Just from that, you cum untouched, the act of being used so filthily making it possible.

You’re limited in breathing as you inhale through your nose and your jaw hurts but it’s all worth it as your eyes roll back and you quiver as much as your body could under his hold.

He finally releases your head, pulling his cock out of your wet mouth with webs of saliva to follow as you gasp for air.

“Was I inspiring enough for you?” He asks cockily.

Your throat itches as you let out a low giggle. “You’re perfect.”

[ellieslaces]

KISSING LESSONS.

featuring: hazel callahan x fem!cheerleader!reader

synopsis: Hazel’s worst decision was to join her friend’s fight club, until she met you. or, really got to know you, she knew you, you just didn’t know her. she never thought a cheerleader, much less one of the prettiest girls in the school, would ever pay attention to her. until you did.

content warnings: harsh language; mentions of violence; internalized homophobia; light smut; kissing (wlw); so much loser lesbianism; some homophobic slang (faggot, munch)

notes: mentions of violence (duh, it’s lesbian fight club); mentions of reader being bisexual (more toward women tho); homophobic slang (faggot, munch, etc) ; there is no real smut in this as i do not write explicit content containing minors.

word count: 3.13k

chloe talks: watched bottoms and then hyperfixated on Hazel for two weeks before I decided to write this. God, I need her so bad. Chloe has a type doesn’t she? (soft mascs make me hhnngg). hazels so fucking cute I need her to kiss me ok bye. <3 (also, I hate the way this turned out, I’m so sorry it’s terrible)

now playing: kissing lessons ; lucy dacus

Fight Club — a popular 1990’s film, that’s all those two words had ever meant to you. You’d never even seen the film, you just knew it was fucking gay, despite it not actually being about the hot topic of homosexuality amongst young men (or women, in your case). But, I digress.

It had been your friends, Isabel and Brittany, who managed to get your ass to attend your school’s resident Fight Club. A women’s Fight Club. How fucking gay. Oh well, it would teach you how to defend yourself properly. Which, in this day and age — or any day and age of we’re honest — is horribly necessary.

It shouldn’t be, but knowing how to beat the shit out of a grown man is something you should know how to do. Self defense isn’t a topic to be taken lightly, and it seemed PJ and Josie knew this.

PJ and Josie — or faggot #1 and faggot #2 as the school knew more endearingly — where the school’s resident ‘ugly and untalented gays’, as Jeff and his little crew liked to say. Really, you suspected they were all just pissed because the girls knew their way around a pussy better than any of them did. They wouldn’t know the clit if it slapped them in the face.

It had been about two weeks into the girls’ club that Isabel and Britany attended for the first time. They showed up to cheer practice the following day with busted lips and bruised faces. At first, you hadn’t known what happened. Maybe Jeff’s dramatics had finally gotten the better of him. But no, they had willingly gotten beaten up for the sake of learning how to better throw a punch.

Finally, after hours upon hours of begging and pleading, Britany and Isabel got you to attend a meeting. You had walked in, nerves wrecking your body as you trailed unsurely behind the two girls you considered your best friends. You trusted them, they wouldn’t let something bad happen.

You had planned to spend your first meeting simply observing, but PJ tried so hard to convince you to join in. She almost even pushed you into the fucking ring. When you finally conceded, you were face to face with Hazel Callahan.

You knew of her, but you didn’t know her. You’d passed her a few times in the hall, you had a science class with her. Jeff said she was another one of those ‘loud mouth munches’ — to which you nearly punched him square in the nose had he not been Isabel’s boyfriend and a complete moron.

Hazel seemed nice, she’d smiled in your direction when you walked into the gym. It was a nice gesture, no matter the awkward air it held. You felt sort of bad for putting her in the situation she was in, even though it was PJ’s fault that she now had to fight you.

You stood awkwardly, fists raised in a defensive position, eyes on Hazel as she stood in front of you. She smiled again, still awkward as it had been when you walked in. You were set on not getting the shit beat out of you.

As soon as PJ’s whistle sounded, you barely gave Hazel a chance to move. She’d shifted on her feet, sending a spark of fear through you, causing you to send a punch straight to her face. You’d gasped, watching her face scrunch up as her own hands flew up to cup her nose.

“Oh my God, I’m so fucking sorry.” You cried, stepping forward, ignoring the claps and cheers falling obnoxiously from PJ’s lips.

Hazel let out a choked laugh, brows raised as she held her nose. “No uh, nice hit. Fuck, that was a good one.” She blinked rapidly, momentarily lowering her hands.

You let out a small squeak as you saw that her nose was indeed bleeding. “Shit, your nose.” You stepped forward again, trying to find something to stop the bleeding. But of course, there wasn’t anything you had on you.

“Alright, Hazel’s fine. Let’s move on.” PJ droned, giving her whistle another sharp blow — she really abused her whistle privileges, you thought as you ushered Hazel toward the bleachers.

Hazel gave a thumbs up — her hand covered in blood that dripped from her nose — as she walked toward the bleachers. No one seemed to notice other than you as you walked with her. You felt so bad, so terrible because now this girl was bleeding because of you.

“I’m sorry,” you weakly apologized again, sitting in front of her on the bleachers, looking frantically around for something to give her to stop the bleeding.

“It’s okay, I’m okay.” Hazel shook her head, trying to convince you she was fine. Even though you both knew she wasn’t.

“Uh fuck, there isn’t anything — don’t do that.” You’d cut yourself off quick, voice deadpanned.

Hazel paused, her head half leaning backward as she looked over in your direction. Her ringed fingers pinched the bridge of her nose — it seemed she’d had the idea to lean her head back to stop the bleeding.

“Lean your head forward, not backward. If you go backwards, the blood could go into your lungs. Go forward and let it drip out.” You instructed, pulling her hand down gently by her wrist, moving to take off your cardigan so she could hold it below her face to catch the blood as it dripped.

“How do you know that?” Hazel questioned, brows pulled in a frown as she leaned her face forward so the blood could freely drip from her nose onto the bundle of fabric in her hands.

“I had to get a certificate to be able to babysit.” You shrugged, moving the strands of hair from her face without thinking about it. When you’d realized what you’d done, you froze, dropping your hand in embarrassment, muttering a sad ‘sorry’ again.

Hazel shook her head, not responding verbally to your millionth apology. Your cheeks warmed, suddenly so embarrassed for an entirely different reason. Not just for punching Hazel square in the nose, but you’d managed to embarrass yourself by noticing just how pretty she was.

Hazel sat on the bottom row of the bleachers in the gym, watching the rest of the group fight each other in turns, different girls winning. Some had busted lips, others a myriad of bruises spattered across their faces.

You took the time to notice just how pretty Hazel was — a sharp jawline that would make Jeff jealous, brunette hair that mussed in just the right way and looked so goddamn soft, her nose that was long and straight save for the small bump in the bridge that made your throat constrict. God, she really was a sight. How hadn’t you noticed sooner?

Maybe it was the fact that Hazel wasn’t in your social circle. You were a cheerleader, friends with Isabel and Britany, the focus of stares. Hazel was a loser — in the kindest and most endearing way — someone who wasn’t popular. Someone who had hardly any friends. And despite the fact that today was maybe the third time in your entire life you’d ever spoken to her, you wanted to be one of her friends.

A quick, sharp quip of PJ’s whistle brought you back to the present, her loud voice announcing the day’s session was over. You blinked, looking away from Hazel. Who somehow didn’t seem to notice you’d just spent the past five or so minutes just studying her face.

She turned to you, eyes apologetic as she held out your crumpled cardigan in her hands. “It’s really bloody, sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. You can keep it,” you shook your head, holding out your hand. It was only after the words came out of your mouth that realized how stupid that sounded. “I mean, it’s just, you don’t have to give it back. I don’t like it that much anyways. And it’ll probably stain. That sounds bad, I’m sorry.”

Hazel smiled a little at your words that seemed to stumble out of your mouth. You regretted every single one of them. You moved to take the cardigan anyway, acting as if you hadn’t told her to just keep it. But she pulled it back.

“I’ll wash it.” She said simply, standing. There were specks and smears of dried blood on and below her nose. You felt another pang of guilt then, seeing that your punch would definitely cause a bruise across her nose.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” You shook your head, standing as well. Isabel and Britany stood a few feet away, clearly waiting for you to come over. You didn’t want to though, for some reason.

“It’s fine. I’ll see you at the next meeting right?” Hazel asked, not relenting and continuing to hold the cardigan in her hands as she started to back away.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so.” You shrugged, somewhat embarrassed. You didn’t really want to come back. Not since you’d punched Hazel and made her bleed on your first meeting. But, maybe this would be a good incentive to come back. To see her.

“Cool,” Hazel grinned, nodding in your direction before she walked toward where PJ and Josie stood. You remained sentient for a moment, hands folded in front of your lap as you watched Hazel.

“Jesus, you hit hard.” Isabel’s voice rang in your ears as she and Britany approached, the latter’s eyes wide as she looked at your hand.

“Might want to wash your hands,” the girl motioned to your dominant hand — the knuckles were spotted in blood from where you’d punched Hazel and blood had immediately started to pour from her nose.

Your eyes latched onto the specks of blood on your knuckles, brows creased as you stared. Bright, rusty red adorned the skin of your knuckles, bits of Hazel Callahan’s DNA there. It was strange, but it made you smile.

The attendance of the fight club had steadily grown — girls coming to the gym after school to brush up on their combat skills. All in preparation for the upcoming football game against Huntington. The fear ever since one girl had gotten attacked by one of the boys and word had gotten around about it.

So, attendance had spiked, the ‘female solidarity’ — as PJ liked to call it — had risen in the school, even the girls were kinder and nicer to one another. And your mind was muddled with constant pictures and thoughts of Hazel Callahan.

It was confusing — you’d never felt such a strong connection to someone you hardly knew. Hazel was as much a mystery to you as the rest of the ‘ugly, untalented gays’. Meaning she was a huge fucking mystery. Sure, you were vaguely aware that her parents had divorced, and that the girl mostly kept in the background in school. But other than that, Hazel was purely mysterious to you. And you found yourself wanting to know more.

To remedy thhs, you continued to attend fight club, naturally. Yes, you shared a class or two with the girl, but nowhere else did you have the chance to actually interact with her. To converse with her, hear her voice, see her smile. God, what a loser you were.

It wasn’t until two weeks later that you’d come to realize how disgustingly and embarrassingly obvious your infatuation with Hazel was. And what made it worse — it was PJ who brought it to your attention.

“Yo!” PJ’s obnoxious voice rang through the gym as you stood in the circle with the rest of the girls, watching Silvia and Brittany spar, your name on the girl’s lips as she spoke. “Quick eye-fucking Hazel and pay attention! Huntington is like, two weeks away.”

Your cheeks flamed a bright red as you sunk into yourself, shoulders curling in. God, you wanted a chance at PJ in that ring to strangle the fuck out of her for that. Your eyes quickly cut over to where Hazel stood — her own cheeks dusted with light pink as she avoided your gaze.

Great, now she probably wouldn’t talk to you at all. Fuck PJ and her obnoxious, loud mouth. Your embarrassment was not short lived as the fight club went on. You couldn’t look in Hazel’s direction at all as you waited out the meeting until its end so you could retreat with your tail between your legs and never show your face in this gym again.

It was as you shouldered your backpack, heart still racing, stomach still uneasy with embarrassment that you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You turned, eyes going wide as you were face to face with Hazel. Your eyes trailed down to a bundle of fabric in her hands.

“Sorry it took so long, but uh, I got the blood out.” She held out what turned out to be your cardigan. The cardigan that you’d leant her two weeks ago when you’d punched her too hard.

“Um, you didn’t have to do that.” You said, offering a sheepish smile as she held out the cardigan. You gingerly took it, eyes locked on Hazel’s face. As you grabbed it, you swore you could feel a spark when your fingers brushed against hers. A fucking spark — cliche but true.

It was silent between you two for a moment before Hazel shook her head, jutting her thumb over her shoulder. “Sorry about PJ. Things kind of come out of her mouth without her brain processing first.”

Yikes, Hazel meant the ‘eye-fucking’ comment. You offered a small, horribly obvious chuckle. “Yeah, I kinda noticed.”

There was another long stretch of silence between you and Hazel, your lips pulled to the side as you held the folded — she’d fucking folded it, Jesus she was adorable — cardigan in your hands. It was strange, but not too uncomfortable. Like that stupid thing from Pulp Fiction, the right person is someone that silence isn’t awkward with.

“I wasn’t eye-fucking you.” You blurted. Great, you made it awkward again. A small groan fell from your lips, head dropping as you closed your eyes with a frown. You shook your head. “Sorry, I dunno what’s wrong with me today.”

“PJ’s just jealous.” Hazel offered with a small laugh. How could one solidarity laugh sound so beautiful?

“Of what?” You asked gingerly, looking up to meet her eyes. For some reason, you were weary of her answer.

“That you aren’t giving her attention. Besides, I don’t think she’d know what to do with your attention anyway, you’re so pretty.” She said it not as an insult to PJ — or at least it didn’t sound like it — but more as an obvious fact. And you were stunned because Hazel had just called you pretty.

You were at a loss. A true loss. How the hell were you supposed to respond to that? So, like an idiot, you just stared at her blankly, eyes confused and wide.

Her own eyes went wide, brows furrowed as a worried look crossed her features. “Shit, was that too much? Too much. Fuck.” Her voice lowered as she cursed, brows knit together.

“No! Not too much, I just… I just didn’t think you thought I was pretty too.” You shrugged, quick to correct her. Quick to reassure that you were flattered and not weirded out.

“I mean yeah, of course I do.” Hazel nodded, her voice soft, words intentional like her statement was an obvious fact.

A smile spread across your face, cheeks warm again. You weren’t sure why, but you suddenly felt so much about Hazel. You’d never had a crush on a girl before. It was new and strange, but you definitely thought this was a crush.

“Thanks.” You whispered, eyes darting down to the cardigan in your hands for a moment before going back to looking up at Hazel. “For the compliment, and bringing back my cardigan. You didn’t have to wash it.”

“It’s fine, I wanted to. It’s a nice cardigan.” Hazel shrugged. It seemed she was at a loss for what to say around you too.

The gym was near empty by now — Josie and PJ chattering away in the far corner, and Isabel and Brittany waiting for you (but not paying attention to anyone but themselves) by the gym doors a few feet away.

So, due to the empty state of the gym and the disgustingly thick tension between you and Hazel, you stepped forward, pressing a quick and gentle kiss to her cheek.

This took the girl by surprise. Her eyes went wide as your lips pressed to her soft cheek. You leaned back, her brows creased as she watched you.

“Thanks,” you said again, with a shrug. Letting her know that was your way of thanking her. Small, but meaningful to you.

It was a long moment that you stood there, Hazel staring at you with wide eyes. For a couple of long seconds, you thought you’d fucked up. Misread the situation, mistook the tension for something else. But, you were proven wrong as she leaned forward, closing the distance between you by pressing her mouth to yours.

“You’re welcome.” She murmured as she leaned back, your eyes wide now from processing that Hazel had just kissed. That you’d just had your first girl-kiss. Fucking scary, but nice. You liked it. Liked her.

“I’ve never done that.” You whispered, blinking rapidly to ground yourself. “With, with a girl, I mean.” You corrected yourself almost instantly.

You’d kissed a guy or two before. Sadly, your first ever kiss was Tim at the ninth grade freshman dance. He was a bad kisser and you hated it. But, you liked how Hazel kissed. Despite it being a quick peck, it was full of intention and it was gentle too.

Hazel shrugged, a small half smile forming on her lips. “Maybe I can give you lessons.”

You grinned, laughing a little as you nodded, backing away toward the gym doors, needing to escape before you said anything else stupid. “Yeah, that’d be nice. I’ll send you my address.”

“Okay,” Hazel nodded, grinning widely to herself as you mentioned her coming over.

You almost skipped as you walked out of the gym, trailing behind Isabel and Brittany as the girls chittered away, the prospect that Hazel would be giving you fucking kissing lessons. You held the bundle of fabric close to your chest as you walked to your car. And it was then you noticed it smelled like Hazel. The detergent, obviously. But, there was something else that was just Hazel. And you never wanted it to go away. Maybe, you could wear it while she gave you kissing lessons that night.

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[companionhell]

I'm a slut for the 'overheard conversation' trope so like,,, romanced companions react to overhearing a nervous Sole as they're practicing their proposal speech? Bonus if Sole is ramble monologuing out loud they're worried it's not good enough for their amazing bf/gf. Just some nice fluff to make your day bright. ((Only if you want to of course. Love ur work, m8))

This ended up pretty long, so I put it under a read more. Enjoy! :)

Cait: Cait’s hearing wasn’t the best after years in the deafening Combat Zone, but Sole wasn’t exactly speaking quietly. So she listened in pretty damn easily-- who in god’s name was Sole talking to, anyway?

“Cait, darling,” Sole said, then paused. Cait strained to hear more, interested by the mention of her name, but the next few words were mumbled. The next she heard was the middle of a sentence: “--start over. Look, I know this isn’t… this maybe isn’t what you were expecting. I don’t know. This stuff is different, after the war. But I can’t think… shit, no, that’s bad.” Sole took a rattling breath, and Cait stepped closer over squeaky floorboards-- what was all this about? “You’re just… Cait, you’re everything to me, and I’m so in love with you, and I just… I wanna marry you.”

Sole jumped when Cait opened the door, looking her lover in the eyes. “You… you just said… you want to marry me? That’s… you really mean that?” Cait’s eyebrows were raised in absolute surprise, and when Sole nodded nervously, Cait broke into a genuine smile. “Never thought I’d be the marryin’ type,” she said, pulling Sole into a kiss. “But, if you really want it… I don’t think you know how much this means to me.”

Curie: Curie did have some manners programmed into her, but her intense desire to learn more about people in general (and Sole in particular) won out. She’d never understood talking to yourself, and she hoped to figure out more by listening in on Sole from the next room, thinking of it more as scientific observation than eavesdropping. It was quite a fascinating habit, after all!

But after only a minute or two, Curie quickly figured out what was going on. “Curie, my love. I don’t know… Okay, not that. Um, there’s a human tradition I’d like you to participate in. With me. It’s to show how much I love you, to promise I’ll stay with you forever… alright, that’s a little better.” Curie started smiling behind her hands, unable to contain the butterflies of excitement in her stomach. Ignoring Sole’s next mutterings about how she deserved a better speech, Curie made her way to their bedroom with a lovestruck expression.

“Oh, mon p’tit chou!” Curie exclaimed. Sole stood at the mirror, holding what looked like a pre-war ring, surprise and embarrassment filling their face as they realized that Curie had heard. She didn’t care that she’d flustered them, though, and clasped her hands to her chest. “Is it true, my love?” Once having received Sole’s affirmation, Curie pressed light kisses on their face in quick succession, speaking in between: “Oh, I love you. I feel my heart may burst- I never knew there could be such bliss.”

Danse: Danse wasn’t really consciously eavesdropping. The house’s walls were thin, and he was just drawing out possible modifications in the next room when he heard Sole talking to themselves. He didn’t think much of it at first- they talked in their sleep, after all. It was likely just another unthinking habit of theirs, so he barely processed their words while he concentrated.

“This needs to be good.. I can’t… ah, damn, I’m going to mess this up.” Danse heard the nervousness in Sole’s voice and momentarily forgot his work, eyebrows furrowing. “Alright. Recent events have been… uh, difficult. For all of us. And I know you’ve been taking time to sort everything out. I have been, too. I was just dropped into the apocalypse without my family, and since then, it’s mostly only gotten worse.” Danse put down the pen and stood, hesitating. He didn’t know what to do, but Sole spoke again. “But if there’s one part of this world I couldn’t live without, it’s… it’s you, Danse. You’re more important to me than words could say. I’m in love with you. And I’ve been thinking about it, and I want to marry you.”

Sole stopped talking, interrupted by loud footsteps rounding the corner and the door slamming open. Danse stood there, flustered and mouth agape, eyes surprised and confused. “Did you… Did you just say you want to marry me?” Sole, more shocked than embarrassed, repeated their proposal, and Danse moved to hold them close, arms wound snugly around the person who’d, months before, saved his life. “I… I can’t explain to you how much that means to me. It’s… a lot to think about, but… I can’t imagine facing the world without you.”

Deacon: Deacon knew something was up with Sole from the minute he heard them talking to themselves. He stepped silently to the end of the hallway, avoiding the squeaky floorboards whose locations he’d memorized, and stopped by the doorway. Deacon steadied his breathing, shifted the center of his weight, and listened.

“Deacon, I…” There was a deep exhale. Deacon’s heart jumped for a moment- had he been seen? But no, Sole continued. “I need to tell you that in this insane world, one of the first things I learned was not to trust anybody. But I can’t help but feel that you’re… different, I guess. Shit, I need another word… you’re… you make this big show about lying a lot, but you don’t bullshit about your beliefs. You don’t bullshit about how fucked-up all this is, and you don’t bullshit about where you came from, and that makes you more genuine than nine-tenths of the people here. I’ve fallen in love with you, Deacon, and I wanna marry you.”

Deacon couldn’t stop himself from inhaling sharply. He… he needed to go think about it. So he quietly made his way outside, lighting a cigarette and staring into the post-apocalyptic wilderness. And Deacon thought- he thought about Barbara, and about the love he’d been so happy to find in Sole, and about himself. Could he commit to moving on? Would Barbara have wanted him to? Did it matter? The next few days were more solemn for him than usual, as he made his decision. And he was glad he’d thought about it- glad that, when Sole finally got it together and proposed, he was able to finally say yes.

Gage: Gage wasn’t really the stealthy type. Looking for Sole, he checked every room in the house, finally walking to their shared bedroom. He didn’t even bother trying to muffle his steps, and considering the heavy-ass cage armor he wore, Gage was pretty damn loud. So when he saw that Sole hadn’t even noticed said clunking footsteps, and that they were so focused on muttering to themselves that they hadn’t turned around to see him, Gage had to listen in.

The first few seconds was just Sole swearing before sighing heavily. “Gage… It’s been a wild ride.” What the hell did that mean? Gage didn’t have time to think about it too much before Sole shook their head and moved on. “This world is fucking insane, and- I don’t think the people are more untrustworthy. I think they’re just more honest about it. Anyway, it was kinda a culture shock. But after wandering in the wasteland, I found my place. At Nuka-World. As leader of the raiders. Gage, I found my place with you.” His eyebrows shot up. Their relationship usually didn’t involve this kinda sappy shit- but this felt more important than usual. “I… I love you, Porter. And I know it’s not a raider ‘thing,’ but fuck it- I’m the Overboss, and I say what I want, so I wanna get married.”

“Damn, Sole,” Gage said, crossing his arms. Sole couldn’t ignore that one. They turned, clearly flustered at the interruption, and opened their mouth to speak- “Nah, gimme a minute, boss. Shit, Sole, that was somethin’ else. And… I guess marryin’ always seemed like bleeding heart bullshit to me, but… you are friggin’ amazing, boss, and if I’m stickin’ with anybody for life, ain’t nobody I’d rather be with than you.” He smiled, kind of sheepishly, and when Sole came over to embrace him, Gage held them tighter than he ever had before.

Hancock: Yeah, okay, Hancock was being kinda sneaky. But the ghoul had damn good ears (what was left of ‘em, anyways), and couldn’t help but try to listen when he heard muttering coming from the room he shared with Sole. So there he was, half-crouched in the hallway, straining to hear what his significant other was saying. This wouldn’t be as hard if Sole wasn’t speaking so damn quiet, anyway.

“John.” That was the first word Hancock heard, and he was already paying attention. Sole only called him that when they were being serious- a couple of near-death scenarios, a heartfelt conversation or two, maybe a few (or more) of their nights together. “My love, I know… commitment isn’t your thing. I understand. And I know you’re doing a lot more of that than usual for me-- I’ve seen you turning down hopefuls from Goodneighbor up to Far Harbor. But I just… I love you, John, and it would mean a lot…” A pause, and a heavy sigh. “Fuck it, I’m never gonna do this right.”

Hancock had inched close enough to the threshold to see Sole staring at their hands- was that a ring glinting in the light? His breath caught in his throat and before he knew it he was tip-toeing outside, somewhere open, somewhere else. He rummaged in his bag for something to take the edge off, but nothing seemed right-- Jet to slow the hell down or Mentats to think clearly? Hancock settled on both, and he sat there and thought for what felt like hours. From the minute he woke up from his radioactive dose he’d never expected anyone to wanna deal with him for much longer than a night or two. Sole was the wrench in that plan… and the best damn thing that’d ever happened to him. Oh, Hancock had made his decision when Sole was the first person he’d sincerely told he loved them since childhood. And when they finally got their act together and asked him, he might as well confirm it.

MacCready: MacCready was about to amble into the room, looking for a comic he’d misplaced- he was sure he’d last been reading it in bed- then heard Sole talking. He stopped instinctively, pausing at the door to listen. Was… anybody else in there with them? No, it seemed like the only one speaking was an increasingly frustrated Sole. MacCready debated with himself for a minute, then elected to stay there, leaning closer to the door to better hear.

“RJ, you gave me something a while back. Something that meant a lot to you.” Were they talking about the toy soldier? What the heck was going on? MacCready edged closer. Sole was sitting on the bed, turning something over in their hands. “It’s time for me to… No, that’s stupid. Um, I want to give something to you too. I love you, RJ. We’ve both lost a lot, but I think it’s best we look to the future. Together.” They slumped, muttering something about how they sounded like an idiot, and MacCready finally caught a glimpse of what they were holding. A ring. Identical to the one they always wore.

He felt tears burning his eyes. After Lucy, he thought he’d always be alone. And here came Sole, who’d not only saved his life and his son’s, but also made him happy for the first time in years. Not barely getting by, not ignoring his pain, but truly happy. “Hey, handsome/beautiful,” he said, crossing the threshold. He laughed at Sole’s shocked expression, and found himself unable to stop smiling. “I definitely don’t deserve someone as good as you, but… hey, if you wanna keep this little thing we have going forever, well, who am I to say no?”

Nick: Alright, Nick had a sneaky bone or two. You had to in his line of business. But he made a point of not going digging through Sole’s dirty laundry, so he tried his absolute hardest to be as not-nosy as possible when he heard them talking from the bedroom. But good god, were they talking for a long time. And loudly. He walked down the hallway, fully intending to alert Sole to his presence, mind you, but heard them say his name. He stopped. What on earth were they on about?

“Nick, I wanted… no.” Sole took a deep breath. “Nick. My love. You’re the best man in the Commonwealth, synth or not. You’re compassionate, and caring, and funny as hell. And I…” They paused, as if thinking. Nick watched from the doorway. Sole was looking into the mirror, staring at themself, and shook their head. “I’m not good enough for you. But… I love you, Nick. And I kinda want to stick together. ‘Long as I’m kicking, anyway. There doesn’t need to be any ceremony or anything if you don’t want to-–”

Nick didn’t hear anything after that. Ceremony? He retreated back down the hallway, as quietly as he came, and sat on the front stoop. Lit up a cigarette. Watched the sunset and the comings and goings of the neighbors. He thought for a long time, examining his reluctance to marry Sole-- the best thing that had happened to him in his decades wandering the Commonwealth. It wasn’t Jenny. God knows she’d have wanted him to move on years ago. And it wasn’t a lack of love. Sole was all an old bot could ask for– the luckiest day of his life was the day they crawled outta that cryo-pod. It had more to do with his disbelief that a stunner like Sole would want to be tied down to a run-down synth with a bum hand and a hole in his neck. He didn’t deserve them. But hey, it was their choice, he thought, looking up at the stars. He’d marry them, alright. And he’d follow wherever they led.

Piper: Piper grinned when she heard Blue mumbling in the bedroom. Their sleeptalking was always priceless. She grabbed a pad of paper from her pocket and slowly eased her way down the hallway, careful not to make too much noise. Sole was a light sleeper. Piper peeked around the door, her playfulness rapidly turning to confusion as she saw that Sole wasn’t asleep, after all. They were sitting on the bed, turned away from her, but still speaking softly. What the heck were they doing?

Sole looked deep in thought. “Maybe start out with… Piper, you’re hard on yourself. Hmm… no, that’s no good.” What? Piper was hard on herself? She leaned in closer to hear. She had good ears, but Blue was barely speaking audibly. Sole kept going. “I know you think of yourself as loud and pushy, but what I see is the kindest woman I’ve ever met. You’re confident, you’re honest, and you’re determined to do good in the world.” Sole looked down at something they held in their hands. “And I know the institution of marriage probably isn’t important to you– or to the Commonwealth, generally– but I thought I’d ask– no, that’s wrong…”

As Sole continued workshopping their phrasing, Piper’s jaw dropped. Marriage? She sidled into the bedroom, purposefully stepping loudly, and saw a glint of gold in Blue’s hands. “Blue!” she said too loudly, startling Sole, who nearly dropped the ring. “Oh, I, uh– Damn it, I’m sorry, Blue, I messed up your moment.” Piper came closer, cupping Sole’s face in her hands. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” She kissed their forehead, smiling at their still-shocked face as she pulled away. “My answer is yes. I will marry you, Blue.”

Preston: Preston definitely hadn’t meant to overhear anything. He’d woken up with his arms empty. Sole wasn’t there. Not too unusual– sometimes they got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. Still, it was hard to sleep without Sole next to him. Groggily, he lifted his head off the pillow and looked around. It was dark. No moonlight shone through the window. But under the bathroom door, there was a crack of light. And through the wall, he could swear he heard… mumbling?

Preston frowned. It had been about a year since they’d taken down the Institute– since Shaun had died. He couldn’t imagine that kind of pain. He’d woken up before to find them crying, silently, in his arms, and done his best to comfort them. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and rolled out of bed, crossing quietly to the bathroom door. Inside, he could hear Sole speaking. He paused for a second to listen. “Preston, I– I don’t think I can… no, that’s no good.” Preston furrowed his eyebrows, lifted his hand up to knock, but was interrupted when Sole started speaking again. “I can’t express in words how much I love you. You’re– you’re kind, and loving, and sweet, and– shit, I’m rambling. Um–”

Preston smiled, leaning on the door so it swung open. “What are you…” He trailed off as he saw what Sole was holding. A ring. The ring that matched the one they always wore. Tears pricked at his eyes. “Are you… planning to propose? …To me?” When Sole confirmed it, Preston beamed. He didn’t think he’d ever stop smiling. He pulled Sole into a hug, pressing kisses against their temples and their forehead. “God, I love you. Of course I’ll marry you– if you’ll have me.”

X6-88: X6 was... concerned. When he and Sole spent an evening at Sanctuary, they usually spent their free time tinkering with their weapons or armor. Or catching up with the settlers. But this time, they’d simply given him a kiss and retreated straight to the bedroom. After two hours of messing with mods for his laser pistol, it seemed clear that Sole wouldn’t be joining him anytime soon. So he quietly trod down the hall. As he approached the bedroom door, he could hear Sole speaking.

“Why am I doing this anyway?” X6 moved closer. Had he done something to upset them? Why not talk to him about it? “He’ll think it’s too sentimental... shit. Maybe I can-- um, alright. X6.” He started, thinking for a moment that Sole had discovered him in the hallway, but they continued talking. Practicing talking to him? “You’re determined, you’re loyal, you’re funny. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And-- and it would mean a lot to me if-- well, you might not care about this kind of thing, but...”

“What kind of thing?” X6 asked, stepping into the room. Sole whipped around to look at him, too surprised to hide what they’d been holding. A gold ring. A wedding ring. X6 took a moment. Sole was right, in a way. He’d keep watching their back until the day he died, and he had never thought of needing a ring or a ceremony to prove it. But... Sole was the person he most cared for in the world. Maybe the only person he cared for. And if wearing a ring was important to them? He would proudly wear his loyalty to them on his finger. It was no object.