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[operationladybug]

"In 2006, my father underwent heart surgery and then, with permanent treatment, he started to regain some of his routine. He continued to work to support our family. In 2021, tests showed that an artificial joint should be installed. The operation was successful. After that, he continued with chronic treatment, but he did not give up and continued to work so he could continue to support our family. After that, the war came. He suffered from horrible pain in his heart and his joints. He endured a year of lack of food and medicine until his condition deteriorated. He is now in the hospital, but he needs treatment that is not found in northern Gaza and the cost of treatment is very high. Please help us treat my father and continue to stay alive." - @heba-baker

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[foolishlovers]

Where a Canvas Blooms by foolishlovers

It’s an Arrangement. Aziraphale knows this. He knows a lot of things, and others he doesn’t, but the most important things, he knows. He knows that the cheeky redhead in his arms smiles and purrs when he runs his fingers through his hair, knows that Crowley’s hands are rough from working outside, knows the softness of his heart. Aziraphale doesn’t know he’s in love with Crowley until he does. But it’s just an Arrangement. Is it? Part 1 of The Cuddle Arrangement

word count: 3.8k rating: T relevant tags: Human AU, Trans Aziraphale, Trans Crowley, Touch-Starved Aziraphale, Touch-Starved Crowley, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Cuddling & Snuggling, Comfort, Pining art by the wonderful @omens-for-ophelia

[talaok]

Needy

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Summary: Joel needs his fix of you, and he doesn't care if it makes you late.

Warnings: smut| oral sex (f receiving) and coming untouched. Joel is a little more sub in this one and he's obsessed with eating you out.

a/n: guys, i have a confession to make, i do not know what this is, i wrote it tonight and boy i'm so tired that i'm honestly not really sure about what i typed, but i was in the mood and i like this thing of Joel tuesdays im doing so... hope you'll enjoy.

"you look gorgeous, baby"

It didn't take a genius.

The way he wrapped his arms around you, pressing his body to yours, the way he whispered in your ear, the way he didn't break eye contact, looking at you from the mirror as he kissed your neck...

Joel Miller might have been a hard man to understand many times, but not when it was about sex.

"Joel" you stopped him immediately, neglecting the shimmers of pleasure he had ignited inside of you from such a small gesture "We don't have time"

If he heard you, he didn't show it.

His kisses only grew hotter and lower down your neck.

"Baby I'm serious" you breathed, feeling one of his hands travel down your sides "We're gonna be late"

Even with a bad ear, he should have definitely heard that, but his only response was a low groan and an attempt to hike up your dress.

"Baby-"

"just a peek" he murmured, sending a shiver up your spine "Just wanna look at her"

Even if your natural response was to roll your eyes, hearing him so desperate was doing things to you.

"please" he breathed "I'll be quick"

And after a moment of silence, as you considered what he'd just said, you finally huffed out a "fine"

It's just one peek after all, what could go wrong?

He had turned you around and was on his knees before you had time to blink, and your dress was pulled up to your belly before you could take a breath.

You watched him as he held your waist like you were a long-lost treasure he'd just found, and as his eyes trained on your clothed core with so much hunger and lust to turn them completely black.

And then slowly, oh so slowly, his right hand came to help, removing that torturous piece of fabric obstructing his view of (as he referred to it) "the most perfect pussy on the planet" 

"fuck" he groaned, his pupils dilatating so much they were one with his iris.

You let out a small chuckle at his amazement

"There, you saw it, can we go no-" you tried to speak, but were quickly interrupted

"just a kiss" 

He didn't even sound like himself, but like he was in a trance.

"just one" he breathed, leaning closer

You sighed, before agreeing 

"one"

And he didn't even answer you, he just went straight to it, groaning loudly as he kissed you right on your clit.

"Joel..." your hand found his hair, as a shock of pleasure coursed through you.

"just another one" he murmured, not giving you time to protest before his lips were on your core again, this time forcing a whimper out of your mouth.

"baby-"

But another groan of his interrupted your train of thought

"fuck you taste so fucking good" his eyes glanced up at you "I could eat you for every meal"

"Joel we're gonna be la-"

"let me taste you a little better" he growled, "just a bit, ok?"

But again, before you had time to give him a half-hearted excuse, he'd dived in, taking your pussy in his mouth like it was his lifelong duty.

His tongue was now swirling over your bud, your hole, and along your slit, making you forget all about your plans and the people waiting for you at the restaurant.

"shit baby" you moaned "f-fuck"

His hold on your waist got tighter, and soon, you realized his definition of "a bit" was much different from yours, as he didn't look like he had any intention of stopping, and to be honest, you were more than happy about it.

His nose was rubbing against your mound, you could feel his mustache tickling your skin and the way his tongue was tasting and savoring all of you was making you ascend to another universe, one where you didn't fall for Joel Miller's stupid tricks every time for example.

"J-Joel" 

And usually, he was very talkative during sex, for being such a man of a few words he really loved to talk when he was inside of you, but not when his mouth was busy, never, when his mouth was busy.

Eating your pussy for him was like a drug, I’m not kidding, you'd never met any other man who loved giving head like Joel did, most mornings than not you'd wake with him between your legs and go to sleep the same way, and when he didn't get his fix... well, you ended up arriving late at the restaurant.

"oh my god" you moaned, gripping his locks with more strength as his lips closed on your clit, sucking it deliciously "Joel fuck I-"

And that's the other thing, not only was Joel obsessed with going down on you, he was also amazing at it. Sometimes you didn't even last a full minute.

"f-fuck baby I-"

And with one final stroke of his tongue, you were pushed over the edge and left wailing and crying as the orgasm took over your body.

He drank every single drop of your pleasure, not stopping to lick your pussy until you literally pulled him away by his head because you couldn't do it anymore.

"fuck" you exhaled, as your breathing tried to get back to normal.

He fixed your dress for you as he stood back up

"you're perfect" he murmured, a smile from ear to ear plastered on his face before he kissed you, letting you have a taste of yourself "fucking perfect"

You chuckled as you wrapped your arms behind his neck and kissed him again"We don't have time for me to take care of you too baby"

His lips pulled into a more shy smile now "yeah, that's not really necessary anyway"

You frowned, looking at him, before you let your eyes fall to his crotch.

A dark stain covered the front of his jeans.

"oh my god" you huffed out a laugh "go change"

"right away m'am" he nodded, giving you another quick kiss

"and wash your mouth a little bit"

And at that, he smirked 

"not a chance, sweetheart"

Your head tilted as you rolled your eyes at him.

"You, Joel Miller" you cocked an eyebrow as you looked into his hazel eyes"are a gross, gross perv"

A lazy smile pulled at his lips

"Only for you darlin'"

[justaz]

thinkin…………..arthur gets injured and is being treated by gaius and merlin but he’s awake and gets to see firsthand this competent and serious merlin that meets his gaze constantly and arthur notices the fear and terror in his eyes that he forces back to heal him. thinkin…….merlin being his nurse while he heals and not leaving his bedside in fear of infections settling in while he’s gone and loosing arthur in such a simple way. arthur constantly wakes to a hand carding thru his hair or caressing his cheeks. thinkin………….merlin holding arthur’s head in his lap as he spoon feeds him broth. gaius rolling his eyes and leaving the room bc he and merlin and arthur all know he can sit up and feed himself but merlin leaves his fingers on arthur’s pulse and breathes in sync with him while arthur stares up at him like he hung the moon and the stars and carries the air into his lungs and squeezes his heart to pump his blood.

[buckyalpine]

Thinking about authors who have my entire heart an soul in an absolutely unhealthy way cause they're so talented and I'm obsessed with their fics. I'm talking I read them multiple times a day over and over again even though some are years old. I'm talking : @navybrat817 @jobean12-blog @lovelybarnes @povlvr @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @pellucid-constellations @metalbuckaroo @sinner-as-saint @becca-e-barnes @dailyreverie @kinanabinks @dirtychocolatechai @ohtobeleah @dilemmaontwolegs @adrinktostopyourthirst @bucky-barnes-diaries @holylulusworld @bucksfucks @buckymylove @cadencejames87 @themotherofhorses @jessybarnes @wheredafandomat @imyourbratzdoll @buckybabesonly @pocolottie @myfictionaldreams @witchywithwhiskey @ellemj @bucks-babe @buck-buck-buckaroo @heytheredelulu @marvelouslizzie @notafunkiller @ofstarsandvibranium @thevillainswhore @skaye44 @subwaysurf45 @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @nickfowlerrr @redwing4life @thenhewaswrongaboutme @brook-e-lynns @vesearlee

I'm obsessed.

I love you.

In ways you'll never know.

[aftg4palestine]

Another absolutely stunning commission of Cat Andrew by @denjiipng !!

All commissions start at 10 USD!! and the money is donated directly to any verified Palestine charity of your choice by YOU!!! no middle man and you get a really beautiful piece of art, fan fiction, or fan edit !!!! we have so many talented creators to request from, check it out!!

[cherry-pop-elf]

Kiss it Better Pt:3

Curly x Reader

AN: I am just speechless. All this support is making me tear up. Like holy shit. Thank you. Don’t worry! When this finishes(god idk how it will I’m making up as I go since yall want more chapters) I’ll make sure to post it to AO3 for easier access! Just thank you again! And uh. Don’t forget I have a Kofi and Wishlist if you wanna like tip or something. NO PRESSURE! Just a reminder to anyone who WANTS and CAN! You come first! Just. Thank you again!

SUM: You couldn’t sleep, so you try and remember things with Curly to lull you to sleep. As you do, you remember things that are important for a captain to have. Very important, and you are gonna be certain to find them

Warnings: Jimmy, sexual assault, mentions of abortion (it’s a rather calm chapter really. Take it as a pallet cleanser because the next chapter imma really show you how fucked up Jimmy is))

You just couldn’t sleep. It felt criminal to right now. So much was going through your head. So much has happened and now you had time to let it all soak in. The crash, Anya, why there was a crash, Curly’s condition, it made sleep impossible. Especially alone in that big bed that was meant for you and your husband.

You tried to take in deep breaths, and just let the thoughts wash over you. There was responsibility as the Captains Spouse. You weren’t just ‘eye candy’ like Jimmy said. You had worth, and were just as much important to the team as everyone else.

Such as learning a thing or two about what Captain should do in case of an emergency.

Curly was in no state to help, and Jimmy sure as fuck won’t help either. He was the reason everyone crashed after all. He’s a loose cannon and you needed to tip toe around him. Who knows what he might do next. You weren’t even sure if telling Swansea and Daisuke about what’s going on was smart.

Swansea has little girls of his own after all. He won’t react well at all. Then there’s Daisuke. Barely nineteen and thrown into this mess. He might panic or maybe even do something crazy like confront Jimmy. There was just to many what ifs.

So you were left on your own.

You would wrap yourself up in what was once Curly’s sleep robe and grab his spare ID card. The very thing that can unlock any door, and be the one thing that can lock your bedroom door. Definitely should have Anya sleep in here for a while. She deserves to be able to sleep soundly.

While you were waiting for everyone to sleep as well you would explore the bedroom. Looking into nook and cranny to see if there was anything of use. The Captains always were given a bunch of extra shit after all. Even Pony Express had to meet some safety protocols. Curly was their best after all. Even went as far as to try and help him fine work else where. That’s what he explained to you.

Shame. Was just a normal bedroom. The only thing that made it special was it was bigger, and had a lock. Dammit all to hell.

That’s when you tried to think back on past memories of you and your husband. To try and recall any kind of special thing the ships carry. Oh how you felt so guilty for never paying enough attention. Made you feel stupid and useless, but you weren’t.

At least not in comparison to Jimmy.

With a deep breath, you managed to recall something. Something not long before the crash even. You had knocked on the cockpit door to enter it, and was greeted to your husband and Jimmy working. Curly was rambling on about something, while Jimmy kept eyeing the locker suspiciously. As if he wanted to get inside of it for some reason.

That’s your best lead now. God dammit was it a shitty one. The cockpit was stuffed to the brim with foam. But then again that’s the front of the cockpit. If you were careful, and cut the right spot, maybe you can access the locker.

It’s something. Something is better than nothing.

With the robe tossed aside, a change into your jump suit, gloves slipped on, and beanie pulled on to keep your head safe you would make your way to the kitchen. Card key tucked securely inside of your jumpsuit compared to a pocket.

Jimmy can’t know.

Can’t know that you were stealing the only knife that the ship had.

Was going to be a pain in the ass to cut that foam but you really had nothing better to do. So, you unlocked the cock pit and focused on remembering its layout.

“For Anya, for Curly, for Swansea, for Daisuke, and all our families back home.”

You would start the slow and agonizing cutting. Little by little. Just chopping away to try and reach the right side of the pit. To get to that locker and see what was inside. That locker was in the cockpit for a reason. It can only be accessed by the pilots for a reason. There was a reason.

Any time you felt like your arms would give out you thought back to Curly. How he didn’t really have arms anymore to begin with. How Anya was busy throwing up right now. How they needed you. They both needed you.

It had been well over a hour, but you managed to reach the locker. You allowed yourself a breather at the sight of it. Damn was that a pain, but it’ll be worth it. Right?

With your breather over you would use the key card to access the locker. Inside was….Honestly junk. That had you very disappointed. You were honestly ready to cry out of frustration, only to see there were a few locked cabinets inside.

Ones that needed codes.

Codes you knew.

Curly made you memorize them in case of an emergency. He just said to memorize them. That it’s meant to just unlock pin pads. That Pony Express never bothered to change them.

You went to the lower locker and typed it in.

Strange, there was nothing inside. Suppose whatever was inside was taken out. You wondered what could have been in there. Was a very small locker so maybe it was some code scanner or universal unlocking device. Just wasn’t big enough for something you hoped for.

A transmitter.

He prayed it was near the front of the ship. That a transmitter would stuck in the heart of the foam, or as far as just shatter on contact. They had to have a spare communicator. Pony Express had to follow SOME rules after all. Imagine the ship being discovered and the people who found it saw it was missing something as important as that.

So you typed in the code for the larger locker. You were kinda afraid of opening it. To be met with another empty void of metal and dust.

You took a deep breath, and opened.

There really was a god.

There was what you were looking for. A real deal communicator. It was real, it looked untouched and even had dust on it to show that Jimmy never reached it.

Before you grabbed it you made sure to close the door behind you. Just to be sure. Was the dead of night, well from what the clocks say, and everyone should be asleep. Even Jimmy had to sleep. You had to make you move now.

Remain calm, and focus.

You can’t fuck this up.

You snuggled yourself into the corner of the pit, with the communication device in your lap. You hooked the head phones onto your head, and turned it on.

As you waited for it to boot up you made sure you were positioned so that if anyone came through the door, for some reason, you’ll notice. As far as anyone was aware though this room was basically a wall. No purpose to enter. You should be safe, but you had to think ahead. Jimmy was unpredictable, and so full of himself.

Better to be over prepared than see what happens if Jimmy finds out what you are doing.

Couldn’t help but give a squeak of surprise when someone finally spoke to you.

“This is the Emergency Spaceship Retrieval Sector. What seems to be the problem?”

A woman, through the static, spoke to you. Tears of relief fell down your face but you forced yourself to remain focused. You can’t mess this up now. No way no how.

“This is Tulpar for Pony Express. We have suffered a crash about a month ago. From what I can recall we had been a little over four months into our twelve month journey-“ You immediately explained, as to best help them get an estimation on how far the ship had traveled.

“Alright, who may I be speaking to at this moment?”

Deep breaths.

“I am the Spouse to Captain Curly. It is me, Jimmy the co-pilot, Anya the nurse, Swansea the mechanic, and Daisuke our intern.” Deep breaths, keep things quick and to the point.

“Are you all in any immediate danger?”

You had to think about that a moment. Jimmy is a dangerous man. Who knows what he might do next if you don’t play along. So, you had to be honest. You felt guilty for telling the operator what happened. That Curly suffered greatly and needed immediate medical attention, how Anya was a victim of assault and required an abortion as soon as possible, and that the reason for it all was because of Jimmy. He crashed the ship, he raped Anya, he destroyed Curly, and god knows what he will do next.

“Estimated arrival time will be about a month. We have your exact location thanks to the communicator. Remain calm, and know that help is on the way. We have logged this down in the report. Take care of your crew the best you can, Captain.”

And she would log off. You would let your head thump back, and simply cried. Cried in pure relief and joy. That a real person heard you, and was aware of what’s going on. That if anything did go wrong that at least someone knows. Someone will know what happened.

There was hope.

Now was a matter of survival.

One month.

You all needed to survive one month.

One Month Until Rescue…

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Tag List

@dinkyzoop @danart501 @spudfromspace @niyamamiya

[diezmil10000]

i'm replaying fe3h :) have some dorogrid

[clovariia]

we can finally post our pieces for @huntlowfanzine!!! this project was so much fun. i was the beta reader mod, i wrote a fic, and i drew spot art for several people's fics/poems. thank you SO MUCH to @skeptical-rainbows for drawing such beautiful spot art for my fic!!! 💚💛

🔗 https://archiveofourown.org/works/59088022

you can see more of the spot art doodles i made for other people's fics and poems below the cut.

thank you to the many authors who allowed me to work with them! i'm so glad i got the opportunity to beta read and draw art for so many fics. :)

[eloquent-edits]

🗡️ It takes more than three words…

to say I love you in the ways you deserve 🗡️ words of affirmation prompts

“I can see that you care for them, even if you don’t say it directly. It’s in everything you do.”

“You deserve to relax.”

“That top complements your eyes really well!”

“Hey, you tried your best on that project. It may have fallen apart in the end—but you tried. That’s what matters.”

“I really admire how you stood up for them. That takes a lot of courage.”

“You make people feel safe. Like they can be themselves without judgment… at least that’s how I feel around you.”

“You’re looking less like you got dragged out of hell every day!” (“Thanks?” “Going to hell and back doesn’t mean you got any less attractive.”)

“I don’t think you were in the wrong. Now I’m not saying you were right, but you made a good point and I think they should consider that.”

“It’s okay to be just okay. I’m here for you no matter what.”

“We adore you! We want you around! You’re our friend, why wouldn’t we want to hang out with you?”

“You are worthy of love and friends and respect.”

“Keep going, you’re doing great!”

“Woah, that was sick. Can you teach me how to do that?”

“You look healthier, you really do.”

“I would be nervous too in your shoes. But you’d be telling me that I got this, so I’m telling you: You got this.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“I really care about you and want you to become the best version of yourself, whoever that may be.”

“Regardless of your gender, you’ll still be allowed in the treehouse.” (this came from a really funny and reassuring conversation with a friend LOL)

“I trust that you won’t hurt me.”

“You’re a really wonderful person. The world would be a better place with more people like you.”

[syd-djarin]

flesh for fantasy

no outbreak AU!joel miller x f!reader

summary: Joel puts on a pair of pretty panties for you.

tags: SMUT, panty kink - joel wears them, no outbreak AU, a hint of nervous joel, they’re in love/established relationship, both of them are kinda switches but it's not super dom/subby just a hint in this (i think), unprotected piv sex which means we're getting creampied!!!!, cowgirl position, the panties STAY on, gratuitous use of daddy, teasing, praise kink (is it a syd fic without it?), oral m! receiving thru the panties, use of pet names

a/n: this one goes out to all my babygirls @katiexpunk, @studioghibelli, @joelmillerisapunk, @tightjeansjavi for letting me scream, pitch filthy ideas and matching my freak <3!!

i recommend (not required!!) listening to the song I titled the fic (: Flesh for Fantasy / Billy Idol

MDNI & reblog banners by @cafekitsune

lastly: resources for Palestine

“You ready, darlin’?” Joel asks from behind the bathroom door, voice gruff with a nervous arousal; the kind you get when experimenting or acting out a fantasy with a partner. Which is precisely what you and Joel are doing right now. 

“Let me see you, pretty boy,” you purr back, sitting on the edge of your shared bed. A warm, tingly sensation thrums throughout your entire body, skin hot enough to ignite a fire. 

Joel steps into view, and you’re sure you’ve never seen anything more glorious: your Joel, all brawn, golden skin, perfectly scruffy in all the right places, dressed in the prettiest, satin panties with dainty lace hems. The soft material accentuates his toned thighs and his gorgeous cock is bulging out at the seams. His entire body is flushed and you can feel the heat radiating off him from where you are seated feet away.

“Do I,” he clears his throat, “uh… look okay?” He gestures down at himself, fingers twitching by sides, as he shifts uneasily from one foot to the other—classic signs of Joel’s insecurity.

You realize you haven’t moved or spoken since he walked into the room; mesmerized and in a trance of ferocity. He’s the most gorgeous man you’ve had the pleasure of laying eyes on. You stand and saunter over to him, only slightly amused by his shyness– a rare display from your confident man. You gently tug his arms from their defensive stance across his chest and let them fall to his sides. 

“I don’t think I’m quite what you had in mind, but I hope it still tickles your peach,” he says, his voice a low murmur. His eyes linger on the gentle caresses of your hands as they travel up and down his arms, over his chest, and across the soft belly you adore. Goosebumps rise on his skin with each loving touch, magnetizing the air around you both. He knows his body is not what it used to be, and despite your insistence that he keeps getting hotter with age and that his soft edges from “being loved and cared for” suit him, he’s having difficulty believing you. 

This is the most vulnerable he’s ever felt with you, even though you’ve seen him naked countless times and he’s split open his soul for you, and only you. You sense his insecurity, of course. It's not hard to spot on your confident, competent man; you’re the only one his poker face doesn’t work on. 

“Joel, my love, you are a vision,” you say softly, your voice sultry and lust laden. 

He fights the urge to scoff, but then he finally has the courage to look you in the eyes and he starts to believe your words when he sees your pupils fully dilated, almost eclipsing your irises. You ghost your hand over his tummy to where he’s rock hard and straining against the panties, which is all it takes for his girthy tip to leak. You moan when you see the little damp spot forming on the delicate material. It turns your brain into that of a Neanderthal’s; primitive, primal, feral. Joel knows it too. 

You sink down to your knees and admire the view of him towering above you, eyes now level with his crotch. You salivate instantly when you get this close to his cock – you’re no better than one of Pavlov’s dogs. Joel senses the shift; the hesitancy in his eyes vanishes, replaced by a newfound boldness.

You run your palms up and down his gorgeous thighs, relishing the way the soft hair covering the toned muscle feels against your skin. You lean forward to plant a kiss over the panties before Joel restrains you with a hand to the back of your neck. Just as you’re about to ask what gives, he cuts you off. 

“Did you ask if you could touch daddy’s cock?” he hisses. 

You and Joel playfully vie for control, each of you taking turns embracing a bratty demeanor—it’s an exhilarating dance of dominance between you two. You never want the game to end. 

“Can I play with your cock, daddy? Pretty please?” you plead in your sweetest tone, knowing Joel gets off on it, and most of all, he can’t resist it. 

“Go on baby, show your daddy how much you like him all dressed up for you,” he rasps out, encouraging, granting you the permission you have anyway. 

“So, so pretty daddy,” you whine, and place a kiss right where his head is pressing against the fabric. He relaxes the grip on your neck, knowing it's only a matter of time before he’s putty in your hands. 

You trace the wet spot with the tip of your tongue and find his head again, gently sucking through the fabric. Joel whimpers, the sound sweeter than any music, the sound that makes you beam with pride - knowing you can make your Joel fall apart the way you fall apart for him. 

“Fuuuuuuck,” he groans, fighting his instinctual reaction for his head to fall backwards. 

You trace his length to meet his balls, heavy and prominent against the thin material. Looking up through your lashes you glide your flattened tongue over each one, earning the prettiest of throaty whimpers from him. You go to suck one through the panties and he gently squeezes your shoulder. 

“Alright, baby, enough, gonna make me cream my panties for once,” he rasps, tugging you up from your kneeling position. Grateful for his hands anchoring you firmly by the waist; you’re reeling from the spectacle of your man in such a dainty piece of clothing.

Now face to face, you take in his appearance, equally spent, nearly fucked out already: breathless, with hazy sable eyes and sweat glistening near his hairline.

He leans against the headboard and pats his thigh, inviting you to join him. You comply, crawling up his body and hovering over his crotch before settling on his thighs. Realizing that you haven’t kissed him yet, not on the lips anyway, and seeing the same realization flash across his face, he angles his head to draw you into a tender kiss. His plush lips are heaven; making you safe, exhilarated, grounded, ravished — all at once. You lose yourself in the taste of his lips, the taste of him, your hips moving instinctively, seeking more contact, always wanting more, more, more. But his strong hands find your waist, gently but firmly halting your motions.

“Let’s get these off, pretty girl,” he says, while playfully snapping the waistband against your skin. You hastily crawl off him, you hold his gaze steady while slipping the fabric down your legs and carelessly toss them aside. While resuming position, you take in the reality of you being bare, and Joel still clad in his panties, and it causes your cunt to throb, fresh slick dripping from you. 

“Tha’s better,” he grunts, ghosting his finger through your soaked core, you both moan in unison at the contact – you’ve never been wetter. Joel knows it too. 

“This all for your daddy?” he asks, teases even, collecting more arousal on his fingertip, “she’s drooling all over me, baby, making such a mess.”

“Mhm-hmm,” you whine in desperation, and attempt to grind against him once more; desperate for relief from the profound ache in your pussy. He lands a slap on your ass, just enough to sting and leave your skin tingling, your body jolts forward on impact. You know he’s not satisfied with your blasé response. 

“You like me in these panties, don’t ya baby? Is that why your slutty little pussy’s soaked, hmm?” He teases, squeezing the soft flesh he just spanked. 

“Yeah,” you whine, “so fucking sexy, Daddy.” 

“Show me,” he says, his voice caught somewhere in between a growl and a whimper. “Show me how much you love your daddy by coming for me just like this,” he instructs, sliding your core against his panty covered cock. Clutching his shoulders to keep your balance, you roll and buck your hips in fervor, your clit rubbing against the silken material over his cock has you racing towards your climax faster than you anticipated.

“That’s it honey, make a mess of these panties, show me what a good girl you are,” he babbles, goading you on. 

“Then you can ride me with ‘em still on,” he encourages. A few more desperate rocks into his lap and you’re coming, crying out expletives mixed with chants of Joel. You cling to Joel’s broad frame, burying your face in the curve of his neck as you ride out the intensity. His hands draw soothing circles on your lower back, grounding you as you gently return to reality. He plans tender kisses on your temple, head, and any place his lips can find, grounding you with each touch.The tender affection makes your heart squeeze inside your chest, a warm ache flares there. 

With a surge of renewed desire, you capture his lips once more, gently sucking on his plush bottom lip and lightly tugging it between your teeth. Joel’s resolve begins to crumble – he’s maintained control, played your little game, but now he’s yearning to be buried in your warmth. He caresses your cheek and jaw, lingering for a moment before pulling back slightly. 

“Need you, baby,” he rasps, breaths quick and shallow, his way of telling you to take the lead, baby. It feels like you can almost see his heart pounding against his ribcage, reminiscent of a cartoon character’s exaggerated beat. His expression is one of sheer desperation, and it nearly melts you on the spot.

You slide your hand between your bodies, reaching for him with a teasing touch, but you pause, stopping just short of freeing him from the silk. 

“Tell me how bad you need me daddy…” you trail off, ghosting a finger on the hem, moving your lips into a pathetic fake pout, one you know that Joel is unable to resist. But deep down, you love knowing that he needs you just as badly. 

“So bad, need to be inside that sweet pussy,” he pleads, voice strained as if it’s paining him to not be inside you. It is. “Hmm, I think you can do better than that,” you reply, emphasizing your words with another roll of your hips, earning a hiss from him.

“Baby, please..” he pleads. You tug the hair at the nape of his neck, he whines and you feel the twitch of his cock beneath you. “Need your pussy so bad, baby, been achin’ for it… need to be inside you baby, pleasepleaseplease–” he babbles. 

“You beg so sweet, daddy,” you coo, humming in approval when you finally free his cock from the prized garment of the evening and find it dribbling at the tip. 

You put him out of his misery, and yours, and sink down onto his length, your forehead pressed against his. You moan into each other’s mouth, almost in unison. The built up tension, the waiting, the toying, has you clenching around him - feeling completely and utterly ravished. 

“Fuck, can’t keep squeezing me like that sweetheart, I won’t last,” he groans. You relax your body, allowing you and Joel to catch your breaths. 

“Am I good to move, baby?” You whisper, your mouth just an inch apart from his. 

“Yes, fuck,” he cries out. 

You hook one arm behind his neck, holding him close and hanging on for the ride. You bury your face where his neck meets his shoulders, exhilarated from his warmth, his sweet and woodsy musk invades your senses.  Joel meets your movements, bucking his hips up, up, up making you cry each time his tip grazes your cervix. 

“You close baby?” He grunts out one rushed exhale, breathless from exertion and the heavenly solace that is your pussy, creaming just for him. 

“Yeah, come with me,” you huff, “please daddy.”

He thrusts up once.

Twice. 

On the third you’re clenching and pulsating around him while he’s emptying all his cum inside you, all for you, just for you.

You’d momentarily forgotten all about the silky number that catalyzed tonight’s events – then you go to dismount and find the pretty material ruined from your combined spend. A hearty laugh bubbles from you and your Joel joins in, blissed out, enraptured and dazed. 

“Guess we need to get you a new pair,” you joke. 

“Matching his and hers?” He jokes back, but the way his eyebrows raise in intrigue say otherwise. 

A week later, you’re in bed, online panties shopping while Joel’s showering. You grin to yourself at your plan: surprise Joel with matching panties. 

Your mouth hangs open when you see that a matching pair has already been added to the cart, undoubtedly added by your Joel. 

@pedrostories

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part eight; final)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)(part six)(part seven) (ao3 link)

It was an “if” if Eddie would actually be discharged today, but now, after some more poking and prodding, he's finally on his way home with prescriptions for pain meds and physical therapy. 

Wayne helps him up the three creaky, beautifully familiar stairs into the trailer, and Eddie collapses onto the old, beautifully familiar couch the second he gets inside. The weary groan he lets out is only slightly over-dramatized. “I feel like an 80 year old man,” he complains, entire body sore and aching to the bone already. “Now I know how you feel.”

“Oi, I ain't that old,” Wayne protests. When Eddie snorts derisively, Wayne rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Alright, fine, so we both got creaky knees now. You, at least, will be young and spry again in no time, though,” his uncle tells him. “Just get some rest, old man.” 

Eddie heaves a great big sigh, takes another breath to steel himself, and then does just the opposite of that. 

“What did I just say?” Wayne mutters as Eddie moves to stand again. 

“I said I’d call Steve,” Eddie says. Steve had to go to work, but he'd told Eddie that morning to call him if he ended up making it home today. “I’ll dip out of work and come hang out, help you settle in, if you want,” Steve had said. 

Wayne offers, “I can call him for you.” 

“No, no, I got it,” Eddie insists, words broken by a grunt as he hauls himself back to his feet. “I can make it to the phone, Wayne, I'm not a complete invalid.”

“Alright.” Wayne raises his hands in defeat and backs off. He’s never been one to hover. “You just shout if you need me.” 

Eddie limps - slowly, painfully, with difficulty - to the phone on the wall by the tiny dining table they never use, the surface littered instead with unopened mail and haphazard papers scribbled with notes and reminders and important phone numbers. He leans heavily against the table as he paws through the piles trying to find a note of Steve's number. Eddie finds it buried deep, probably long since memorized by now before his memory got erased, but there it is: a notepad paper with Steve's name scrawled on it and two phone numbers written underneath, home and work. 

“Bingo.” Eddie grabs the paper, takes the phone off the hook, and dials the work number. 

The phone rings a couple times, and then: “Family Video. How can I help you?” 

“Hey, Stevie.” Eddie smiles at the sound of his voice, as if he hadn't literally just heard it only a few hours ago. 

“Eddie!” Steve's bored customer service voice brightens. “Are you home? How are you feeling?” 

“Yeah, I’m home. I’m alright. I mean, I’m bone-fucking-tired and feel about a million years old, but it's really really good to be back,” Eddie says honestly. He adds, “I’m under strict orders to rest, though - gonna be bored out of my mind, so I could use the company if you were serious about ditching work for me.” 

“Of course I was serious,” replies Steve. “It's a slow day today anyways.” 

Eddie grins. “Get your sweet ass over here then.” 

A smile is evident in Steve's voice too. “I'll be there in ten.” 

Eddie hangs up, tries his best to wipe this stupid lovesick grin off his face. He stumbles his way down the hall to his room next, flicking on some music from the cassette player on his dresser and looking around. His room is just as beautifully familiar as the rest of the trailer, not much changed from the way he last remembers it. The same music and D&D shit clutter his surfaces, the same posters clutter his walls. His bed is unmade, clothes litter the floor, same as always.

The only differences: his beloved electric guitar no longer hangs on the wall by the mirror (he was told, devastatingly, that she hadn't survived her trip to the Upside Down), and there are photographs he doesn't recognize taped up around the corners of that mirror. Eddie staggers over to get a closer look, only to first be momentarily jumpscared by his own reflection. His face is pale, eyes sunken, and his hair frizzes out in a greasy, tangled mess around his head, unwashed and unbrushed for who knows how long. Gross, but whatever. He manages to ignore his sickly appearance and inspects the pictures he had apparently deemed important enough to stick to the edges of his mirror. 

There are photos of Eddie smiling with Hellfire and his band and the kids, in large groups and small groups, with old friends he remembers and newer ones he doesn't quite. But what catches his attention the most is a photobooth strip of him and Steve. The first picture shows the two of them grinning, arms slung around each other’s shoulders; the second, a silly face photo, Eddie sticking out his tongue and Steve crossing his eyes; the third, Eddie giving Steve devil horns while Steve laughs; and the fourth- 

Eddie plucks the strip off the mirror, stumbles, so taken aback he trips over his own lame feet until he plops down heavily onto his bed, and he stares. He stares at the last image in the row, which depicts - clear as day and undeniably real, immortalized in ink on photo paper - Steve kissing Eddie, tender hand on his cheek, both of them smiling against each other’s lips.

He stares and he stares and he stares. And the longer he stares the more he can almost feel it, taste it, see the events of that photo strip playing out in his mind’s eye like a waking dream. Like a memory. 

~ 

Steve pulls up to the trailer, the one with the metal music blaring from somewhere inside that announces to the whole park that Eddie Munson is back home. He smiles at the sound, gets out of his car and bounds toward it. 

It's Wayne who lets him in when Steve knocks on the door. “He's in his room,” the older man tells him as he steps aside to let Steve in. “Make sure he's stayin’ off his feet, will you? ‘Cause lord knows he won't listen to me.” 

“Yeah, I got it,” Steve says, and his tone and his smile say I got him. Wayne nods. 

Steve makes his way down the hall to Eddie’s room. He raps his knuckles against the door first, but he doubts that can even be heard over the music so he pushes it open without waiting for a response. “Hey, Ed-” Steve starts, only to falter when he sees Eddie sitting statue-still on the edge of his bed, eyes boring holes into a photo strip of the two of them together. “Oh.” 

Eddie blinks, expression unreadable as he looks up and over at Steve. “Why didn't you tell me?” 

“I-” Steve doesn't know what to say, what he should say. His veins buzz with a nauseating mix of hope and anxiety and it's making him feel a bit sick. He takes a deep breath, turns down the music so he can think. “I wanted to. I just- I thought it would freak you out. You didn't know me. I didn't want to force anything on you.” 

“So…we were together,” Eddie says slowly. “For how long?” 

“Since July.” Steve’s desperately searching Eddie’s face for something, anything, to clue him in to what Eddie’s thinking or feeling right now. “Are- are you freaked out? Because you look a little freaked out.” 

“I’m not freaked out,” Eddie says, and it's almost convincing. “I'm just…processing.” 

“Oh-kay…” Steve breathes out, leaning cautiously against the doorframe, still hovering by the exit just in case Eddie decides he doesn't want him there anymore once he's finished processing.

“I’ve, uh-” Eddie looks back down at the photo strip he holds in his hands and takes a breath. “I’ve been remembering some things, you know, little things - in dreams - about us. But I- I thought I just had a crush or something, because I thought if all of that was real, if we had really been that happy - that…in love - then you would've said something. You would've told me.” 

When Eddie's eyes meet his again, Steve realizes he'd misread his expression before. Eddie's not freaked, he's upset, hurt, not because of what he's learned but because it was kept from him. Of all the worst-case scenarios Steve's spiraling mind had come up with over the past couple weeks, he had not considered this one. So preoccupied with his own angst over being forgotten and fear of being unwanted, Steve hadn't thought to consider that him hiding the true nature of their past might make Eddie feel unwanted too. That's the last thing Steve wants; the ache of that trumps any other ache he feels. 

“Eddie, I’m sorry. I just- you didn't know me, and I panicked; I didn't think, or-or I thought too much, but I should've just told you.” Steve pushes off from the doorway and goes to sit beside Eddie, because he can't stand Eddie looking at him with those big doe eyes and not being close to him. He leaves a bit of space, barely holds himself back from taking hold of Eddie's hand. “Because it was real, all the things you've been remembering. It was real- it is real, and I’m so sorry I didn't tell you.” 

Eddie is uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. His gaze flicks him up and down and across his face, and then Eddie grabs him, hands dropping the photo strip to instead clutch at Steve's cheek and jaw as he pulls him in and kisses him. As their lips slide together, familiar, the both of them sigh into the kiss. Steve feels a bursting in his heart, so similar to the way it felt the very first time they’d done this: the giddiness of reciprocation, the intuition that this is right. 

When Eddie pulls back after a few long moments, something is changed, something returned. Steve watches Eddie’s eyes flutter open; and when they do, for the first time since he'd woken up in that hospital bed, Eddie sees him, knows him, loves him. 

“How could I ever have forgotten that?” Eddie says, almost whispered, running his thumb across Steve's cheekbone. “How could I ever have forgotten you?” 

Steve could cry. Tears made of relief and joy blur his vision, because Eddie is looking at him with all the tenderness he'd been missing these past weeks, the painful emptiness of before now filled. It's all back. His Eddie is back. Steve pitches forward and hugs him bodily. Eddie returns the embrace; Steve sinks into his arms and it feels like coming home. 

He closes his misty eyes, buries his face in the crook of Eddie's neck and the tangles of his hair, and he breathes him in, clinging onto him like Eddie might just disappear if Steve ever let go. Eddie holds him just as close, one arm wrapped firm around Steve's waist while his other hand cradles the back of Steve's head and strokes his hair. Steve soaks in every touch, feels every place where they are pressed against each other, so warm and safe and loving after so long without it. He is whole again in the arms of the man he loves.  

“I missed you,” Steve mutters, lips brushing against the skin of Eddie's neck as he speaks, muffled. 

“I know, Stevie,” Eddie murmurs, “my Stevie, I’m so sorry.” 

“S’okay. It wasn't your fault,” Steve mumbles, and he thinks maybe they both need to stop apologizing for this. 

Eddie must think the same, because he says, “And it wasn't yours either,” like he knows every twisted, guilty thought that's been haunting Steve lately and he absolves him of them. He tugs gently at Steve’s hair to get him to lift his head and look him in the eyes. “You know that, right?” 

“Yeah, I know,” Steve says quietly. Eddie reaches up to brush from his cheek a tear Steve didn't even know had fallen, and as he wipes it away he wipes away everything - all blame, all fear, all pain. Eddie had forgotten him, and it sucked, but now he remembers again, and none of that matters anymore. Steve hangs onto Eddie's wrist. “Just-” His voice rasps with emotion, making it rougher. “Don't you ever forget about me again.” 

It's not a promise that can be made with any certainty - anything can happen at any time, just as unexpectedly as it had this time - but Steve doesn't need certainty, he just needs to hear the words, and Eddie gives that to him. “I won't, darling,” he vows, with gentle reassurance. “Never again.”

“Good,” Steve sighs, turning his head into Eddie's hand to press a kiss to the palm. 

The last of his heavier emotions drain out of him then and now he can feel the joy of Eddie's return in its whole entirety. As he rolls his face out of Eddie's hand and settles his eyes on the beautiful boy in front of him, a grin begins to spread across Steve's face; Eddie's smile grows in tandem with his, like he's smiling just because Steve is. Steve says, giddy in full now, “You're back.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, lovely and bright, ducking to bump his forehead against Steve's. “I'm back.” 

Steve lets go of Eddie's wrist to tangle a hand in his hair, and he tilts his head up to kiss him again, just because he can, because he's making up for lost time. They draw each other in close once more, lips and bodies moving against each other, easy and natural. Steve could stay right here like this forever, never wants to stop holding him or stop kissing him. 

But a thought - a question - tickles at the base of Steve's skull, and when he does pull back he asks, hopeless romantic that he is, “Just in case - I mean, just so I know - what was it that brought your memory back? Was it like a…true love’s kiss breaking the spell sort of thing?” 

Eddie laughs, gives Steve another quick peck like he always does when Steve says something endearing. “Not quite, Prince Charming,” he responds with a grin so fond Steve thinks his heart might burst. “It was more like…the things I had remembered were just dreams to me, shallow and unreal, but kissing you was like an anchor, a reminder that allowed those dreams to sink in as proper memories and become real.” 

“So…basically it was true love’s kiss,” Steve says cheekily, just to hear Eddie’s laugh again, just to receive another affectionate press of Eddie's lips against his. 

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie concedes, smilingly, never one not to indulge whimsy, “we can call it that.” But then he amends, with a little less levity, “It wasn't exactly a magic cure-all, though. It didn't bring everything back, there are still gaps in my memory.” He looks at Steve with eyes like pools of melted chocolate, soft and endless. “But I remember that I love you; I remember that much.” 

And Steve tells him, “That's enough," and he pulls him in for another true love's kiss.

THE END. taglist: @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (continued in replies)

[jade-len]

i think it'd be funny if someone transmigrated as xin mo. the goddamn evil sword. instead of taking it seriously, they just really fucked around with bingge. and, somehow, ended up having the opposite effect of what it's supposedly rumored to do.

picture this: bingge, on the quest for revenge and power, comes across the almighty xin mo. this demonic sword killed everyone that dared to even try wielding it. and, the few who were lucky enough to have it by their side, eventually succumbed to the swords' will.

it is said that the sword is unlike any other, that it etches into your head and eats away your brain, until eventually it consumes you whole. it whispers, speaking in lust, greed, and hatred. it slowly beckons the wielder into giving in to the worst part of themselves and feeds off of pure sin. but to him, it is no matter; luo bingge will surely tame it.

and then he gets to the sword.

demonic qi practically oozes from xin mo. the aura surrounding it makes every part of luo bingge scream, "run; get away, away from that monster." his gut prods at him, begging bingge that this is probably a really bad idea. it's a little terrifying, how even luo bingge, the determined, vengeful demon, is now getting second thoughts about wielding xin mo from just being in its presence alone.

but luo bingge is too, a monster. so he ignores the screams of plea; pushing every thought of doubt in the back of his head, and tightly grips onto the handle. the world around him seems to spin and shake, tumble and crack, from the amount of force bingge needs to use in order to pull the sword of sin out of its place.

when bingge finally has it perfectly fit into the palms of his calloused hands, he hears whispering. he knows that the sword has accepted him as its new host.

the sword's language crawls up to him, as if it were feeling around his body and mind. checking every nook and cranny for it to settle into bingge's form, truly becoming one with the embodiment of sin. the words flow through his brain like a tragically broken guqin, a melody that holds him in a frighteningly familiar trance - all while simultaneously eating away at his brain in the worst ways possible, akin to a child and their favorite snack. it seems to beckon something, but even with luo bingge's impressive hearing, he cannot make out any words from the tone-deaf musical notes xin mo sings.

and then, it is clear. the land around him settles, and everything is still. xin mo itself seems to be.. content. at least, that is what luo bingge believes.

the language of this wretched sword reflects the state around these two monsters.

luo bingge expects it to demand for bloodshed, for the erotic ecstasy of multiple women, for bingge to steal the last of the finest gems of these horrible, vast lands.

instead, he hears this:

"yoooo damn that shit was crazy. did you see what i did there? man, you know, it feels so fucking good to get out of the dirt. hey, do you know if people can like, feed their swords or something? i'm kinda craving something spicy. we never know, in this wack world! wait, don't hold me like that, buddy. it'll make things real awkward."

but luo bingge is determined to get his revenge, so he puts up with the swords' constant rambling about.. whatever the hell it's thinking.

"wait, dude, did you seriously fuck a dying girl? that's wild. yeah, like i know she was dying but it doesn't sound like you wanted it. yo, listen to me, consent is very sexy."

"HAHA hey, dude, sir, man. you wanna play some 'i spy'? we don't have anything else to do. no? too bad, we're playing it. i spy a loser who doesn't wanna play i spy. hint: he's holding me right now."

"okay i know i'm supposed to be this super evil sword and beg to be used - woah that sounded real wrong - but can you at least clean me when you're done killing shit? if you don't, i'm gonna refuse to respond to you and you'll look like a dumbass trying to wield me."

"i can't hear you lalalalalalala you're not being very it girl right now lallalalaalalalla-"

somehow, this is worse than if xin mo was actually eating away at his brain.

weirdly enough though, as luo bingge starts spending more time with this weird ass, seemingly possessed sword, it starts to become more of a.. comfort to have it by his side than pure annoyance. he finds himself responding to it more, like, actually having full on conversations with it. it puts him at ease, wielding xin mo. the hatred doesn't consume him, instead, it seems to soothe the burning rage (and, admittedly, just replace it with small irritation) that holds onto his darkened heart.

xin mo is actually quite kind and caring, for a sword that's supposed represent and be the literal embodiment of sin. sure, it is a hassle to have it cooperate with him sometimes, and it does just ramble on and on about the most random things ever, not giving a single shit if bingge was in the middle of sleeping with maidens and slaying those who get in his way. for the first time, bingge feels so comfortable around something.

it's.. odd. what was supposed to be the turning point in his life, a big step in his plan for revenge, is now something akin to an... acquaintance. not like mobei-jun, or any of the women he's come across, but an actual, dare he say, friend.

sometimes, he finds himself thinking all of this delusional. is this what people were driven mad by? perhaps they simply could not handle dealing with a talking sword. he understands that xin mo was undoubtedly unbearable to be around at the beginning of their alliance, but it has never actually beckoned for blood, power, and sex. if anything, it does the opposite.

maybe he's the delusional one. maybe this is xin mo's way of getting to him.

maybe, xin mo should be considered a thing. the thought feels terribly laughable, as if he were witnessing a person horribly explain themselves. it also makes his teeth grind together in pure agitation.

"hey, you know, you didn't deserve any of the things they did. it wasn't your fault, binghe. the fact that you're half heavenly demon doesn't make you a monster, or any of that wild stuff.. uh, i'm here for you, okay? i know you don't really like talking about all of this or opening up, but i just want you to know that you can.. talk about it. it's not like i can tell anyone else, anyways.

hey- shit i didn't mean to make you cry! wait, wait it's okay to cry! you need to let it out anyways, i promise it doesn't make you weak. there, there. i don't have any hands, so me patting you on the head with my handle will have to do. there, there.. everything will be alright, you'll be okay. i'll be here every step of the way, even if you want to get rid of me."

xin mo, the demonic sword, is more of a person - a good person - than anyone he'd ever come across.

...and then bingge and the xin mo transmigrator become besties or he falls for the damn sword. knowing him, he probably doesn't even know the difference between platonic and romantic attraction anyways. maybe bingge gets a plant body for xin mo using airplane's wack writing. idk i typed all of this down in one sitting.

(plot twist: it's not that the transmigrator xin mo had the opposite effect, it was literally just a placebo effect. luo bingge thought that, and thus it actually did help him lmao)

[afyrian]

CONGRATULATIONS ON 200 FOLLOWS AAA!!!! i'm so so excited to see you continue to grow you are so talented and i just can't wait to watch your blog blow up and get the love it deserves <33 regarding your event..... may i request..... ☀️ and suna pls.... I don't think anyone expected anything else of me I'm sorry 😭 AA I'm so excited to see what you do!! <3

sun kissed warnings w/ suna | wc: 300 masterlist | sunburnt

    "you should really apply sunscreen more, it can be really dangerous-"

  "mh mmh yeah."

  his voice is muffled as your hands rub along the top of his back and his shoulders. thick aloe vera is slathered along his back and you work to make sure it's covering every inch of his sunburn. running your hands delicately down his back sends goosebumps up his arms. the burn making it feel cooler than he expected. 

  you roll your eyes, knowing that no matter what you say, he won't pay attention. especially when your thumbs run alongside the sides of his spine, the comforting feeling nearly sending him to sleep, "rin, babe, if you don't be more careful, i'm not going to do this for you anymore. you'll have to call atsumu."

  his head shifts a little, his eyes peering over at you as his smile quickly falls. nearly every time he gets a sunburn you make this threat, feeling too bad to watch him suffer the next. you shake your head when you can see him looking, raising your hands up from his back, one moving for his upper arm. 

  "fine.. i'll put more on next time, okay?" suna turns a little more, resting on his left arm, his right arm raising up and caressing your elbow.

  "promise?"

  "yeah, i promise," he nods, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt's sleeve. 

  instinctively you lean down, pressing a kiss to his lips, nearly tasting the salty ocean air that's cursed him so. they're chapped and you can’t help but sigh happily as your hand feels the external warmth of his sunburn. “now, turn back around or you’re actually going to have to call atsumu,” you lean back a little, tilting your head slightly as you stare into his eyes.

  “anything for you darling.”

[spirits-n-giggles]

Am I the only person in the Beetlejuice fandom that LIKES the movies, the musical, AND show and don't care that they're different? Can we not appreciate different versions of the same thing? I honestly don't get it. It is possible to appreciate all versions of the Beetlejuice universe. I promise.

The 2nd movie isn't negating the musical or the show because the movies are their own cannon, just like the musical is its own cannon, and so is the cartoon. Do the universes make jabs at each other sometimes? Of course they do. It's Beetlejuice for God's sake. It's meta as fuck which is why it cracks me up that some of y'all take this so seriously. Especially the ship wars. Jeezus. 😒 it's not that serious guys.

The 2nd movie doesn't take anything away from the show or the cartoon because they are all different universes.

And that's OKAY!

It's all fanfiction after the 1st movie anyway so why are y'all so mad? Is it because things aren't going your way? Is it because the creators wrote the fanfiction wrong to you?

There's fanfiction for that, too, ya know.

The cartoon show was created AFTER the movie... so it's literally episodic fanfiction. Good fanfiction. I watched it. Love it.

The musical was created AFTER the movie AND the show..... Fanfiction. I get to see it live for the first time in November and I am SO excited. I already know how the story differs and I'm fine with it being different. I LIKE that they're being creative.

The 2nd movie is literally a FANFICTION. I swear to God they scoured ao3 and said bet. It's fucking ridiculous. Yeah I fucking LOVED how stupid it was. How can anyone take any of these universes seriously?!?!

None of it would have existed without THE ORIGINAL SOURCE MATERIAL. Thank you Keatlejuice. 💚

It's all fanfiction. These creators just got to make money off their bullshit, and I think some of y'all are just mad that others fanfictions got the green light and yours didn't.

And if that's the case then go touch some grass.

I personally love all forms, and I know there has got to be others that do, too.

[thespookiestparker]

The Price Of Freedom

A/N: hello everyone!! it feels very weird to be coming back to this blog with a new fic but I’ve been trying to put this together for months, I’ve finally torn myself away from the game for long enough to write about it lol enjoy!

p.s. I also made this playlist after I romanced him for the very first time and it was what I was listening to if you want some ✨mood music✨

Summary: Astarion struggles with his newfound livelihood now that he isn’t bound to Cazador

Pairing: Spawn!Astarion x GN!Tav

CW: Angst (That gets resolved), blood mention/description (kind of inevitable with a vampire but 🤷🏻‍♂️)

Over your time traveling with your newfound friends, you and Astarion had grown to be what you considered close. When everyone else had bedded down for the night, the two of you would more often than not find each other.

It had taken time, and you honestly weren’t sure it would happen. For a while, you were left to wonder if Astarion even liked anyone at camp, let alone you. Sometimes, he’d let things slip, though.

Like when you threw a pile of shit at that goblin’s face, he’d let out a soft chuckle. Short and sweet, something you’re sure he didn’t mean to set free, but he did nonetheless before the fighting had broken out. Or, a week later, when you’d started to catch him sneaking glances at you over the campfire as you spoke to Gale or Wyll. You could’ve sworn that a flash of jealousy flashed in his eyes from time to time, but you’d never tell him that you noticed. You didn’t want to embarrass him, even if he would never admit to feeling that kind of emotion.

It all came to a head at the party that was held at your camp with the tieflings from the emerald grove, when he’d asked to sneak away with you for the night for some ‘fun’. Something about him had seemed…off that night when you looked back on it. Astarion had seemed too composed for someone who’d been drinking. The vampire hadn’t said much about his past by then, other than that he’d had a master in Baldur’s Gate who had treated him like he was less than nothing. You could tell that pity wasn’t the answer here, that he would only take offense to something like that, so instead you showed him respect. He was a formidable ally, after all, you couldn’t afford to lose him, even if you hadn’t developed feelings for him.

Now, you were almost inseparable. Every time you fell in battle, he was the first to rush to help you up, and at first you weren’t sure if it was because he’d smelled your blood or if he was genuinely trying to help. That was, until you saw his eyes widen in a way you’d never seen before and only a few times since, vulnerable concern etched into his pale face. It made a pang of guilt explode in your chest that you’d ever thought any less of him.

Every day seemed to allow you to peel away at his prickly, impatient, and overall grumpy layers to get to the man beneath. The softer, more broken elf that had been hiding behind all these nearly impenetrable walls that he only seemed to let down around you, though it had been only partial to start. Even if someone else in the party was able to take a glimpse, you were slowly piecing together the whole picture.

Or at least, you thought you were.

It was the night before you were to reach Baldur’s Gate when the next one of those walls came crashing down around him, startling both of you.

You sought him out in the night, as you usually did, but when you peered into his tent, it was empty. Before you had time to process that, you heard his voice in the form of a deep growl behind you,

“What are you doing?”

Your body whipped around to face him, immediately noticing how he was towering over you. The blood on his chin glistened in the faint light of the moon, catching your gaze before his eyes of the same piercing red did.

You must’ve had a fearful look on your face because he seemed to snap back into his own mind, his expression going from a feral sort of anger to something akin to the familiar loving and vulnerable look you’d come to adore. But this was different. There was a deep sort of pain in his eyes, it made you instinctively extend your hand to him before he tore himself away.

“Don’t touch me.” he spat, his voice guarded and icy. He nearly pushed past you to get to his tent, to shroud himself in the familiarity of complete darkness and isolation.

“Astarion, wait—“ you tried, your hand hesitantly floating between the two of you as he angrily gripped the flap of his tent.

“Just. Leave me be. For tonight.” His voice was nothing more than a whisper just before he disappeared behind the red burlap of his tent.

The heaviness in your heart was devastating and cold, but you left him alone for now and decided to sit by the fire instead. Keeping watch over your sleeping friends as tears spilled silently over your cheeks.

All you could think about was comforting him, holding him in your arms until the pain seeped out of him in waves. But you weren’t about to go against his wishes, so instead you let your emotions run free until you fell asleep. You didn’t mention anything to the others in the morning, and you didn’t want them to notice. Astarion’s business was his own to share, not yours, so you weren’t going to let your emotions get in the way of that. He deserved privacy after all this time, you weren’t about to get in the way of that.

The next days distanced the two of you as your group explored the city. He seemed just as closed off as when you’d started your adventure, if not more, and you were afraid that nothing could get him to open up to you again. It seemed like the others may have noticed as well, though it wasn’t exactly a secret. The silence between the two of you was loud enough to be heard miles away.

“OOO! A circus! Can we go?!” Karlach squealed, gesturing to a sign that displayed a brightly colored poster for something called ‘The Circus of The Last Days’.

Maybe not everyone had noticed. No one else had said anything to contradict you, so you didn’t touch upon it.

“Sure, we can go.” You chuckle, trying your hardest to seem normal right now, for Astarion’s sake if not yours. You lead everyone into the circus, past the elf and the ghoul at the gate, and you all end up splitting off until it was just you and Astarion. You half expected him to distance himself from you again, since he’d seemed to need to be alone, but then his words from last night echoed in your mind.

“Just for tonight”

You weren’t sure why he’d suddenly wanted the distance, but you didn’t want to question it. He was well within his rights, but you couldn’t help the worry gnawing in your stomach that you were constantly pushing down.

All of it was interrupted when he slipped his hand in yours, a discreet maneuver that would’ve gone unnoticed by anyone looking at the two of you, before you felt him squeeze it. A wordless apology, which you happily accepted for now. You could talk later, for now, it felt safe to be enjoying the circus amidst the chaos that was your lives.

“Darling, do you think a statue of me would be too much for our little camp?” He asked, his normal smug confidence radiating from him as he posed next to a nearby tent. It was owned by a mud mephit and his wife, who were conveniently named Boney and Stoney, and advertised statues made of the likeness of any passersby willing to pay their price.

“It costs 5,000 gold!” You laughed, shaking your head at him as you tugged on his arm in a vain attempt to pull him away from said tent.

“So? Don’t you want something to immortalize my beauty for all of eternity?”

“I don’t need it, I already have you.”

The love and care you shower him with never ceased to take him off his guard, but he smiled regardless and continued on with you through the circus, enjoying the frivolous nature of the it all.

Days of traveling later, once your party had not only found Cazador, but made sure he was good and dead, you decided to at least attempt to breach the subject when he seemed to be more stable. Your relationship was so fragile that something this deep and painful could shatter it, which was exactly what you didn’t want.

That night, you found him just as you always did on nights like these, sitting by the dying fire as the rest of your friends headed to their separate corners of your dwelling for the night.

“May I join you?” You ask softly, gently touching his shoulder now that he’d been the first one to make physical contact earlier that day. You always let him take the lead on things like that because you wanted to let him be the one to make the choice of whether or not he wanted that kind of affection, knowing he had so little of his own autonomy for so many years. Even if he had expressed to you that it was becoming easier to differentiate you from those sorts of feelings.

“Of course, darling, always.” He responds in a similar tone, turning his head to look at you as you sat yourself beside him which made some of his stark white curls fall into his eyes.

“There have been times when you seemed to…” You pause, considering your wording for a moment, “...disagree with that statement.”

“That was different, I was…not myself.” He seemed almost disgusted by something, presumably something about himself or the way he acted last night.

“I’ve never seen you that way, it was almost like you were—”

“A vampire?” he interrupted, and you rest your hand over his where it lay on his knee,

“Someone else…You know that I see you for more than what you are. That I always have.”

“Regardless, I am lucky that you saw me in that state and not anyone else. I haven’t been that disheveled since I was first turned, and anyone else would only see a monster, which frustrates me all the more,” without letting you speak, he continued. Seeming to be fueled by the traumatizing anguish that lies within him, or at least some of it, “because it isn’t fair! I didn’t ask to be a monster! No one told me that I’d be cursed this way, and I regret not dying that night on the street—“ he exploded into a rage, though it was like the one you had seen the night he came back to camp. The same deeply seeded pain behind his eyes was ever present as he roared such hurtful words. He stood quickly, turning away from you as shame diffused from his being.

“Astarion…” You cried, holding out your hand for him only to see him flinch away. As if he was afraid you would hurt him, which made a burning pain spread through you emanating from your heart. It felt wrong, like you’d only made things worse without intending to. The tears that welled in your eyes came without your permission but you were helpless to do anything but keep them from falling.

“What?!” He whirled around to face you, his face spattered with tears. A level of distress and anger you hadn’t seen from him since Cazador’s passing. You’re suddenly reminded of the image that was him, kneeling over his former master’s lifeless body as he sobbed. Shirtless and covered in blood.

It had broken your heart to see him that way, but he’d needed that moment to let what had just happened wash over him. To finally be free.

You snapped back to reality when Astarion seemed to realize what he’d said, and how it had affected you as he roughly rubbed at his tear-stained cheeks.

“I…I don’t really think that way. This…all of this…has been… a bit much for me. Knowing that he forever changed me. That I’ll never truly have a chance to be something other than a monster in the eyes of most–”

You step forward, once again extending your hands but stopping just before you make contact with his skin to ask silent permission from him. He nodded with little to no hesitation, urging you on before you gently cupped his cheeks and continued to speak, “I don’t think that you’re a monster…You’ve said it yourself, you are so much more than he made you. I, for one, fully believe that. If you don’t believe it yourself right away, that’s more than alright, because I’ll be here to remind you. Every step of the way.”

He almost can’t look at you, more salty tears threatening to spill from his red and puffy eyes.

“I…don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to right now. All that you need to do right now is to rest. We both should.” You answer gently yet firmly, starting to pull your hands from his face before he grabbed one of your wrists.

“Don’t,” he started, an air of desperation in his words, “I…I haven’t been the kindest to you, and I apologize for that, but I don’t want to be alone. Please.” You hadn’t planned on leaving him, but usually touch was something that had made him uncomfortable so you were simply ending the contact even though he seemed to take it a different way.

“You won’t be alone…I’m here.” You reassure, moving your hand to his shoulder instead while letting him hold your wrist. “But I stand by my statement. Come on,” You lead him inside his own tent, bedding down with him for the first time since the night he’d come back to camp covered in something else’s blood, though it would be far from the last.