#technically i could just steal his booze

[dick-chugger]

Any ideas on how to get my dumbass dad to stop drinking for a couple of days

[lockes-woods]

Kinktober '24 Day 1

Request: I cant help myself another kinktober ask: shanks x mihawk x afab reader. overstimulation, bondage, vibrators

Requested By: @motherofbirbs

WARNINGS: smut, overstimulation, MxM, MxFxM, anal sex, bondage, sex toys, degradation, name calling, masturbation

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 A deep whine escaped you as you struggled against your restraints. Eyes locked onto your partners making out shamelessly in front of you. Mihawk was reclined against the headboard in your shared bed, his legs spread to accommodate Shanks who was reclining against him. You felt helpless as Mihawk worked on opening up the redhead, while Shanks cupped his face to pull him into a deeper kiss. You felt tears of frustration prick at your eyes. While you could always close your eyes or look away something inside of you made you want to watch. You still felt antsy from the orgasm your partners had stolen from you, when you were teetering on the edge of your peak. While you knew you were technically in the wrong, it didn’t make your current situation any easier to deal with.

It had been a long day in the city where the Red Force was currently docked. You had accompanied your partners into the island to aid in almost an entire restock of all goods from soap to flour to booze. That was until you started to get a headache. Both your partners agreed it’d be best for you to get out of the sun and lay down back in your shared cabin. That’s when you committed a maneuver you’d perfected over your time as Mihawk and Shanks lover. While Shanks was pulling you in for a goodbye kiss you rested your palm on his left side slipping the keys to your sex toy drawer from his belt. You had already planned to pretend you found them on the floor of your cabin and leave them with his things inside your shared quarters. You didn’t do it often, but when you knew you’d need an assist to cum and both your partners were going to be busy you’d succumbed to stealing the keys.

You objectively knew you’d be punished, but you also knew that when nothing else worked to get rid of a headache cumming almost always does the trick. If it were just Mihawk you had to worry about you would have flat-out asked for the keys, but you had to be a bit sneakier when it came to the redhead. Shanks had a few hard stops when it came to sex, but one of his biggest was when anything other than him and Mihawk made you cum. That included not only sex toys, which he referred to as ‘the replacements’, but also you. Since the start of your relationship, you were only allowed to make yourself cum if one of your loves were present and gave permission, or if there were extenuating circumstances. Masturbation was the highest on the list of things to earn you a punishment. Outside of the punishment, there was also the unwanted side effect of how it affected Shanks. He’d start out pissed and domineering, before edging into a pout post punishment. Which while it doesn’t seem like the worst thing in the world it was hard to get him out of that mood.

The last time he’d caught you masturbating he looked angry in the moment, before dissolving into what only could be described as a kicked puppy. Shanks was proud of many of the skills he had garnered over the years, but one he prided himself on was always making you cum. When you used toys or touched yourself, he took it as a personal affront to his character and abilities. After being caught you had to not only be punished but also help build up his mood. You had only done this a handful of times and only when you were desperate, like today. You just wanted to be able to nip this headache in the bud and get on with your day. You knew your partners would be too busy to help and off the ship for at least a couple more hours; at least you thought that’d be the case.

You were close, so close. You were spread out on your shared bed, half-dressed, rocking against the thrusts of your favorite vibrating dildo. Your eyes were shut as you focused on the pleasure the toy was giving you. You shamelessly moaned your lover’s names the closer you got to your orgasm. That’s when the door to your cabin was suddenly flung open, your partners mistaking your pleasure-filled moans, for groans of pain. They both stood there for a moment before taking in the situation at hand. Unsurprisingly Mihawk reacted first, quickly closing the door. You and Shanks held each other’s gazes for a moment. You were frozen in fear still stuffed full of the dildo, his eyes sharpening as he took in the situation in a look, you’d only been on the receiving end of a few times. He was pissed.

He marched forward and yanked the toy from its place deep inside you, causing you to let out a stuttered moan. He tossed it aside on the bed away from you, before grabbing onto your ankle and pulling you down to the foot of the bed. You sat panting as your partners silently communicated through a shared look. Mihawk turned to lock the door as Shanks gripped your chin and guided you onto your feet, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, causing Shanks to let out a dry laugh.

“Oh baby, you will be.” He responded, a dark look in his eye. He settled you down in his desk chair, now naked, and bounding your hands behind your back with his belt in a rushed job. He pulled a whimper from you as he did one final tug to make sure they were snug, but not too tight. He moved quickly as Mihawk stood over you, crossed arms, gazing down at you disappointedly.

“You couldn’t have waited a half hour?” he asked looking down his nose at you.

“N-no,” you whined, thighs rubbing together chasing any form of friction.

“Baby,” Shanks interrupted, pushing your knees apart, before crouching down to your level, “Color?’

“Green,” you panted.

“And your safe word?” he prompted, pressing a vibrator on, teasing it between your lower lips. Your eyes widened, it wasn’t just a normal vibrator, no he chose the one with the remote control.

“Love?” he said pulling you back into reality.

“Marines,” you answered, eyes locked on the bullet-shaped vibrator, covered in different designs of ridges. You moaned as he roughly shoved it inside of you, before he stood up to his full height, towering over you.

“You’ve been a bad girl today. Since you want to use your toys so badly that’s all you’ll be given today. I expect even a slut like you to listen and follow each of my commands; is that clear?” he asked clicking the vibrator on a lower setting. Just high enough to keep you wet, but not enough to make you cum.

“Yes,” you nodded,

“Good,” he responded, tugging Mihawk down for a kiss as the two started to tear off each other’s clothing, before falling into bed.

Which left you here, fully restrained watching as Mihawk jerked Shanks off at a firm, but steady pace. Before he hooked the redhead’s thigh outside of his own, giving you a clear view of all the action. Mihawk then clicked open the cap of some lube, before spreading a decent about on his fingers and Shanks asshole. Shanks melted against Mihawk as he breached into his heat with one hand while the other continued to jerk Shanks off. You rubbed your thighs together desperately; you could feel your slick wetting the wooden seat of the chair.

A surprised gasp escaped you when the vibrator clicked up to its highest setting. A shiver rocked through you as the sex toy pulsed, vibrated, and shook deep within you. You threw your head back as the coil inside of you tightened so fast it was almost painful.

“Love,” Shanks called out, snapping what little of your attention you could spare to opening your eyes and taking him in. By the sound of his voice, he was just as close to cumming as you were.

“Fuck, please,” you begged as your legs began to preemptively shake.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he ordered, you tried your hardest mind already foggy from pleasure.

“Cum,” he ordered, your eyes never leaving his as you hit your peak. You writhed against the chair with what little movement you had. Your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you came down from your high. You panted, eyes still glued to his, the vibe slowing, but not completely turned off.

“Fuck,” you moaned, finally catching your breath, “Thank you, captain,” you said, well-trained by your more dominant partners.  

“You're welcome baby,” he panted, whining as Mihawk slipped his fingers out of him. Your eyes were hooded from lust, as you watched Mihawk slowly fuck up into Shanks as he adjusted. While there were many ways to describe how Shanks looked from day to day, emotion to emotion only one word came into your head seeing him like this: pretty. From the blush staining his cheeks that matched the irritated head of his cock, to his hardened nipple to his tousled hair. He was just so pretty.

Too enraptured by your partners to even think of the low vibrations still buzzing inside of you. You allowed yourself to be lulled into a false sense of security that you’d be stuck tied to the chair as your loves had their way with each other and then the punishment would be over; you were so wrong. A gasp punched through you as the vibration level jumped up to maximum once again. The stimulation borders on uncomfortable as your body is thrown into another peak. This time you lock eyes with Mihawk, a self-assured smirk plastered on his face as you saw he had one hand on Shank’s hip and the other gripping the remote. You barely have any time to process the situation before your body is once again shaking, slick now pooling in the seat of your chair.

You panted, with your head bowed as you tried your hardest to catch your breath. Only looking up when you heard Shanks moan in the tell-tale signs he was about to cum. This time he locked eyes with you, shaking in Mihawk’s arms as he came spurting cum all over his stomach and Mihawk’s hand.

“T-thank you, Sir,” you stuttered out reminded of Shanks’ orgasm that your lack of gratitude would only lead to more punishments. Mihawk acknowledged it with a small nod, before he threw Shanks on his stomach onto the bed, pushing the redhead’s shoulders down before he reentered him from his raised backside. Despite the almost painful second orgasm you couldn’t help yourself but rub your thighs together at Shanks’ fucked out face. Shanks shared a soft look with you, moments before you were jerked painfully against the chair unable to run away from the stimulation of the vibrator still lodged deep inside you.

Shanks let out a broken moan, just as wrecked as you were as Mihawk hit his prostate over and over again, with pinpoint accuracy. Your mind went blank as an equally pleasurable and painful orgasm ripped through you. You don’t register anything for a moment, only coming back down into your body as you feel Mihawk gently rubbing your wrist with ointment where the friction of the belt has been too much. He slowly spread your legs before tilting your head up to gain what little attention you had left.

“Love, I’m going to remove the vibrator now. Is that okay?” you nodded. He slowly took you step-by-step, letting you know his movements and be able to consent to each one. You let out a broken moan as he finally breached your pussy and felt around for the toy. As softly and slowly he as he could he pulled the toy out of your overstimulated cunt. He gently picked you up and tucked you into bed where you cuddled up with Shanks. Only having to wait a moment before your other love slipped in bed behind you.

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MASTERLIST

A/N: Okay I did better than I thought I would as far as holding back as much as I can to not overwrite. I'm trying to keep each one-shot as similar length-wise as possible to be fair to all those who requested. This was only 7 pgs and a little over 2,000 words. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed ^_^.

[noorpersona]

Nosedives (Miya Astumu x Reader) Pt. 1

You were startled awake by a sharp knocking at your door. It was persistent, loud, and you instantly knew who it was.

But that didn’t make you any less angry.

You stumble out of bed, eyeing the clock as you read the ungodly time of 2 am, infuriated. You pull on your robe, trying to make yourself look somewhat decent before ultimately deciding that you shouldn’t have to, then marching to your door to whip it open.

“Atsumu, it’s too late for your shit. Someone better be dying.” You look down at your best friend (tentative at the moment) with utter dismay and annoyance.

He barges pasts you and into your apartment, making way to your kitchen. You sigh deeply, already being able to tell this was going to be a long night. As he rummages through your fridge, you glare at him with narrowed eyes, waiting for an explanation. You watch in disbelief as he opens your fridge and grabs a beer from one of the shelves, opening it and taking a long slug. You watch as Atsumu chugs down the beer, feeling a mix of frustration and slight concern for him.

“Hey, dipshit. We have places to go get drinks, they’re called bars. Go there instead of bothering me at two in the goddamn morning.” You hiss, walking to face him across your kitchen island.

He gives you a long look, and it gives you time to really drink him in. Atsumu was wearing a black leather jacket with a nice, albeit tight sweater (The kind that really showed off his broad shoulders) and some trousers. His smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he takes another swig from the bottle, completely unfazed by your frustration.

You deduce that, most likely, the man in question had a date. Which wasn’t surprising for you; Atsumu had always been somewhat of a ladies man. Even back in high school he had girls begging at his feet to go on dates. You personally never really understood the obsession. Sure, he was good looking, but with his personality…

Eh, you could understand everyone had their preferences.

Though, now as an adult, dates had turned into one night stands, but whatever. You weren’t one to judge, unless they started ransacking your kitchen.

Then you’d judge plenty.

“I’m pissed.” He finally says, slamming back the rest of the beer and searching for more in your fridge.

“Join the club. I got a best friend whose an asshole and is drinking all my well earned booze. What’s your problem?” Atsumu turns back to you, drink in hand.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Atsumu pounds back another beer, and you squint your eyes at him, knowing him too well for this bullshit.

“You came all the way over here, at two in the morning, might I add, just to not talk about it?” You cross your arms. You honestly just wanted to get this over with, so you could go back to sleep and have him crash on your couch like he normally did when he came over. He usually just needed a little coaxing to get his true intentions out. Then he’d spill (more like whine) and you could both move on.

“And for the beer.” He smirks, taking another sip, trying to be funny. You snatch the can away from him.

“Hey! I was drinking that!”

“And for that you owe me 7 bucks. Now what are you doing here? I got work in the morning you know.” He rolls his eyes, as if you were the problem here.

You were finding it difficult to remember why you hung around him so much.

“My date was a bitch.” He grumbled out, not looking at you. You only scoffed, failing to notice the growing redness around his cheeks and ears.

“And that’s what’s got you so wound up? I figured you’d be too mellowed out to care if she was a bitch after the fucking.” You said bluntly, taking a sip of beer you stole from Atsumu.

Well, it was technically yours, so it wasn’t stealing. He let out a long sigh.

“We never really got to that part.” You felt your jaw clench.

“So is she a bitch for not sleeping with you? I’m telling you, I’m finding it really hard to like you right now-“

“No, that’s not it.” He still refused to look at you, and you couldn’t help but become curious. Because not a lot of things flustered Atsumu, hell you could even say the man had no shame, so to find him this shaken…

It was interesting.

“We- We were in the middle of some foreplay, and she said…” Atsumu paused dramatically. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“She said?” You continued, taking another sip.

“That I didn’t know how to finger her.”

You couldn’t help but choke on your drink, not able to stifle your laughter. Atsumu shot you an annoyed glare as you continued to chuckle, gasping for air between fits of laughter and attempting for the alcohol to go down the correct pipe.

“It’s not funny!” Atsumu yelled your name, furious, as you continue to cough and laugh, the two actions intertwining.

“I’m sorr-sorry,” You coughed a couple more times. “I’m sorry its just- You were moping because she hurt your precious ‘wittle’ ego? What are you, 12?” He glared at you.

“It’s more than that!” He says, not even denying it. “This is about pride, and I’m completely justified! To say that is like saying I’ve got no skill, and lord knows I’ve. Got. Skill.” He ranted and you couldn’t wipe the smirk off your face. For as long as you knew him, Atsumu had always strived to be the best. At whatever he set his mind to. Whether it be volleyball, beating his brother, or even fucking, once he decided to be at the top, almost nothing could stop him. So seeing him being infuriated at the idea of not being the greatest at something he actually cared about, however stupid and shallow, made the dark part of you want to tease him a little but more. “I’ve satisfied countless women! You know!” You snorted.

“How would I? I’ve never been finger fucked by you. By all means she could be totally right.” You could tell that by the look on his face you struck a nerve. It gave you a little more satisfaction than it should’ve. You chalk it up to the slight buzz you felt from the alcohol.

“Alright then! I’ll prove it!” The statement gives you pause. Like, serious pause.

“Again, I must ask. How, exactly?” There’s a silence that follows that question, and one that fills your stomach with butterflies.

Suddenly, you see your best friend start walking around the island and towards you, grabbing your arm and dragging you to your couch, and practically shoving you on your back. He’s quick to follow, getting close enough to smell the strong fumes of alcohol on his breath.

Just how much had he drunk before he came over?

You see him go for your robe tie, and you stop him there, pushing against a chest that shouldn’t feel that hard. This is where you draw the line. You could deal with a lot of things, but you don;t think your self-worth could handle the major repercussions of what you think is about to happen.

“Atsumu, what are you doing?”

“I said I’d prove it.” You deadpan.

“Yeah, that’s not happening. You’re drunk and I’m not interested.” He raises a brow at you, and you have to force your face to stay passive and unimpressed. He smirks, leaning in closer, ignoring your resistance and determined to prove his point.

“Oh come on. Everyone’s interested in me.” It’s your turn to raise a brow.

“This is bringing out a lovely colour on you.” He clicks his tongue.

“Think of this as an experiment.” Your answer is immediate. Maybe because you don’t want to actually consider it.

“Nope.” You push further, but he doesn’t budge. You’re now very aware of just how close he is. You can feel the warmth ebbing off him in waves.

“A bet?” That question catches your interest. You’re almost ashamed of how you’re beginning to fall for it.

“… How much?” You can’t believe the words that come out of your mouth, but you watch as Atsumu’s face brightens. You’re not sure if it’s because of the approval, or the challenge.

“500?” You honestly think about it. Weighing your morals and values about whether this would be ethical. Whether you really wanted to show your best friend of almost a decade that level of intimacy…

But then again, a 500 bucks is a 500 bucks.

“Deal.”

That’s all the conformation Atsumu needs, going to untie the knot of robe, when you go to stop him again. He actually whines. You squint at his impatience.

“What now?”

“It’s my body you’re groping here. I call the shots. We need to establish some ground rules.” He sighs heavily, but removes his hand, showing that he’s willing to listen.

“Nothing else but your hands, that means no kissing or anything close to that.” You wait for approval and he nods. “You’ll have ten minutes?”

“Five. I’ve never needed any more than that.” He smirks, and you stick your tongue out at his arrogance.

“Pretty cocky for someone who gave himself blueballs.”

“Not funny.”

“Humor is subjective.” You shrug, smirking at his distaste. “Oh yeah, go wash your hands before we start.” With that he goes to your bathroom and does what you ask. In those few minutes you had half the nerve to call it all off, with something in your gut telling you this was probably a bad idea, but you couldn’t make the decision fast enough before he came back, look in his eyes similar to when he was playing a game.

For some reason you felt a little out of your element.

“Alright. All washed. Ready to lose?” You roll your eyes, all the while trying to control your breathing.

“Please.” You couldn’t think of a proper comeback, which should’ve already told you you were in over your head, but you couldn’t even consider it as he finally removed your robe, showing your very ugly sleep attire. Which consisted of an extremely large, beaten up t-shirt.

And nothing else.

You felt your skin turn to fire as Atsumu trailed his leg up your thigh, gentle, precise.

Like a lion scoping out a gazette to kill.

“Start the clock.” He doesn’t ask, but demands, and you can’t even think to say anything as you start a five minute timer on your phone; Within the same breath he parts your thighs, just as soft and gentle. Like you were made of glass that he wouldn’t dare break. You almost get lost in the feeling, but jerk back to reality when he rubs against your lips with a light, feather like touch. You notice his eyes widen a fraction, but quickly return to half lidded as a smile begins to grow.

You can’t control your flinch, which causes him to smile deeper.

“No panties to bed? Didn’t think you were the type.” His voice is quiet, but powerful. The baritones cause your soul to shake in ways you never thought it could. It was unlike any tone you’ve ever heard him speak in. You have to stop yourself from covering yourself in embarrassment, but can’t stop the red that spreads across your cheeks.

“Shut up.” It’s said in the meekest voice you’ve ever heard. To be honest, if it wasn’t you, you’d have a hard time believing it was.

“None of the rules included no talking. So no, I don’t think I will.” You stay quiet, trying to avoid eye contact as he continues rubbing, tracing the lips of your cunt. It stays like that for a couple seconds, and you swear you begin to feel fuzzy.

The touch was like nothing, yet it felt like everything. You choose to look at the ceiling, trying to ignore the growing pulse in your lower belly, and the sudden lump in your throat.

“You’ve wasted about thirty seconds now… Do you need a picture of the woman anatomy? I don’t mind you using a cheat sheet…” You cringe at the slight shake in your voice, but Atsumu doesn’t seem to notice it.

“You fail to realize that the start of anything half decent is the anticipation of it.”

You stiffen at sentence. Not because of the words, but because of the sheer determination in his voice.

This fucker was serious about this.

Shit, you were so screwed.

“Which is why…” His thumb suddenly parts you, and you lightly hiss at the attack of cold air rushing against you, feeling exponentially stronger than you would have ever assumed.

“You’re absolutely soaked right now.” You hated how right he was, how you could hear your lips parting, but you couldn’t say anything as he wasted no more time, going directly for your clit, using the rough, calloused pad of his thumb to draw a large, slow circle. You jump at the direct contact, the juxtaposition from the light touch to the heavy rub, and you can’t stop the squeak that escapes you. You can feel his smugness ebb off him, poor deflated ego slowing have air be pumped back in.

You felt warm. Too warm.

“You’re pretty sensitive. Am I actually doing you a favour with this bet?” You realize just how close he is to you, his voice tingling the canal of your ear, and you squirm at it. He doesn’t stop his movements, still opting for slow full circles, and you try to focus on the walls of your apartment, all the while stopping yourself from moving your hips.

You’ve gone way too deep to stop this obvious bad idea. If you wanted to save face, you needed to beat him.

“I’ve had much hotter men do much better, so I wouldn’t be so sure.” You purr, only a little breathless, trying not think of the obvious lie you just told in favour of watching Atsumu’s jaw clench. But if you were being honest, Atsumu had always been attractive to you, and he wasn’t doing that bad a job.

Plus, you hadn’t had a date in months, let only a boyfriend. But there’s no way you’d let him know.

Though, you should’ve thought twice about riling him up. He was the more than determined now to make you eat those words.

He doesn’t say anything, opting for harsher treatment. He switches to smaller, tighter circles, and every once in a while a figure eight is drawn on your clit, rubbing that little pearl all the right ways. You don’t have time to think when you put your hand to your mouth, attempting to stop the whines that are desperately begging to come out. You fight against yourself to stop your eyes from rolling to back of your head, but you’re fighting an uphill battle.

You don’t even realize you’re rolling your hips until you feel the warmth of his hand on you, trying to keep you steady. If you weren’t floating on metaphoric nirvana right now, you’d be mortified.

“Would you like it if I did this?” He basically whispers, all too sensually, you add, pinching your clit right at its most sensitive. You jerk.

“Shit.” You hiss, automatically grabbing for his deltoid, digging your nails into his skin hard enough to mold half crescents into his muscles. You start to audibly hear your breathing. And Atsumu’s.

“I think that’s a yes.” He chuckles, but there’s no longer a smug tone to his voice, more like curiosity or… enamour.

“Let’s take it up a notch, yeah?” Your eyes widen when you feel his fingers leave your clit, embarrassingly puffed and engorged, to your even more embarrassing twitching hole. He circles it, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

You couldn’t watch your unraveling.

Your breath hitches when he enters a single digit, it practically glides in with the teasing he had done.

“God damn.” Atsumu mutters, but there’s no hint of a teasing or smug tone, seemingly way too focused with how you gripped his finger, sucking him in when he tried to pull back.

He starts slow, but the pace increases with every thrust of his finger. Though he wasn’t doing anything special persay, the girth of Atsumu’s fingers compared to yours was one you were not accustomed to, and one you definitely couldn’t handle silently. When he added a second, the stretch was so welcomed you couldn’t stop the sounds that broke through your mouth.

“F-fuck.” You strain, arching your back unconsciously. You were too far gone to notice just how intensely Atsumu is watching you. Or the very obvious tent forming in his pants.

The timer was long gone at this point, with both of you being more interested in the tempo at which his fingers moved. At some point you realized that with every thrust he would curl his fingers, and you immediately realized what he was trying to do.

You knew for sure you wouldn’t last if he kept that up. Your hand went from his deltoid to his wrist in an attempt to stop him.

“Wai-wait! Don’t-Don’t press-!”

Then he found it. That spongey flesh that made you see stars. His first press was hard, and you swear you almost came from that one move. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, unable to think of anything else.

Your visions too blurred with sudden tears to see the look on Atsumu’s face whether it was filled to brim with smug satisfaction or not.

Either way, he had found what he was looking for.

With his palm to your clit, he moved even faster than before, fingers slamming into you, curling his fingers with more and more accuracy each time. You no longer tried to contain your moans, focusing on the strange sensation of a growing pressure deep in your abdomen.

Something was telling you that it wasn’t a good sign for you.

You tried to formulate a sentence, words even, but all you could make out was a garbled version of his name, that he would most likely never let you forget.

The pressure was growing, and you started to panic. It was like a rubber band growing taught, and it was going to snap any second.

“You’re pretty close aren’t you? You’re twitching like crazy.” The murmur in your ear, along with the heat of his breath along the side of your neck, becomes way too much.

You whined in response, trying to let it be known that you were about to burst.

“Cum for me.”

And that was it. The band snapped and it snapped hard.

You saw literal white, a pressure being released that felt so great you almost ascended. It lasted a long while, and you still felt the aftershocks when he removed his fingers.

You felt boneless, not even caring about the point of whatever you two were doing. But what surprised you is the fact that Atsumu was quiet.

He was never quiet. Never.

Your eyes flutter open to a have lidded position not having the energy to open it any further. You get a look at him, but he isn’t looking at you, he’s looking down at his hand.

You blush, feeling only a little dose of reality come to smack you.

“Hey… Don’t be a perv and just gloat already-“

“You squirted.”

You freeze at his words, face feeling all that much brighter, as you go to check out the damage you hadn’t even realized you caused. You bend over to see, low and behold, a puddle of wetness sitting on your couch along with your best friends hand dripping in the essence of you.

It was… a lot. And had never happened to you before.

You both continue to stare, silence pretty much deafening, both of you unsure what to say. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

When the timer rang. Three prongs of sound filling the room, and slapping you into high gear.

This was too much for you.

You stood upright, a little too fast for your head or legs, feeling the shake in your muscles from the prolonged strain of tension.

“I-I should-… Clean the couch. You can sleep on the other one for now.” You refuse to make eye contact with the still quiet Atsumu, tying your robe as fast you could, heading for your nearest towel and wipes. You do the cleanup rather quickly, still not mentioning the extremely awkward situation. Once finished you try to tie up any loose ends.

“You know where the blanket and pillows are, help yourself. And I’ll uh… send you the money in the morning.” You mumble before rushing to your bedroom, slamming the door and clutching your heart in a panicked manner.

What. The. Fuck.

[bugmomwrites]

How NOT To Adult: Itsuka Kendou

I swear I didn't forget about this series, I've started college back up again and I think it's about time I update. Give some sense of normalcy as life gets more chaotic again.

Check out the rest of this mini series here

Two words: wine mom

She was a hard working responsible class rep, and now she’s a hard working responsible hero. She deserves a break.

When she takes a “mental health day off” she stays at home to relax and make fun of shitty soap operas while daydrinking alone

Texts the (still active) former class B group chat to let them know what’s up

“It’s wine o clock!”

“Mom it’s nine thirty am on a Tuesday”

A few seconds later a selfie appears of her lounging back on some decorative pillows with a fluffy blanket

She’s holding up a glass of fancy wine filled to the brim smiling like that Leonardo DiCaprio meme. You know the one

If there’s a party or event somewhere and they’re serving booze she usually gets to all the fancy/expensive shit before anyone else

Will 100% share with Kodai though if she’s around

Steals bottles from every PTA meeting to gift Shishida whenever he has to bail early

Drinks coffee black, but still has a flask of vodka somewhere on her person “just in case”. Girl in case of what? Prohibition?!

It’s usually in a garter with pockets and she’s not above keeping it close by even when patrolling

The garter also holds a small pocket knife, lighter, and a pack of smokes

Says “vaping is for pussies” like acoustic lung cancer is any better than electric

Unironically has decor somewhere that says Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss 

Offers to babysit your kids, takes them for motorcycle rides around town

If they’re slightly older (like at least twelve or so) she offers to teach them how to drive it

Not technically legal, but she’s responsible enough that nothing bad has happened yet, knock on wood

Might have left your child in a locked car by accident oops

Puts up a sign that says “the AC is on, he’s listening to Kidz Bop and has his favorite snack”

Your kid could be eating cigarette butts off the ground and she’ll just shrug it off like “he needs the protein”

Child leashes have saved her ass so many times it’s actually alarming- but “if it’s stupid and it works, it’s not stupid”

Shit talks her boss on her break, but looks out for newer rookies that feel like they’re walking on eggshells

“Yeah no you’ll be fine, but if she vents about her divorce, just smile and nod- yes Kevin I know it’s uncomfortable, but you’ve only been here 3 weeks you can’t afford to make enemies”

The former 1B girls get together every year for a girls trip, and when it was her turn to organize, they all went to Vegas

Orchestrated a Vegas wedding between Setsuna and a male stripper

After arriving home and unpacking, found an inflatable doll in her luggage. Has no idea how it got there, has never even seen it before

Regifted it anonymously in a white elephant exchange at work just to finally be rid of it

The coworker never took it home, they just dressed it up and had it sit in the cubicle, directly across from Kendo's desk

It gets redecorated throughout the year depending on the season, haunting everyone at their computers with it's cold dead eyes like the ghost of girls' trip past

The most memorable was during June one year, when someone had taken the liberty of decking it out in booty shorts, a cheesy tourist shirt, sunglasses, and a disposable camera

Her friends think it's hilarious when they visit her at work, but they can't say anything to her coworkers bc they all took a vow to secrecy. "What happens in Vegas" and all that jazz

Let me know if you want to be on the tag list!

@thatgirlgames

[ceruleanmusings]

hey! i’m loving Inconsolable! I just have one question: What made you make Squid diabetic? Is there any lines in the source text? (I haven’t read the book in years.) I don’t mean this negatively, I’m just very interested in how fic writers make these decisions and what leads them to it! (:

hi there! thanks for reading my fanfic! it came at a good time, i'm working on getting the next chapter up this week!

there isn't any source material in the books about squid being diabetic, that's to say in canon he is not diabetic, and that's partially why i made the choice to make him diabetic.

compared to the other characters, we know next to nothing about him except for him being x-ray's right hand man/being seen as the "tough guy in d-tent", being upset about something (most likely that he doesn't have a loving mom like stanley) to the point he cried one night, and having shit parents. at the end he asks stanley to tell his mom that he, alan, was sorry for something. this was changed to armpit in the movie and it bugged me because it stripped us of the smallest glimpse into squid's life pre cgl.

squid is basically a blank slate. he has a missing dad, an alcoholic mom, and, as per the movie and it's deleted scenes, kind of dumb but also seen as tough. that's all we get. the fact that stanley yelnats' guide to surviving camp green lake stated he was arrested for breaking into homes to steal loose change and soda cans made me think "that's a very small reason to be arrested and put to labor" (ignoring the breaking in part). though if he was stealing that i thought "if he's stealing soda cans it must be because he's selling them for money." and then i thought "if he's selling it for money, he most likely is poor." and then i thought "if he's that poor then it's either because of his mom spending all his money on booze (which may account for potentially not holding down a job?) or there's another factor that's making them be short on money." so then i wondered what could make someone constantly short on money? medication. what medication is expensive (especially now)? insulin.

i then dove into hundreds and hundreds of YT videos, blog posts, reddit posts, and medical journals talking about insulin and it's history, how it was handled in the 90s, the effects if it's not taken properly, personal stories about how they manage it, and i had one reviewer on FFN give me some extra details to fix any mistakes i made in my portrayal.

it just made sense to me and how i see squid in my head. he's angry a lot because he has next to no control over his life. that's all he wants, that's his goal, control and agency. to live his life his way. not to have society telling him where he's supposed to be and where he's supposed to stay because of his (lack) of money, because of his alcoholic mom, because of his missing dad, because of his bad grades, because of his (terrible) friends (excluding mickey.) the biggest blow was being chained to life-saving medicine that he (technically) can't control either. it has control over him. (plus, it shows extra audacity for cgl to sometimes purposefully withholding squid's insulin as a form of punishment. especially from pendanski.)

once he finally reaches a point where he realizes that he can control how he reacts to those things and the outcomes, he'll grow and be headed in the right direction. it's taking him some time but he's getting there.

thanks for asking! i love when people ask me questions like this! i don't really ever get a chance to discuss my thought process and the choices i make for my fics, the behind the scenes as it were, so this was fun! if you (or anyone else), have any questions please feel free to ask!

[corvisque]

"Is that not all a little much?"

zevran understands that, technically, stealing is wrong or whatever. still. all of this over a bottle of booze that probably isn't even worth the price, much less the effort miss mika is ready to expend on its behalf. seems like a waste, to him.

... but, of course, he could have saved himself this headache by keeping his big mouth shut in the first place. this isn't the first time he's gotten himself in trouble by talking, and it certainly won't be the last.

(yes, he also could have followed the rules, but that is a lot like asking a tiger to change its stripes. physically impossible.)

"If I were to decline such a generous offer, what then?"

a cautious question, meant to suss out whether the pink haired schooler is able to back her threat. he's not quite stupid enough to just assume she can't.

"I feel I should be surprised that you stole something this expensive." And yet it seemed perfectly in line with her initial impression of him. Not that it mattered as trying to change someone's way of thinking usually ended up in failure. Especially one who was solely committed to living their life like this. A complete 180 to how Mika's days as a student went, minus the time she fell off the path.

"I do not intend to drink it. In fact I think I have a better idea for the two of us." One that she said with a rather cheekier smile then usual.

"Your drink will be confiscated as per the rules we have here. Furthermore after this party is over I'll be sure this bottle is secure somewhere that your tricks of the hand cannot get to. Tomorrow or whenever your schedule permits you and I will personally go back to establishment you took this from." A lot for one bottle of someone she didn't even know. And maybe a bit too far then just handing it off or letting someone else deal with it.

"How does that sound? My ears are open to any suggestions?~~"

[spaceorphan18]

Head Over Feet (1/14)

After Kurt and Blaine broke up the second time, they went their separate ways, living their separate lives in New York City. Fifteen years later, a retirement party brings them back together into each other's orbit, with surprising, for both of them, consequences. Are they able to fit each other into their already complicated and messy lives? And are these newfound feelings real? Or just echoes of a past relationship?

Canon Divergent after Season 5.

Ao3 Link

A/N: Yes, I know I have a bunch of other WIPs - and I am still working on all of them! But I’ve been so excited about this one, I just want to get it out there... 

Thanks to @snarkyhag for the beta. :) 

***

Chapter 1: Loser Like Me (Part One) 

Fall 2028

Blaine is dreaming.  It’s all fuzzy, but there are hands… familiar hands that are on him clasping his own, cupping his face, trailing down, down, down to where it feels good.  He begins to feel the warmth spread throughout his body.  He feels good, so good… Lips are against his, rough and hungry, he is enveloped in want, in need… He lets out a groan, letting the pleasure overtake him.  He reaches out, desperate for more, but as he does so, that good feeling starts to float away.  He makes a grasp for it, but it’s no longer there, and he is left cold and wanting more.  

And then his alarm goes off.  

Blaine wakes up hard as a rock.  He can’t remember the last time he had a dream about sex.  Maybe when he had been a teenager? Or possibly college?  But he doesn’t remember any of those dreams ending him with his dick actually aching to fuck something.  

He stares at the ceiling for a good long moment, thinking the urgency will eventually wear off.  He turns his head, slightly, to see the outline of his husband on the other side of the bed.  He doesn’t bother to wake Sean -- not that morning sex had ever been a part of their marriage.  They’re on opposite schedules; the show Sean is doing the costumes for is in the middle of its workshop, and if it gets picked up by a good producer, it could mean big things.  And Sean is cranky in the morning, anyway.  

Blaine can just as easily take care of himself.

He gets up, slowly.  The erection still hasn’t died down, and Blaine begins to wonder if this is even normal for someone his age.  Maybe he should call a doctor.  He laughs to himself.  Or maybe he should jack off and not worry about it.  

He moves off the bed, having to go around it to get to the bathroom.  In the process, he has to step over a huge pile of Sean’s clothes.  Blaine takes a moment to pick them up, and throw them into the laundry basket.  Two seconds, it takes.  Is that really so hard?  

The clothes also smell like booze and cigarettes, which means Sean has been staying out late with the company again.  It’s fine, they used to both go all the time to the afterparties and the clubs, but some time after Blaine hit thirty, he didn’t find them as enticing any more.  Something about feeling almost twice as old as everyone around him killed the spirit.

Blaine gets into the bathroom, turning on the light, and easily stripping out of the boxers that he wears to bed.  His dick is still throbbing to be touched, so he gives himself a few hardy strokes before turning on the water for a shower.  It’s weird, he thinks, as he gets in.  Sex used to be the a staple of his marriage but, as the years passed, he and Sean manage once a week if they’re lucky.  He hasn’t really missed it, or maybe he hasn’t noticed he missed it.  Because getting off with just his hand doesn’t normally feel so good.  

He indulges a little, thinking about that dream, and those hands on him.  Letting someone else take over, take control, take him apart.  He thinks, at first, of Sean, pulling from the catalogue of their sex life.  Sean being the one to hold him, and stroke him, and suck him down.  But as much as he tries to concentrate on his husband, the scene keeps pulling away, and there’s someone else there -- a faceless man with deft hands who knows exactly how Blaine likes to be touched.  

He speeds up his hand, and yet somehow it doesn’t feel like enough.  He braces himself against the tile of the bathroom wall, fucking furiously into his hand until his hips take on a life of their own.   Eventually he comes, jolting hard into his hand.  The orgasm tears through him, and he lets out a near scream that he hopes doesn’t wake Sean.  

It takes a moment to come down, and he leans against the tiles, enjoying the blissed out feeling as the hot water sprays over him.  He’s not sure what had brought all that on but he does feel more relaxed.  He’s been too pent up lately.  Maybe he does need to start seeing his therapist again…

***

On Wednesdays, Blaine only teaches one class and he is back home by noon in time, usually, to make himself lunch before heading out to do afternoon errands (or stay in and grade papers).  Before the workshop started, he and Sean would usually make Wednesday nights their together time.  But those have faded away over the past year or so.  Blaine has gotten used to spending the evenings alone, to the point that when Blaine arrives back at the apartment that afternoon, he’s startled to see Sean there making himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  

Sean stands against the counter, chewing the sandwich slowly as he watches Blaine put his bag and coat on one of the kitchen table chairs.   “You okay?” Sean asks, taking another bite.  A bit of crust lands in his red beard, and he brushes it off and onto the floor.  Blaine shakes his head, now he understands why the floor is always so filthy.  “You’re looking at me as if I’m a stranger in the house.”

“No, it’s fine,” Blaine says.  Maybe it’s not.  It feels, weirdly, like an intrusion on his private time, but the thought is laughable.  His husband is home -- he should be happy.  Blaine begins to rifle through the fridge, pulling out a container of tuna fish to have for lunch.  They could eat together, at the table, like civilized people.  “What happened with the workshop?”

“Remember me telling you about Ashleigh and Karyn and their obsessive ambition to be the first to win a Tony? Or whatever the fuck they’re actually looking for.”

“Yes.” No? Maybe? He can’t keep all of the cast members of Sean’s show straight.  But Blaine doesn’t really feel like listening to a who’s who tangent.  He finishes making the sandwich as Sean explains further.  

“Well, I don’t know how it started, but I know how it ended -- with the both of them in the hospital,” Sean says.  “So with both the lead and the understudy out, the workshop is on hold for a little while.”

“Wait, who was the lead again?” Blaine asks.  Sandwich made, he grabs some chips from the pantry and a bottle of water and heads to the kitchen table.  Sean follows him, leaving his now empty plate on the counter, before taking his usual seat across from Blaine.  

“Karyn,” Sean says, stealing some chips from Blaine’s bag.  “The blonde.”

“Right.”

“So, I guess you have me home for a while.”

Blaine plasters an immediate smile to his face.  He’s not entirely sure how to feel, though.  “Are you still getting paid?”

“Yeah,” Sean grabs more chips.  “Marv’s gotta girl lined up in case it takes longer.  Shouldn’t be more than a week.”  

“Ah.”  

Sean taps his fingers on the table.  Blaine sips from his water bottle.  There’s a siren outside somewhere, and the upstairs neighbor’s dog sprints back and forth, causing the ceiling to creek.  

“I paid the water bill,” Sean says after a long moment.  

“Great,” Blaine says.  “I still say we should get reimbursed for the neighbors tapping into our pipes.”  

“I’ll talk to Greg about it.”

“Great.”

Blaine eats his sandwich in a strange sort of silence as Sean watches him.  He feels like they should talk about something.  What do they usually talk about these days? Work? The apartment? The new musical mini-series Netflix put out?  Sean doesn’t ask how Blaine’s class went.  Blaine doesn’t offer to talk about it.  Nothing really feels like a good conversation.  

Which is why Blaine decides to mention it… “So, I had the weirdest dream last night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it was some kind of sex dream,” Blaine says, licking the tuna from his fingers.  “I woke up hard as fuck.”

Sean gives a smirk.  “I can’t tell if this is your way of telling me you want to fool around tonight, or if you’re concerned and want to see a doctor.”  

Blaine laughs into his water.  “I decided I’m too young still to have dick problems, and jacked off in the shower.”  

Sean’s eyes go wide with amusement.  “Shame I missed that show.  If you’re still feeling it, we can mess around after lunch if you want.”

Blaine gives an unenthused shrug.  “I’ve got some errands to run.  Then I’m having dinner with Santana tonight, but if you want to catch the late show, it can be arranged.”  

“We’ll see,” Sean says.  “I told some of the guys I’d meet them out for drinks tonight.  There’s a new bar opening over in SoHo.”

A flash of irritation runs through Blaine.  It’s not the turning down of sex that bothers him.  He really doesn’t want to spend his evening at a bar in SoHo.  He really doesn’t want to spend the evening with Sean’s questionable friends ‘Way-Too-Flirty’ Don and ‘Drinks-Too-Much’ Steve.  He doesn’t even really want to go out, especially when he has to teach an early morning class.  But he’s not there to tell Sean what to do.  

He finishes off the sandwich without a word.  It’s not like Sean feels differently about Santana.  

“You know, speaking of Santana, that reminds me,” Sean says, getting up from his seat.  He goes over to the counter and brings back a red envelope.  “This came for you today -- from McKinley High.”  

Blaine takes it with interest.  He gets mailers from Dalton Academy all the time -- even if he didn’t graduate from there, he had still technically been an alumni.  But something from McKinley?  That just seems weird.  It isn’t the right time for there to be a reunion.  He has no idea what it could possibly be.  

He opens it up to find a black and gold invitation. “Oh,” he says a little fondly as he reads it.  “My old glee club teacher is retiring.  He’s inviting everyone back for homecoming weekend to celebrate.  Cute.”  

Sean grabs at the paper after Blaine lets it drop back to the table.  “Do you want me to come with you?” he offers quietly.  

“Would you want to go?” It’s not often that Sean comes with him on the rare occasions he heads back to Ohio.  

Sean hesitates before he speaks, and snacks on another couple of chips before replying.  “I probably should stay to make sure Marv has a handle on this whole Ashleigh-Karyn thing.  That is, unless you’d like me to go.”  

Blaine stares hard at the paper.  It’s not like he couldn’t go.  He doesn’t have to teach on Fridays, and the school is having a holiday weekend that same weekend.  In theory, he could and it wouldn’t be a problem.  “I don’t even know if I should.”

“Maybe go to see your parents, Blaine,” Sean says.  “It’s got to be at least a few years since you’ve seen them.”

“I saw them last year at…” Blaine considers.  Has time really flown by so quickly? “Huh, I guess it has been at least two since that Christmas we spent in Ohio.” He sits back in his chair to think about it.  

“Hey, Blaine…” There’s suddenly a heaviness in the air.  There’s something behind Sean’s eyes that hadn’t been there earlier.  Something that Blaine catches glimpses of every once in a while.  Something that they’ve been avoiding and, for a moment, Blaine fears that Sean is actually going to bring it up.  The room gets darker, just a cloud passing by the sun, but everything is still -- too still, and Blaine’s heart begins to race.  The moment passes, though, and whatever Sean had been about to say changes.  “I guess talk to Santana about it, and see what she says.”

Blaine stares down at the paper again.  Suddenly, a weekend away from the apartment, away from the city, away from Sean doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.  “Yeah, I’ll do that.”  

***

The fall wind is sharp in its crispness, but it’s still a nice enough evening to go for a run in Central Park.  Three days a week, he and Santana Lopez go out for a jog then grab dinner at a nearby taco truck so they can sit and gossip.  Santana, who’s office isn’t far from where they meet, is already waiting for Blaine when he arrives.  She is stretching her legs, bent over in a V, wearing her usual black spandex pants with a bright, blue bomber jacket that billows slightly.  Her designer sunglasses rest on the top of her head.

Because he has been thinking about high school all day, he can’t help but think that she hasn’t changed much.  Her face has hardened a little with age, but Blaine knows her beauty care routine is much more extensive than his, and he knows how much she spends on wigs and dye jobs.  Today, though, her long, black hair is pulled back tightly in a high pony, amusingly reminiscent of how she wore it in high school.  

“Okay, so I have some hot goss for you today,” she says, immediately after they exchange pleasantries.  She waits for him to do his own stretching, but continues to launch into her news.  “So, you remember how I’ve been endlessly talking about the cute redhead on the floor below?”

“The one who works as a secretary for the greasy lawyer?” Blaine pulls his leg back.  The stretching feels nice, he is glad he is able to get out of the stuffy apartment in some capacity tonight, even if he can tell Santana is a bit more ramped up than usual.  

Santana nods.  “So for weeks now, it’s been flirty glances, and unbuttoning buttons to show off some pretty pricey brassieres, but you know, nothing direct.  Well, today she comes up to my floor, claiming the bathroom is not working in their offices -- and I checked, she was totally lying -- and she’s wearing this tight, and I mean tight, nearly see-through button-down.  With no bra.  She had on no bra.  I could see her fucking nipples, Blaine.”

“The nerve,” Blaine teases.  They begin to walk down their usual path.  They have a good quarter of a mile before they usually start jogging, though they might go the first half of their two miles at a walking pace just so Santana could release her pent up energy verbally.  

“Who doesn’t wear a bra in a professional setting?” Santana continues.  Blaine arches an eyebrow at her.  “Okay, so I have totally done it, but I promise you it was warranted.  Anyway, I think she’s trying to kill me.  I took all of my restraint not to pull her directly into the janitor’s closet and make out with her.  And play with her tits.  I can’t unsee her fucking hot tits, Blaine.” Santana grumbles, putting a fist to her head, as if it’ll magically erase the image.

“You know, you could ask for her number,” Blaine suggests, for maybe the third time since Santana has started talking about the woman.  “Or, you know, find out her name.”  

Santana looks at him sharply.  He knows, she just wants a minute to bitch and revel in her janitor closet fantasies, but it’s not in him not to offer suggestions.  “Her name is Liz.  I at least found that out today.”

“Well, that’s a start,” Blaine offers.  

“Alright, what’s up with you?” she asks abruptly.  “Usually, you’re talking my head off about school, and I’m always having to catch up to you.  You’re trailing me by nearly a foot.  Something’s going on.”

Santana’s senses are rarely off, he shouldn’t be as surprised as he is by it.  He tries to quicken his pace but she is right, he is been in his head all day.  “I’m thinking of going back to therapy.”  He says it simply, laying it out as if it’s another fact, and not something that’s been weighing on his mind.  

She gives him a concerned look.  “Is this a ‘just you’ thing? Or a ‘you and Sean’ thing?”

“A ‘just me’ thing,” he admits.  They are nearly at the lamp post where they usually start to jog, but he’s not feeling as up to it as he had been when he arrived at the park.  “Sean’s staying home for a few days, and I’ve been restless lately…” he doesn’t quite say the things he’s thinking.  “And, I don’t know, I had a weird sex dream this morning.  I’ve been off all day.”

“Well, what does Sean think?”

“He offered to fuck, but I told him I had it taken care of.”

“What, no, not about the sex dream,” Santana stops in her tracks.  They have to wait a moment for an older woman walking a doberman to pass in-between them.  “What does your husband think about you going to therapy?”

“It didn’t come up.”  

“God, Blaine,” Santana says, exasperated.  “Well, if you really would rather spend your evening with me than reconnecting with your husband who is, as you well know, built like a fucking viking, then maybe therapy is what you need.”

It’s more complicated than that.  She knows some of it, but maybe not all of it, and it’s more than Blaine would really like to get into on their fairly public walk through Central Park.  But Santana has also grown to be one of his closest friends and, if nothing else, he can confide in her.  

“I’m going to set up an appointment,” he tries to play it off as just another thing.  She knows better, and gives him one of her infamous staredowns.  “And if it’s something I think I need to continue to do, I’ll keep you informed,” he tries to assure her.  

“You better, Anderson.” Her voice is sharp.  “I may have a cold, dead heart, but I want you to be happy.  And you know I’m always going to be blatantly honest with you, so I say this with all the love I can muster, but I don’t think you are.”  

“I know, I know…” He’s not not happy.  He loves his job.  He loves his little apartment.  He loves being in one of the greatest cities in all of the world.  He and Sean are…  “So, hey, did you get your invitation to Mr. Schue’s retirement party?”  He begins to walk again.  He knows he’s avoiding the conversation, so does Santana.  But she rolls with it.  

“He’s retiring?  Dear god, he’s barely over fifty.”

Blaine lets out a little laugh.  “Well, that’s what the invitation said.”  

“And, fuck, no, I haven’t gotten one,” Santana says.  “Though, it’s been a couple weeks since I’ve checked the mail.  Who sends invitations through the mail these days?  Just start a text chain like a normal person.”

“Would you go?” He asks.  He’s been back and forth on the idea all day.  Does he really want or need to see anyone from high school again?  Possibly?  Would it be nice to get away for a weekend? Most definitely.  Can he really afford to skip town for a little while? That is the big unanswered question.  

Santana bites her lip, thinking it over.  “I mean it really depends on who else got these magical invitations.  Oh, god, will Rachel Berry be there? Please tell me Rachel Berry will be there.  Because I have got to see how little Miss TV-Princess does in a place that does not revolve around her ego.”

Blaine has never had the issues with Rachel that Santana had, but he does remember college.  He does remember Funny Girl.  “Sorry, Santana, I don’t actually have an answer for you on that one.”

Santana throws her hands in the air.  “You keep in touch with everyone, right?  Well, isn’t she part of everyone?”

“I think she’s become a little out of my status level,” Blaine replies, with a smirk.  “Besides, I don’t keep in touch with everyone .”  Truth be told, Santana might be the only person he talks to from high school.  At least on a regular basis.  For all the promises made during the time of staying BFFs forever, real life managed to get in the way of the magical thinking.  

“Alright, let’s work it out, right now, cause this will be the determining factor,” she says.  She pulls at a leaf from one of the trees above her, causing the branch to bounce.  It nearly whacks him in the head, which causes her to giggle a little and shake her head.  “Let’s see… Rachel Berry, possibly.  Said ego might drive her back to the place where it all began.”  

“Sam Evans will probably be there,” Blaine says.  “He does still live in the area.” He and Sam don’t have a lot of contact, but occasionally they’ll do a long distance Fantasy Football thing or chat about a new video game they both own.  He hopes Sam will go - he could use more of that laid back charm in his life.  

“Artie clearly won’t be,” Santana continues.  “I know, because I’m the one who put him on the European press tour for his new film.”

“I doubt Tina will be there either,” Blaine adds.  “She just had her third baby, and she and Ron probably don’t want to make the trip from Boston to Lima with three young children.”  

He thinks of Tina’s Instagram, the only way he really communicates with her, and the constant updates for her hectic life.  She’s happy and looking good, and way too busy to drop everything and run back to Ohio.  Blaine makes a note to give her a call at some point to congratulate her formally on the new baby, even if he had already left a cute note on the Instagram pictures.  

Santana is too caught up in her thought process to say more about Tina.  “Finn won’t be there for obvious reasons.  What the fuck happened to Puck? I doubt he has an address to even send anything to.  Quinn’s too prideful to drag her divorced ass out of Connecticut.  You know she’s already taken a new lover ?  She’s in her mid-thirties, and still hitting up the sugardaddies.  I mean, have some goddamn respect for yourself.”

“Well, Mike’s in Chicago,” Blaine offers.  Mike had been part of the Chicago Ballet for a long time, and had since become a dance instructor.  Blaine had been at Mike’s wedding to his wife, Marie, a couple of years ago, and he’s another one whom Blaine wouldn’t mind seeing again.  Maybe he, Mike, and Sam could have a nice guys’ night out that weekend.  He’ll have to get in touch.

Santana nods.  They walk by a woman sitting on a bench with two screaming children.  Blaine feels bad for the woman, but he and Santana share a look -- both of them glad that they don’t have to deal with that kind of hot mess at home.  

“Then there’s Mercedes,” Santana says, looking up and out into the world.  “Goddess among women.  We do not have the privilege to be in her presence.”  Santana laughs at her own comments.  “Seriously, though, I love my girl, but I don’t judge her for continuing to live her best life.”

“What about Brittany?” Blaine asks, tentatively.  He has no idea if this is a sore subject for her or not because he doesn’t think Santana has brought her up once over the course of their friendship.  

Santana becomes stoney-faced, as if not to give herself too much away.  “No,” she says simply.  “Brittany’s living in some commune in LA where she does Fondue for Two and runs a cat babysitting service.”  

“That’s a thing?”

“In LA it is.”  A fond smile climbs on her lips.  “In any case, as much as I am always up for seeing my girl again, I highly doubt she’ll be back.  I mean, we were still hooking up for a while the few times I made it out to LA, but recently she’s found someone a little more… permanent.  And before you go on pitying me, let me assure you, I am more than fine.”  She’s quiet for a moment as she reflects.  For a person who is almost always open about her thoughts, she’s decidedly reclusive when it comes to matters of her heart.  Blaine knows better than to try to pry it out of her. “Anyway, if we’re going to be upfront about exes, I believe there’s only one person left, if we’re not counting random chicks with mafia dads or weird Irish exchange students.  And I’m sure we both know that there’s no way in hell Lady Hummel is coming back to Lima, Ohio.”

“Oh!” Blaine says, as if it’s a complete revelation.  Kurt hadn’t even entered his mind, and it is surreal to think that his brain didn’t go there first.  

“Oh, please, don’t tell me you actually forgot about Lady Hummel and his heartbreaking ways,” Santana scoffs.  “Pretty sure years of therapy couldn’t undo all the trauma that did.”

She isn’t wrong, and she would know, because she helped pick him up a year after everything had happened.  But that’s the funny thing -- it’s not that he doesn’t remember Kurt.  (God, he remembers all of Kurt.)  He doesn’t remember the person he used to be when he had been with Kurt.  There had been a time when he would have shifted the Sun and the Moon and the entire Earth for Kurt Hummel.  A time when his heart had pointed in only one direction.  And a time so dark that when Kurt had ended it, Blaine didn’t know how he would ever move on.  

And yet he did.  

The person he had been is now such a faded memory he can barely remember what those feelings were like.  Kurt Hummel is just another name from his past, a person who, yes, helped shape him into the person he is now.  But long gone are the emotions once attached to that name.  Funny how things can change.  Someone could mean so much to you at one point in time, and yet after time…

“I didn’t forget about Kurt, clearly,” Blaine says. He grabs her arm, and loops his own through it.  The jog isn’t happening today, and he’s fine with that.  Some days, it’s best just to have the company rather than the exercise.  “I just think you’re right, unless Burt is dying or something.  But doubtful that he’ll return for a silly retirement party.”

“You almost sound disappointed.”

Blaine shrugs, and gives a smile.  He doesn’t know how he feels about whether or not Kurt will be there.  He hasn’t thought about him so long.  But he does know that after all this talk of the past, maybe he is ready to go back and see if anyone else is feeling the same way.  “I think we should do it.  Go back.  I mean, why not?”

Santana shakes her head.  “Oh, this whole idea sounds like the worst, but if there’s a chance I get to make-out with Quinn Fabray again, then I’m in.”

For the first time in a while, Blaine feels a little lighter on his feet.

***

Not a few weeks later, Blaine is on a plane back to Ohio.  

He and Sean talked it over and, while Sean had been technically free to go, they agreed that maybe it would be better if Blaine went himself; the unspoken dialogue being that space isn’t the worst thing they could give each other.  Blaine had not been able to help but be fidgety with his wedding ring during the flight but, intent on giving himself a weekend off from real life, he drowned himself in his favorite podcasts, and had tried not to think about his life in New York.  

The party is on a Saturday afternoon, but he’s there on Friday so to spend time with his mom.  They end up having a nice lunch together, and she takes him shopping.  She’s as feisty as ever, somehow managing to remind Blaine of Santana, and he wonders if she’s always been like that or if that’s a new trait of being in your sixties.  They end up FaceTiming with Cooper and the kids, and Blaine indulges his little nieces by singing them Disney Princess songs.  The whole day weirdly feels like the family they usually are only around Christmas time, but he’s in good enough spirits that he doesn’t question it.  

Later that night, his dad comes home, and they have pizza before his parents go off for one of their social benefit parties they often frequent, reminding Blaine of the old days when his parents were never home on a Friday night.  He doesn’t mind so much because McKinley’s Homecoming Football game is that night.  

His original plan had been to meet up with Sam since Santana’s plane isn’t coming in until tomorrow.  But Sam declined, stating that Mercedes Jones is coming late that night and she needs a ride from the airport.  Sam didn’t ask Blaine to come with him.  Blaine calls up Mike, who is happy to hear from him, and says that he will be at the party but is only going to make the trip to Lima once on Saturday.  He doesn’t bother trying to get a hold of anyone else, and ends up going to the game alone.  

Coming back to McKinley feels like going back in time, and yet the kids running around make him feel entirely too old to be there.  He half expects Sue Sylvester to pop out and start yelling at the cheerleaders, or Mr. Figgins to make some sort of half-time speech, but the world of McKinley has moved on, even if the campus has remained remarkably the same.  The game is fun, but kind of boring, and he’s not surprised when the team loses by seventeen points.  Still, seeing the array of alumni all cheering around him, he feels a strange sort of connection to the place in a way that he really didn’t when he actually went to the school.  It’s a bit surreal.  

Afterwards, not ready to go home to an empty house, he drives around for a bit, until by chance, he drives by Scandals, Lima’s decrepit excuse for a gay bar.  Feeling somewhat amused, a little nostalgic, and a lot in need of a drink, he decides to grab a beer for old times’ sake.  He decides, on a whim, to put his wedding ring in his pocket.  He’s not actually planning anything, but it’s also not like Sean wears his anymore, anyway.  

Scandals is even more in a sad state of affairs then he remembers, even if ‘Funk-It-Up-Friday’ is trying to give the place some of that Mid-Western Charm.  He orders a bottled beer, and sips as he thinks fondly about the time he watched Dave Karofsky try to line dance.  God, that had been so long ago…

“I’m guessing this place rarely sees a man as gorgeous as you.  Mind if I buy you a drink?”

It takes a moment for Blaine to realize the pick-up line is directed at him, but he does instantly recognize the voice.  Much to his shock, when he turns around, he’s face to face with a much older, and yet still dazzlingly magnificent, Kurt Hummel.

[whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst]

Texts from the Lost Tomb, part 5.4

I swear folks once I get this and the last part up I’m gonna condense it all

But yeah couldn’t resist some <3

Zhang and Wu Chat

Wu Xie: Um. I’m all done with the shower if you want a turn.

Zhang Qiling: I’m alright without one.

Wu Xie: sooo are you pissed at me still?

Zhang Qiling: ? I have not been angry with you since the ladder incident.

Wu Xie: you’ve barely said anything since the necklace thingy

Zhang Qiling: I believe it is a long-running joke amongst my friend group that I do not, in fact, say much.

Wu Xie: okay but there are multiple gouges in the tea house walls that would suggest you had somewhat strong feelings today

and I kinda caused the events that sparked said feelings

so just checking in you know

Zhang Qiling: I was not angry so much as I was afraid. More afraid than I’ve been in a long time.

Wu Xie: ??? But it has worked out fine??? Everyone made it out alive and Uncle Erbai gets to feel morally superior to the Zhang family for a while so today was a win overall

Zhang Qiling: I heard you scream. I didn’t know what had happened. I couldn’t get to you right away. Therefore, I was afraid.

Wu Xie: ohhhhh. oh, Xiao Ge. It’s alright now—hey the necklace was actually helping u look out for me:) It’s not like those ppl were actually trying to hurt me, really. Your family isn’t so bad, at least you don’t have any uncles you know of

today was just some big misunderstandings wrapped in some poor life choices. Tbh my memoir title

I feel kind of stupid for screaming but when a glowing necklace wraps itself around your neck it’s a little uhoh moment lol

I did like the design tho def my aesthetic.

Zhang Qiling: I am pleased that it was able to protect you when I was not.

Wu Xie: Uh no you are not allowed to get all emo abt this it’s only like 3pm

damn time flies when it’s flashing before your eyes lol

Are you on the roof? You’re def on the roof. I thought I heard the tiles moving over my head. Come down or I’m coming up.

Zhang Qiling: I will be down in a moment. Do not come outside, it’s cold and raining.

Wu Xie: you know, Zhang Rishan said he thinks the necklace might be linked to you, somehow

something from long ago, even though you wouldn’t remember it.

It’s lucky that it liked me, huh:)

Zhang Qiling: Yes. Quite lucky.

Babysitters Club Chat

Wang Pangzi: AWW LOOK AT HIM NAPPING ON YOUR SHOULDER SO CUTE. BEBES HAD A BIG DAY. YOU TWO ARE PRECIOUS. BE GOOD AND POSE FOR THE PICTURE NOW.

Zhang Qiling: No. Also, I am considering what steps I should take with Zhang Rishan. Regardless of his concern for the Zhang family line, his actions were unacceptable.

Wang Pangzi: HES DROOLING A LITTLE ON YOU WHICH IS LESS CUTE BUT I CAN CROP THAT PART

LOOK I KNOW YOURE STILL PISSED. IM NOT EXACTLY CALM MYSELF, I JUST HAVE WAYS TO SKIRT AROUND TIANZHENS BULLSHIT FILTER THAT YOU LACK

GET ON MY LEVEL

WU ERBAI WILL HANDLE IT, THINGS HAVE SETTLED I THINK

BUT ABOUT THAT NECKLACE

SO INTERESTING HMMM

Zhang Qiling: I am the patriarch of my family. The necklace behaved as I would, apparently, to protect a vulnerable family member. Wu Xie’s bad cold last week activated it, and it responded to a perceived danger to him today. Simple enough.

Wang Pangzi: UH HUH

A FAMILY MEMBER

THE NECKLACE REALLY SAID LOVE WINS

TOLKIEN COULD NEVER

Zhang Qiling: It protected him on a technicality. But I will not allow him to bear the burdens of my family ever again. It has taken so much from him already.

Wang Pangzi: YEAH SURE BLAH BLAH DESTINY BLAH BLAH ANGST

“A TECHNICALITY” WOW WHO SAID ROMANCE WAS DEAD

ANYHOO IM SCREENSHOTTING THIS FOR UR WEDDING RECEPTION SLIDESHOW

YA KNOW DURING MY SPEECH

Friends of Wu Xie Support Group Chat

Hei Yangjing: you’re welcome for everything today<3 I accept PayPal, although of course it is always my honor to assist my friends:)

Wang Pangzi: WE ARENT PAYING YOU SHIT

Zhang Qiling: You did absolutely nothing.

Hei Yangjing: whoa whoa maybe I wasn’t threatening family members or busting up load-bearing walls like some undying divas I could name but I totes helped

or at least I was there for moral support maybe?

Zhang Qiling: The only reason I knew you were there at all was that as I lowered my blade from Zhang Rishan’s neck, I heard the camera click and saw you were taking a selfie making a peace sign, angled to have the two of us in the background.

Xie Yuchen: I saw it on social media just now. The caption is “#greatdaycatchingupwiththelads #blessed”

Wang Pangzi: TBH KIND OF JEALOUS I DIDNT THINK TO DO THAT

Hei Hangjing: okay yeah you see Xiao Ge that is a modern kind of help I should’ve known you wouldn’t be aware

It’s called performance, you wouldn’t understand

it’s a ‘Gram thing

Also it means I’m a great person

Bc letting you handle the situation was my gift to you

Zhang Qiling: Wu Xie mentioned there is something called “blocking ppl” that gets them out of my phone.

Hei Yangjing: nah

Can’t trust that Wu Xie, bae can’t tell a coffin from an urn amirite

it’s not a thing, blocking

Xie Yuchen: It is a thing. I’ll show you later, Zhang Qiling.

Wang Pangzi: YOU BOYS GO GET CLEANED UP AND COME BY AROUND 9 I SNAGGED SOME OF ZHANG RISHANS BOOZE ON THE WAY OUT

Bonnie and Clyde Chat

Hei Yangjing: you looked pretty comfortable in those handcuffs earlier ;););)

Xie Yuchen: Go to sleep, idiot.

Hei Yangjing: You’d have to do something to tire me out ;););)

Xie Yuchen: Are you like this around Wu Xie? Not that I care, I’m just asking.

Hei Yangjing: uh that’s a big nope

First off all Idk when I’ll die but Id prefer it to be on my terms and not at the hands of those other two

Secondly there is a part of me that remembers how adorable he was when he was younger and that makes it weird

(No offense but u were not adorable. He was bebe luke skywalker, you were bebe princess leia I am obvs Han Solo 4lyfe)

Also I’m a little scared that if i flirted with him and he flirted back he’d be better at it.

Xie Yuchen: All valid concerns.

Hei Yangjing: as cute as he is I don’t really wanna tap that.

Xie Yuchen: I see.

Hei Yangjing: do you tho

Main Chat

Wu Xie: okay folks who wants cocoa to top the evening off? I picked some up today:D

Wang Pangzi: UH YOU SPENT YOUR DAY BEING KIDNAPPED AND PLACATING A SENTIENT NECKLACE WHEN DID YOU HAVE TIME TO GET GROCERIES

FRANKLY THATS INTIMIDATING

Wu Xie: the tea house gift shop:)

Wang Pangzi: …YOU BOUGHT COCOA FROM YOUR KIDNAPPERS. FROM THEIR GIFT SHOP. DURING YOUR KIDNAPPING.

WU XIE

WU XIE WHY

Wu Xie: I mean we were there the whole day, it felt impolite not to buy anything.

Wang Pangzi: OH RIGHT GREAT POINT ID HATE TO BE RUDE TO THEM AFTER THEY WENT TO THE TROUBLE OF ABDUCTING US

LISTEN WHEN PPL STEAL YOU IT BECOMES FREE REIGN ON THEIR SHIT

UGH YOU PROBABLY GOT A RECEIPT AND EVERYTHING

WAS UR LITTLE SHOPPING TRIP BEFORE OR AFTER THEY STUCK U IN A DUNGEON TO EXPERIMENT ON YOU

WAIT NVM I DONT WANT TO KNOW THE ANSWER TO THAT

Wu Xie: look, let’s focus on the positives/ we are all okay, and we learned something new, that necklace is still active! It’s really quite nice-looking when it isn’t moving of its own volition.

Wang Pangzi: YOU AND YOUR RELENTLESS DUCKING OPTIMISM

ZHANG QILING ARE YOU SEEING THIS

Zhang Qiling: I would love some cocoa. I’ll come to the kitchen.

Wu Xie: I have special marshmallows for you!!

Wang Pangzi: I SEE

WE ARE SUBSCRIBING TO THE PRESTIGIOUS “FUCK IT WHY NOT” SCHOOL OF THOT TONIGHT

LOL SURE LETS GO COCOA IT UP

IVE GOT SOMETHING STRONG TO POP IN IT

Wu Xie: Still thinking about that design… I’d love another chance to examine that necklace under less Zhangy circumstances.

Kinda sad we couldn’t borrow it to use for illnesses and dangerous missions :/

ah well it’s for the best, a family heirloom should be treasured, preserved and protected<3

Zhang Qiling: I put it on your dresser.

Wu Xie: ???????

Wang Pangzi: AND THATS WHY YOU AND I ARE FRIENDS, XIAOGE <3

Wu Xie: I—

Zhang Qiling: Are those bunny-shaped marshmallows for me?

[mickey-millagher]

“If I could have everyone’s attention.” Lip called out across the Alibi Room, the patrons and celebrators of Ian and Mickey’s first wedding anniversary ignoring him, in favour of keeping their attention on their booze, or each other in the case of one particular couple.

“Hey everyone shut the hell up, I’ve got something to say.” Lip tried again yelling at the top of his lungs this time.

“What the fuck Lip?”

“What’s so important?”

“Jesus you trying to burst eardrums or something.”

Lip cleared his throat.

“So a year ago today my little brother got hitched. As you all know I was Ian’s best man.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Shut the fuck up Kermit.”

“Anyway,I didn’t quite manage to perform my best man duties with an awful speech. So I thought it was time to rectify that mistake.” Lip finished, pulling the pages of his written speech down, throwing a shit eating grin at his brother who seemed to have resigned himself to whatever was awaiting him.

“Ten years ago I sat in a stolen car with a fifteen year old Ian, waiting for our wayward mother to exit a DNA testing to see how easily it was going to be for her to steal our youngest brother.”

“Wait what?” Liam piped up before being quickly shushed by those around him.

“Ian seemed upset that day, I mean who wouldn’t right? Didn’t seem strange to me at all but when I asked him none of that seemed to even have crossed his mind. After a little probing I finally got Ian to admit what was actually on his mind, that he was banging out high schools biggest fag basher, Mickey, that he’d gotten him shot, and that he was planning on visiting him in juvie later that day.”

“You cracked after like a month? Jesus Gallagher does secret not mean anything to you?”

“Maybe if you didn’t keep getting shot I wouldn’t have.”

“Kept getting shot for your pasty ass.”

“You love my pasty ass.”

“Anyway.” Lip butted in before they went on any longer, he knew the two of them well enough to know how that one was going to end. “That was in 2011, Ian was a Sophomore, Mickey was still a Freshman I believe?”

His only answer was a middle finger.

“Romances that young don’t tend to last, I didn’t think much of it all honestly. But these two idiots don’t really like to follow expectations. Over the next two years I only heard little bits that made me think they were even still together. Then as it often does shit hit the fan, and Ian was suddenly gone. I couldn’t get him to come back home. But Mickey did, Mickey brought my little brother home and then promptly moved in himself. To Ian’s bedroom floor of course, had to keep up with possibly the worst kept secret in all of the South Side at that point.”

“Hey it wasn’t that badly kept.” Mickey protested.

“It was.” Debbie and Carl chimed in at the same time before side eyeing each other.

“Even I knew.” Added Liam, prompted a laugh from everyone who remembered the three year old boy from all those years ago.

Mickey grumbled as Ian laughed, which Lip took as his sign to continue.

“Now I still didn’t Mickey was good enough.”

He got a joint flipping off from the couple for that.

“He was loud, ate all our food, took my shit, and that was just in the few weeks he camped out on Ian’s floor. When you’re an older sibling, especially in the South Side, it’s your job to protect your younger siblings. Ian was my first younger sibling, the first one I looked out for, only ever wanted what was best for him. But I got so comfortable in that role that I hadn’t even realised I’d been replaced, by what was best for him. Really what I’m trying to say, what I should’ve said a year ago and probably should’ve even said eight years ago, if I could have gotten away with it without being punched out. Is I’m glad you’re part of the family Mick, and I think you’ve been part of it for longer than I realised. Also glad you’re back permanently now, should stop Ian from getting PTSD again from any more encounters with—”

Ian shot up.

“Great speech Lip, you know what’s a good skill? Knowing when to finish.”

“Hey I wanted to know how it finished.”

“No you don’t.” Ian called over his shoulder as he walked towards his brother, pulling him into a hug. “You’re an idiot but thank you.”

“Had to give a proper speech, you’re my brother.”

Footsteps came close, signalling the brothers to pull apart. The glare of his girlfriend met Lip when he looked up.

“You told me you’d never stolen a car?”

“Is that really important now? After everything?” Lip asked in a loud whisper.

“Yes, you lied to me.”

“Technically we didn’t steal the car, Fiona’s boyfriend did and we just burrowed it from him.” Ian butted in.

Tami seemed to be contemplating that when a laugh to his side made Lip turn away from his softening girlfriend. Mickey had made his way back to his husbands side, Ian’s arm slotting its way over his shoulders.

“Real badass Gallagher, burrowing a stolen car, didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Shut up, almost ended up in juvie for that shit.”

“Yeah that would’ve been terrible.” Replied Mickey, wriggling his eyebrows.

The two of them seemingly forgetting they were talking to anybody else, Lip made a gesture with his head to Tami to leave the two of them to whatever when Mickey suddenly turned back to him.

“That was a err nice speech.” He said, rubbing his thumb over his lip.

“No problem.” Replied Lip, beginning to walk away. “Just so you know I’m giving speeches at all your anniversary parties from now on, got years worth of unfortunate information.”

He didn’t look back but could hear his brother groaning behind him.

[e-m-p-error]

"I thought the label liked it when I was on the drugs. Sold more albums that way... There's a weird-ass uh. Chunk of my fucking fan club that apparently sent drugs to the prison for me. I got enough shit for it that they thought I was actually asking for it." He took a deep inhale of his cigarette, blowing the smoke back out after a second. He'd almost forgotten what this was like. He could breathe again, "Even with the withdrawals, I wasn't stupid enough to think that shit would work."

He knew a thing or two about the prison system, though, between his cousin and one of his little brothers. Maybe he couldn't still call Rico little, not being twenty-four and pushing six feet tall, but... Well. Rico would always be his baby brother. Technically he called every one of them his baby sibling when they'd come around and he'd been able to.

Snorting as he leaned back again, he finally let his eyes trail around the car. It wasn't one of his, not one he recognized, anyway, and he had an unnaturally high desire to destroy something in it. Anything, really, just mess something up. He was already going to go stir-crazy if he was going to be put into a new prison.

He didn't think that the amenities of having a huge pool or four living rooms really mattered when all it was was just a fancier cage with more creature comforts. Creature comforts that he couldn't even take advantage of because he had a feeling that he was going to be forced to adhere to some bullshit twelve-step program.

Whatever booze he'd bring into the house he'd have to also take out before Manager Number Twelve got there. Last he'd heard, Darío was out of prison, too... Sometimes it really was about who you knew. Being married to a senator probably helped him more than it did her.

"Si, si, encantado, estoy seguro." Crossing his thighs, he pursed his lips as he stared out the open window like he'd never seen the world in color before.

"...You're not famous, are you? Housekeepers steal shit. When I was with Tony we caught one running out with our literal wedding photos. I don't know how to tell you that there's probably been all kinds of shit walking out of there and I won't know what Tony didn't take because I was in prison when he filed for divorce. We've been divorced for two years..."

Low profile? We?

"What was that 'we' thing for...?" Though the shark reference caught him as odd, his brow furrowed, but he let it fall to the side. He'd mostly heard lawyers be called sharks but piranhas were just as mean. Or... Something, "If you're gonna fuck someone up in my name, fuck 'em up good."

Pausing, he glanced at the other man, taking him in. Small, he was so small, and that immediately put a few thoughts in his head that he probably didn't need. It wasn't like he'd been aching for someone to fuck with in prison, he'd actually been rather popular with guards and inmates alike when he wasn't causing fights.

The need for solitary came when he just about killed one of his cellmates. Of which he'd had six in his three years being there.

"Makes sense. I don't think I'm in the mood to deal with them, yet... Bet they've been in my fuckin' house, too." It wouldn't be the first time someone broke in, but he hadn't been there to defend his castle.

Champagne wasn't really his preferred drink, but he'd take it if it was offered. The continuation of that sentence, however, made him scowl and he huffed.

"My history? I've been dry for three years, I'm ready to party. Let me guess, can't get high, either?" Well, definitely not. That cocaine habit he'd had definitely played a part in the beating of his ex-husband. Not that he'd accept that, it was that bitch-ass friend of his.

Despite what he knew about Anthony's sexual preferences, he had always assumed they were boning behind his back. Then again, he did like to make up reasons to cause problems.

The second he saw the cigarettes, however, the descent down the seat to put his neck against the bench was abandoned. He lurched to sit up straight, more than happy to see the Swisher Sweets cherry red packaging. Leaning over, he took it and set it between his lips, glancing up at Vox while he spoke.

"Wanna light me up, then? It's been three years. They gave me these nicotineless herbal cigarettes sometimes and I'm ready for some real relief..."

Another pause, and he grinned despite himself.

"I remember, yeah. Erasmo Martinez, but you can call me Era. Val also works, especially when I'm on stage."

[honesthammie]

Thought I'd start doing some prompts, im gonna do them all eventually but I'd thought I'd share some I've seen or thought of on my own with other writers that may need inspiration.

Look in the tabs for fandoms and characters i will do, hopefully.

1)"Look, I'm glad you've saved everyone and all that, but it's time someone told you to take care of you."

"I'm fine."

"No you're not, and furthermore, if you don't take care of you, think of all the people who need you in the future who won't have you!"

2) Reader accidently get sent to Hell instead of Heaven. The King of Hell tells you to make yourself at home while he sorts it out with God. Little did you realise how much you liked it there

3)"On a scale from one to ten, how bad do you think it would be if-“

"At least a twenty."

4) After reaching your 16th birthday you gain the ability to see everyone's red strings of fate and on your 18th you finally get to see yours, except yours dissappears into the ground/sky.

5) "What do you see when you look at me?"

6) Everyone is born with 2 tattoos that has a symbol on each wrist. One for their soulmate and another for their biggest enemy. The reader only has 1.

7)"Why are you still here?"

"Because I care about you, you asshole."

8)"Your hair is so soft.."

9) "It's too cold! Come back!"

10) "No, I'm not letting you go. It's too early to get out of bed."

11) "C'mere, you can sit in my lap until i'm done working."

12)"I'm not going to stop poking you until you

give me some attention."

13) "Shh, you're safe. I won't let you go."

14) "What? does that feel good?"

15)"Just pretend to be my date."

16)"He/She did it." "No he/she did."

17) "I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified."

18)“No no-it's alright, come here."

19)"I'm not going to leave you. You're never going to have to suffer by yourself again, I promise."

20) Everyone has a guardian angel. Except the reader. Something went wrong in system and now you're stuck with a guardian Demon. Fortunately, they seem more effective at helping you succeed.

21)"I love you from the bottom of my heart, but I don't trust your cooking. Stay out of my kitchen."

22)"I am way too sober for this."

23)"If I go through with this, I die. If I don't go through with this, we all die."

24)"Why are you doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"Treating me like a person."

25)"What the heck is that?!"

"My cat."

"Cats don't have eight legs!"

26)"Hey, I didn't kill anyone today!"

"What do you want? A gold star?"

27)His voice brought back memories of dark rooms and broken bones.

28)"Why do people keep trying to put this blanket on me?"

"Because you're in shock."

"That doesn't mean I need a blanket. It means I need booze."

29)"I can't believe you haven't killed each other yet."

"We shared a room together in (enter what type of school here). If we could survive that, we could survive anything."

30)"Sometimes memories are the worst form of torture"

31)"How do you destroy a monster without becoming one?"

32)"Why aren't you afraid of me?"

"Seriously? I have worse nightmares about failing my exams"

33)"What is that THING in your backpack?"

"It's my new pet dragon."

"Dragons aren't real!"

"Then why is there one in my backpack?"

34)"I had a thought."

"Oh no."

"I swear it's a good one this time!"

35)"Are you there?"

"Physically, yes. Mentally is debatable."

36)"Are you clinically insane or incredibly annoying?"

"I don't know, I probably both."

37)“Are you SURE I can't punch him in the face?"

"Yes."

"What if I just break his nose a little?"

38)"It's a long story."

"You conned me into thinking you were dead for eleven months. I have time."

39)"Death wants you to be terrified, but the scariest thing is wanting death."

40)"What's our exit strategy?"

"Our what?"

"Oh my god, we're all I going to die."

41)"How's the meeting?"

"I want to stab everyone."

"Don't get blood on your dress. We have dinner reservations at seven."

"Love you for enabling me."

"Love you too."

42)"What can I do to make you feel beautiful as as you look to me?"

43)"Once hope becomes a symbol, you cannot kill it. Give it a name, and it will never truly die. You have to dismantle it and let the world watch on as it crumbles in on itself."

44)"Don't you have a country to run?"

"My favorite person is in the hospital, the people can wait."

"I don't think it works like that."

"I rule over them, so it does."

45)"Are you really still a princess if your kingdom is in ruins? If there is no one left to rule over but corpses?"

46) Reader stealing lovers clothes

47)"How did you do that?"

"Maybe if you spent less time rambling you'd have figured it out"

48)"You-you are-"

"Beautiful, a genius, immensely talented"

"Dangerous."

49)"And if the world thinks it can keep us apart, then it hasn't been paying attention because there is nothing, nothing! wouldn't do just to I stay by your side."

50)Take apart every word I've ever said, strip me of every action I've ever taken. Then know, for certain, that mean it when I tell you I love you."

51)"Do you trust her?"

"No. but I ... trust her anger."

52)"I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you!"

"And I'm trying to subtly avoid it!"

53)"Where's your shoe?"

"The giant mud puddle demanded a sacrifice"

54)"People can do can worse things than kill you."

55)"Give my regards to the Devil."

"I will."

"And remind him that he still owes me fifty bucks for helping him out that one time."

56)"Hate to break it to you, but we're both someone else's science experiment."

57)"Timing is key"

"Says the one thats always late"

58)"Right now, I don't know if I want to kiss you or shove you off a bridge."

"Can I pick?"

59)"This? These tears? They are not a weakness. They show how strong you are and how strong you've been. And when you're done, look back and know that you were strong enough to overcome what you once thought to be impossible."

60)"Act natural."

"For this kind of situation, the most natural thing would be to panic, so technically I can panic."

"NO, that's not what I meant! Act like it's a normal day!"

"My 'normal' days of late, consist of a lot of panic."

"Will you just cooperate?"

"When a person is panicking, they are not apt to cooperate very well!"

[seancekitsch]

Powerplay: a Marko x Reader fic

part 3 of 3, previous part here

Warnings: harassment, vamp typical shit, cursing, death/killing, smut mentions, reference to the book

Marko was a good boyfriend, it turned out, except for when he wasn’t. You liked the sweet little kisses, the teasing way he snaps his jaw at you when you catch him staring, the way he holds you while you’re falling asleep even though he doesn’t have to.You like that he listens, more than your friends do. You rang another friend the other day, and were left waiting with the endless ringing again. You want to be upset, but they weren't as close as you were hoping they’d be. Your close friends were back in New York, three thousand miles and a year of working behind you. And they were Marko and his brothers now.

You love the way he keeps you safe, your protector being probably the deadliest thing you could encounter. You love the way he laughs, always joking and jovial. You always thought his smile hid a joke like some mystery, but now you're in on it too, and it's the funniest thing. There is no secret  joke, just Marko seeing the world with eyes full of humor. He sees the little things, and now he shows them to you. You love the way you can speak without speaking. Silence followed by heavy laughter, kisses, and understanding.

You even love that week you were on your period and every night he ate you out until you screamed yourself hoarse.

“Marko,” you’d say, “lets ride.”

And he would obey, letting you hop on the back of his bike, always after work, always too fast. You'd like to imagine him crashing as the wind whips your hair, stings your face. What that would be like, huh. It's what you assume he feels like when he flies, free and wild in the night. He caters to your every whim, makes you feel the happiest,  as long as the sun has set.

He was less a good boyfriend when he was hungry, brooding and refusing to get close to you. He would be irritable, pick fights, silent treatment. He would purposely leave you in silence, but he wouldn't ask for a taste, despite your offering. He respected you enough not to try that. Other times, he would make sure that you could hear every thought in his head. His thoughts sounded like shouts, always telling you to get the fuck away, always reminding you how vulnerable you were, how easy to kill you’d be. It's almost maddening. You never knew which nights he would be the silent ones, or which ones would be the loud ones.  

“Marko,” you’d say, “This is just temporary.”

You don't even have to think the words for him to know what you mean. Or those moments during the day when it's highlighted just how different he was, would always be. He would always be twenty and handsome and having fun, with a guaranteed group of friends. With a family he belonged with. You would always age, you would have to find something else to do eventually, and you would probably have to leave Santa Carla, because he wouldn't. You could always bore him, with Marko one day realizing you can't keep up anymore. You would always be weaker, and no matter how often Marko puts you first, he always holds the power. You’re only the decision maker because he lets you be. He could always take that power back. Find someone new when you get old and he stays the same age. He will always be this way, and you will always change.

It's those nights you think of pulling away from him, and you hope he never hears those thoughts. You love him, but he’ll always say it's not temporary. It's not true.

You love Marko today.

The jingling of the bell snaps you from your thoughts, head rising only to be face to face with one of the surf nazis. Huh, guess the boys didn’t clear all of them out. This one was tall, a skinhead with an upturned pug-like nose, wearing a lot of denim with eyes alight with mayhem in his agenda. Oh, please don’t fucking break anything.

“Hey Baby,” he sneers. God, his voice was even worse than his looks and his smell.

“Not your baby,” you deadpan, wishing desperately for him and his friends to leave without stealing or breaking anything forcing a sickeningly sweet customer service tone, “But what can I help with?”

Maybe good customer service will get them in-and-out quicker.

“That hot little body of yours could help me out,” his tone is outright mocking. God, is this how dudes like these think they can pull? You can’t even hide your grimace as you flinch at the words. If there was anyone else, just one other person working tonight, this wouldn’t be happening. You know this. Working nights alone practically invited this brand of harassment.

fuckfuckfuck. It’s way too early for Marko to be sniffing around, and if you can get them to leave the next four hours of your shift will be miserable. The man laughs, and it makes your blood run cold. He leans over the counter, past the little curtain of incense haze; breaching your only barrier of safety.

“I bet it could. Couldn’t it, baby?”

His large arms press against the glass of the counter and your eyes immediately flicker from them to the back room, where your knife is. He straightens up.

“Cat got your tongue?”

You frown, meeting his eyes now.

“Do you plan on buying anything we sell?” The Bauhaus record you have playing over the speaker skips, and you almost jump. It's just enough to break the tension, the rising bile in your throat clearing.

“I come in here for you, girlie,” and he affirms what you already know. Now that half of the surf nazis were gone, they were struggling to maintain their turf on the boardwalk. So harassment and torture at their hands were on the rise. Many people over the past few weeks had been dodging them in the stores around here, and now apparently they had caught wise to that. Done with it, you take a step back, leaning yourself against the back shelf to retreat further into the curtain of nag champa.

“You can fuck off,” you offer, gaining confidence as you realize the bong behind your head was more than affordable, and if you broke it over his head, you could cover it.

He opens his mouth to respond, but-

The bell on the door jingles again. A familiar smile fades into a scowl. Marko looks like one of those greek heroes tonight, maybe if only because his presence saves you from the gross comments (or anything worse) of the shaved head across the counter. He immediately distracts the surfer from you.

“Why don’t you get outta here, buddy? Me and the lady were just discussing me trying her out later,” the man spits, and you almost gag at the mental image of that.

Marko laughs, that high pitched full body laugh you love so much.

“That’s funny, buddy,” He throws the man’s nickname back at him, “Cause that’s my old lady right there.”

You loved and hated when he called you that. Technically, you are a year older than the year he turned. The first time you all realized that, Paul gave himself a stomach ache laughing over the ‘older woman’ Marko brought home. Tonight though, the nickname brings the biggest smile to your lips.

“Damn right I am,” you chime in, “and you couldn’t take the hint.”

Marko seals the deal by striding over to where you are and pulling you into a kiss over the counter. It doesn't take much more for the surf nazi to leave, the jingling of the door opening announcing his departure.

“I’m gonna make sure we kill the rest of them before the week is out.”

He waits the three hours it takes for you to be able to lock up behind the counter with you, loosely holding your hips and following you around, only moving away from you to pick out new records when one ends. 

Come over tonight, Marko thinks, and you know it isn't a suggestion. You kiss him hard on the mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him to press against you. His arms automatically find themselves around your waist, squeezing you as he eagerly returns the kiss. This wouldn’t be your first time at their dilapidated hotel, with sprawling caves and chandeliers and beautiful spray painted murals on the walls. The first time you were there, he brought you there while the others were hunting. He fucked you on any surface not covered with knick knacks they'd collected or takeout containers, leaving you to sheepishly blush while he proudly talked to the others when they returned, deep red hickies and a bite mark on your collarbone you couldn't hide. The next time, the boys and Star and Laddie welcomed you in with booze and a feast and a fun night where you had to crawl out of the cave at dawn looking like a mess. Either way, he waits for you to agree before he leads you to his motorcycle.

“Star, Why don't you just become one of us already?” Paul whined, holding his half eaten eggroll like a cigar, “You're already living with us, Mama. We just want to be friends forever.”

She scrunches her nose, smoothing the long hair of Laddie’s head in her lap. The boy was tired, their unofficial little brother or not, he was still an eight year old.

“Or maybe,” David starts, dropping down from the rim of the check in counter of the hotel, “Star can just have some fun with them and we don’t even have to do what Max wants.”

The boys all laugh, Dwayne’s shoulders turning inward, while Paul smacks Marko in the chest behind you. Whoever Max was, he was someone that could give the boys orders; something you didnt think possible besides their own little group hierarchy. You'd figured out pretty quickly that David was the leader, Marko was his right hand, Dwayne was the left hand; with Marko enforcing, playful and impulsive, and Dwayne being the level head, logical and the one who often kept the boys from fighting and made them all remember why they loved each other so much. Paul was the baby. Both literally and figuratively. He was the messiest, the most likely to slip up;. He was also the one turned last. So when Star decides to be one of them, she’ll be the new baby. Then Laddie.

“No,” Star affirms, “No, I can’t do that to Michael.”

“Michael,” David tests the name on his lips, tongue darting out to lick them after he says it. The curly haired brunette on the boardwalk had a name. Then his eyes flick to you. There's a sharpness to them that feels so different from Marko’s. David is trying to stare through you, not to look inside of your head, to look past it, to see any weakness. A challenge.

“Who’s Max?” you speak up from your spot on Marko’s lap. You can feel him tense under you, but David smiles.

“You don't know about Max? Marko, you didn’t tell her about Max?”

Marko’s hand wraps around your wrist as David continues.

“Max knows all about you, y/n. There’s a reason you're here.”

Here as in, still alive in a vampire den, or here tonight specifically?

Mind thing? You think, and Marko leans his head down against your shoulder as he nods.

“So he knows Marko and I are X-men? Is he Professor X?”

You hear Dwayne and Paul chuckle from the other side of the circle, and Dwayne mutters, “Yeah something like that,” as he swats his hand at Paul’s mesh-covered chest.

“He sired us,” David clarifies.

“You feel it right?” changing the subject, “You feel like you need to be near Marko?”

Marko squeezes your wrist in encouragement, and you nod.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

“That's not what I mean.”

You know what he means. It's the way you feel Marko before you see him, the way you can never sneak up on him.

You nod again.

“That’s what Max wanted to know. Marko, do you wanna tell her, or should I?”

What does he mean? You think and the man below you perks up.

Come with me. His palms grip your hips and gently push you to stand, and he follows suit before taking the lead.

He leads you towards the mouth of the cave, where you enter and away from any listening ears.

“So you know how David is dating Star?” he asks, voice low and close to you in the shadows.

“If that’s what they’re doing,” you joke, and he laughs along with you.

“Well, he thought they had what we have, and that's why she’s with us.” He reaches for your hands to hold them, dropping any playfulness from before.

“I’m supposed to turn you, Max thinks. He’s a lot older than us, and he says some vampires have mates or something similar to that. Others they have some deep mental connection with. The guys… we can hear each other sometimes if we try hard, because we’re a pack. I don't have to try with you and that's why Max thinks it's different.”

Turn you? Like, capital T- Turn you? Into one of them? If he turned you, you’d never see the sun again; never feel its warmth. You’d have to drink blood, and human blood at that. You’d become a killer, and you’d have to keep killing. While you aren’t innocent, killing kind of seems like it would be a stretch for you. Some of their victims had to be innocent, but would your hunger corrupt your morals one day?

It's like he can see the wheels turning in your head, ability to hear your thoughts or not.

“Y/n, you don't have to. Fuck, this was dumb to bring up. David thought you were ready, but if you don't want to I won't make you…” He trails off, visibly a little more deflated.

But if you did, you would be on the same level as Marko. All of the insecurities you have about your relationship would just… stop existing. Your relationship’s expiration date would disappear, your fears about having to leave him or him leaving you would disappear. You'd have people and a place to belong and lover and guaranteed group of friends to be a new family.

“How does it work, Marko?” your voice surprises him, and in honesty, he brought you to the mouth of the cave to give you an out. If you wanted to leave here, leave him specifically, he was going to let you.

“You gotta drink, uh, vampire blood.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

You shrug.

“Are you sure? There's no take backs for this,” Marko’s voice is stern, unlike you ever heard it before.

Deadly sure, Marko.

He smiles, slowly like the moon rising in the night before it crescendos into the wide toothy grin you're so used to seeing.

Marko leads you back into the den of the cave where the others are hanging out.

Dwayne is the first to approach the two of you.

“Everything okay?”

You nod thankfully, offering him a smile.

Paul swoops in next.

“You better be tellin’ me you're joining the fam, chica!”

He tries to drape his arm around your shoulder, but Marko pushes him away playfully, both of the boys smiling.

“Let’s get this girl a drink!” Marko shouts, and the guys start up hollering and laughing.

Marko leads you back to where you had originally been sitting, his designated folding chair. He gestures to you to sit down, while he looks to David for something. Over his shoulder, you can see Star frowning as she watches on.

“Glad you got to talk it out,” David remarks as he hands a bottle of wine to Marko. Maybe you’ll be able to get used to his mannerisms in half a century. Marko hands off the bottle of wine to you, and your hands dip with the weight of it.

The wine bottle is bejeweled, another do it yourself project that the guys seem to love so much. It's heavy in your hands, dark and unseeing down the neck of it, but full. Marko crouches down between your legs, palms flat against your thighs as everyone waits with bated breath. You uncork the bottle, noticing the dark red staining on the cork, and knowing exactly what’s in it now. Two shaky hands bring the bottle to your lips, tilting your head back as you let the contents flow into your mouth, filling it. The ‘wine’ is thick, warm and salty but feels like it's already intoxicating you from just being in your mouth.

“That’s all Marko’s blood, you know,” David remarks, and you swallow deeply. All Marko. He drained his blood for you, weakened himself for you. Your eyes flicker to him, and he smiles up at you from his spot between your legs.

You smile back at him, widely, teeth stained with blood.

[hickeys-dickey]

Pls share your thoughts about the gays in THAT scene… I would love to read them!

Ahh you are too kind, I am but a little swiss cheese brain but I'll try my best to sum up my thoughts, I have too many! I wanted a chance to grab some screenshots too! I'm going to put a read more because this is a long one buckle up lads.

So obviously the whole punishment for Hickey is designed to humiliate him (I would imagine this is one of the reasons his punishment isn't explained to him, because if Hickey truly was a naval petty officer he would know, and I think it's another way for Crozier to essentially say "I see you" and not in a good way). The fact we're not shown the other whippings shows the importance lies in the scene with Hickey.

I've seen a bit of discussion about his charge of "dirtiness", which isn't listed initially when we see him being questioned by the Captains, and whether or not it alludes to homosexuality but on a quick cursory search it does seem to have been used as a euphemism where an outright accusation of sodomy would mean a death sentence. The way Crozier throws it out there, no doubt to heap the humiliation onto Hickey and add crimes to the list to cover the fact he added lashes on to the punishment essentially for a bruised ego (but that's another matter), suggests a whole lot of venom to the accusation. Hickey's pointed look at Irving and Irving's quick shift of his gaze down suggests they both know exactly why Crozier has listed this among Hickey's list of crimes, and Hickey looks furious for it.

But I think this is also ultimately where the panic begins to set in. Again, there are far greater minds than me who have made excellent posts about queer coded characters in the terror, and I think it's no surprise that most of them are the faces that are focused on in this scence. It is clear long before this moment that Crozier's leadership is lacking, and people have already begun to voice concerns fairly loudly. Tozer for one is livid in the wake of Heather being injured, and the marines have clearly started distancing themselves from both the officers and the men. I feel like this scene, for a lot of characters is a point of major shift in either allegiences or character.

Tozer and the Captains are the first faces that are panned to in this scene and I think the expressions speak for themselves.

Tozer is visibly upset/concerned after the first lash. I do think guilt probably has a part to play, in that is was him whole told Hickey where Silna was, and presumably approved enough of the plan to not rat him out to anyone. Again, very probably part of Tozer's anger at Heather being injured due to what he sees is Crozier's poor management. Fitzjames is stoney faced, but is also the only one looking. As a man who many have noted pushes himself to pick emotional scabs, I think it would make sense for someone who is also notably queer coded and stuggles with trauma to make himself look directly at someone being whipped for a crime he himself might commit. Crozier isn't even looking, whether out of suddenly doubting his harshness or simply triggering something in his own memory it's not clear. I think the end of this shot also speaks for itself.

(Fig 1. Three Concerned (very likely not straight) men contemplate)

The lads at the back behind Mr. Johnson are all looking Directly At the whipping as it is taking place. Interestingly none of the men at the front near the table are looking. This is the stewards, officers, and marines. Whether out of respect or also Concern at their own skins (I think every one of these characters has been addressed as being queer coded at some point, minus the marines who are all, except Tozer, fairly nameless characters).

I'm not a gifmaker which is unfortunate for this section, though this is what is gifed in the beautiful gifset by sashneeka I reblogged (x). Tommy is also visibly upset, whether because he knows Tozer was involved in the plot to kidnap Silna and is concerned for him and any of the rest of the crew who had assisted in someway or voiced support. Billy interestingly does look briefly, and sets his jaw after in a way that suggests he's trying to fight the guilt of being the one to tell Irving about the whole affair with Hickey to paint himself in a better light. It could just as easily be Billy there on that table being lashed, but he somehow rationalises it in his head (probably because Hickey is a little bastard) that he was right in what he did. He does look down fairly guiltily after this, so maybe he hasn't quite settled on an opinion. Jopson also looks incredibly concerned/unsettled, and interestingly looks at Hickey right up until the whip hits where he flinches, and not for the only time in this scene. From what we know about Jopson's past, though not at this point, it may well be he is remembering similar punishment/mistreatment and like Fitzjames looks enough to pick the scab open and flinch from his own trauma.

The closeup of Hickey shows the full extent of his rage and humiliation building, and as I think Adam himself said, they whipped something out of Hickey that day and let him reach this potential that lay inside him (to become an even bigger bastard). He's fully severed all ties and feelings of loyalty after this and it becomes full on train to manipulation station from this point. I have a lot of Thoughts about Hickey also (which I am sure you are all aware of) but I think there was some semblance of Hickey attempting to start afresh on this journey, or at the very least keep his head down and go unnoticed. The trouble is, he notices Crozier as a flawed man, and one not from the upper classes like himself, and his ego can't help but think we're not so different, that could be me with the right connections. Well surprise lads, its murder time now and he's gonna make this old man pay for not recognising initiative but punishing it. I do wonder if Crozier wasn't booze sick and rattled from losing even more men under his command, would he not have come down so harshly for someone clearly defying the Articles to do what he thinks is right and save the men (a la Crozier and his fuck you I'm directly contradicting an order and leading this rescue party myself).

Tozer gets another wee closeup here and again looks like he has resolved something in his head too. Most likely that he thinks Crozier an unfit leader, and admiring Hickey for having the balls to do what he did (Hickey also never reveals anyone else who came with him, and when he talks about Hartnell and Mason's part in taking Silna it highlights their skill and bravery and (he thinks) commends them to the Captain. It's probably the only time we see him building up and applauding others). He looks dead ahead here and seems to have a very steely gaze, like yep fuck it looks like I'm going it alone now. It is interesting that Tozer goes from this to notably disliking Hickey (both at the start and when they are packing up - "you've just given me an excuse to give a big shove". This might be anger at Hickey having caused all the issues with Silna after the fact when Heather gets killed at Carnivale), but still follows him in the end. Hickey has the ability to kill, manipulate, steal, basically do whatever needed for their group to get ahead, which means Tozer can be part of the group and not have to dirty his own hands. I think Tozer probably has a complicated relationship with Hickey, but he does fall for the charm hook, line, and sinker, and the fact he seems concerned for him here suggests how easily he is sympathetic to those he sees as being wronged.

Gibby getting Hickey's blood on his hand (ayy) seems to visibly make him blanch, and I do find it interesting that the shot then pans to Tommy as though they are looking at each other when they are stood side by side. The similarities between them maybe? (I've seen and reblogged a lot of discourse about Tommy loving Tozer, maybe another nod to no one being so different to the man on the table?) Irving doesn't get much of a close up in the rest of this scene but bless him he looks equal parts terrified and guilty (another man who has been noted as having a list of many things to distract from the Gay Thoughts like why do you need to distract from Gay Thoughts Irving?). He also has the Far Off Look of trauma about him, probably because he too could just as easily be on that table.

I have many many thoughts about the way Hickey turns to look (and fucking smile???) at Crozier next, which is when Crozier is looking directly at him and Fitzjames looks at him. Like if I were Crozier I think my fucking blood would chill, look at this man. Being humiliated and lashed still hasn't broken him, if anything he has just become fully unhinged and looks at Crozier as though to say "did you really think this would work?". I would also say, this man has fairly quite for someone who is at this stage something like 22 lashes in? Like what the actual fuck Hickey?? I fully belive Hickey to be a psycopath, and most of what he does in the beginning of the series is an attempt to stay hidden until they get to Hawaii and he can ditch the crew, but I think it is fairly safe to say he isn't hiding it any more.

And he knows this is going to make the men doubt Crozier - I can't do a proper search because I am using my work laptop atm, but I seem to remember reading that a punishment greater than 12 lashes required a court martial (probably why Little steps in to say so when Crozier orders his punishment as well as them technically being lost at sea), which would be another strike against him as a Captain. Not only that, but Crozier does seem to grant him some mercy in letting him only be lashed I think 23 or so times? Probably because the tension is fucking palpable in this whole scene and Crozier can either choose to claw back some sense of control on the matter, or deal with the consequences of many people admiring Hickey for what he has done for the crew and start a mutiny. I think this is the first time Fitzjames sees the damage Crozier is doing to himself with his choices as Captain, and is probably just as concerned at the look Hickey is giving him. He knows this has unleashed something in this tiny rat bastard too, and that he will become the physical manifestation of Crozier's self-destructive tendancies. Crozier perpetually comes to everything just a fraction too late to change anything - he never saves any of the men, only comforts them as they die, and a lot of this has to do with his own ego and bad decision making, and I think this is the first example here of the fact his actions are having an effect on others to the point it will be his downfall.

Anyway, to round it off, I think this scene really epitomises the notion that Hickey is a mirror to the rest of the men, and they see their flaws in him. Those who have questioned Crozier's captaincy look concernced knowing they too could be being lashed. They too would have tried to get Silna to stop the Tuunbaq hunting them. Those who are queer or queer coded know they too could be being lashed for it. Crozier himself sees his unwillingness to follow the Articles in him, sees his own insubordination, and feels what Sir John meant when he said his position afforded him deference. Hickey may as well be a metaphor for all the men being lashed, theres not one among them who haven't voiced wanting to do what he has done. Let them without sin and all that. This is make or break for who holds loyalty to the Captain, and the turning point for who is going where. I think everyone except Jopson, Irving and Fitzjames ends up in the mutineers camp, and Irving ends up killed and mutilated by Hickey and Fitzjames is scavanged by them. Theres not one of them that isn't haunted by what happened in this scene, and Hickey would end up being the death of every single one of them. The only one who remains loyal after this is Jopson, who thinks his care and duty to the Captain can outweigh his other sins. Fitzjames and Crozier have a stronger relationship once he recovers from his withdrawal, yes, but Fitzjames also keeps him in check now (I'm thinking of Edward Little being threatened with flogging again because of course I am), and it is another step too late for Crozier's self-destruction. I've seen a Hickey/Fitzjames Christ analogy on here before too, so I hope you'll forgive me in comparing them, but Hickey in this scene really does get punished for everyone else's crimes in this scene, and becomes a sort of Christ-like figure, reborn as a complete version of the worst of himself from the pain of being lashed. They whipped something out of him!! Anyway, that about sums it up!

[thiswasinevitableid]

For the meet-ugly prompts: #13, Indruck, SFW ? 👁️👁️

Here you go!

13: we make contact before trying to steal the last seat on the subway/bus/train and I end up in your lap and fuck you, I’m going to stay here because I’ve had a really long day and this seat was mine

The Phoenix Starport is a labyrinth, while technically made of chrome and touch-screens, is really made of lines.

Duck stands in line to show his ticket, to deposit his bags, to go through three separate security check-points and, when he gets to the section for the shuttle to take him to the Starliner, a fourth one because when your clients are high paying, you don’t want them getting blown to pieces.

He isn’t high-paying, he isn’t a seasoned space traveler, and he isn’t going to spend one second more on his feet than he has to. It’s been two solid hours of that just to get to this point. Unfortunately, every other passenger shares this sentiment. When the shuttle door opens a mass of lifeforms pile in, hunting for seats. Duck spots one, turns to sit, and finds it’s much fuzzier than it looked.

“Excuse me.” The creature whose laps he’s in reminds him of the pictures of Mothman scattered around his home state, “but this seat is taken.”

“Yeah, by me, because I saw it first.”

A click from inside the mothmans chest, “You are wrong. I saw it first, and did not foresee anyone being rude enough to use me in its place.”

Every other seat is filled, and it’s a fifteen minute ride to the Starliner. Duck crosses his arms, “you don’t wanna be a seat, you better get up.”

That earns him an annoyed chirr, “Not a chance.”

The shuttle ride is smooth, but his seat keeps prodding him with a clawed finger whenever he puts his weight on it. When they arrive, the two of them stand one after the other. The mothman shakes out his feathers, tosses a glare over his shoulder, and steps through the doors.

Unsurprisingly, the Sylvain Dream makes opulence seem subdued. There are rare flowers studding the fountain by the concierge desk, art from across the universe on the walls, and a sound dampening, shimmering carpet lining the hall to his room. He’s looking forward to some alone time; while all the suites at this level are technically two person, they’re so expensive that most travelers get their own rooms.

He keys open the door and comes face to chest with the same fucking alien from the shuttle.

“Ah. So we are in this timeline. Lovely.” The mothman says dryly, passing him to greet the bellhop who just finished scurrying up the stairs, “I see you have a message from minister Woodbridge. Kindly have someone reply and tell him that if it’s an emergency, they may contact me directly, but if the matter is anything else, they are to leave me in peace during my journey.”

“Yes, Seer Cold.”

“Thank you.” the seer drops a coin into his hand and brushes past Duck without another word.

Duck finally makes it past the entryway and gasps; when the people paying for his journey asked if he’d prefer forest, city, beach, or desert, he assumed it was some sort of vague theme. Instead, the carpet is lush, soft grass, there are flowers everywhere, and the furniture is all made to be woodsy and rustic. The bath and shower are like a mini water-fall and pool, his bed housed in a mock cabin.

“This is amazing.”

“If you are here purely for a leisure trip.” His suite-mate crosses both sets of arms, “some of us are being transported back to work.”

“Now look, this is a work trip for me too. You gotta admit this is pretty swank.”

“And an attempt to soften the blow.” Mothman mutters.

Duck rolls his eyes, decides this is not his problem to deal with, and goes to unpack for the month-long journey ahead.

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

For the first two days he and Indrid--which is what the aloof, perpetually touchy Sylph likes to be called--do their best to ignore each other. They’re stuck on the same dining schedule, which means Duck accidentally insults the alien by giggling when he sees him lick his dessert up with an absurdly long tongue. He makes it up to the next night by saving the pineapple soda delivered in their lunch basket for the Sylph.

On day three, he’s reading by the holo-fire pit when a white badge with blue writing dangles before him.

“Would you like to accompany me to the spa?”

“Uh….”

“Since I foresee you asking no, we do not have to spend the entire time together.”

“I, uh, I was gonna say sure, but was wonderin’ why you offered it to me.”

“Oh.” His antenna flick in a new way, “I, ah, they gave me two. I have no one else to go with and it seemed silly to let it go to waste.”

“I gotta wear anything special?”

“Since humans require clothes in all but a few scenarios, I suggest wearing your robe.”

The spa is just as elaborate as the rest of the ship, with cushy chairs and complimentary booze. The secretary hands them each a menu of treatments bigger than any Duck’s held at a restaurant.

“Sugar scrub….talon wax….rock massage. Do they mean hot rocks?”

“No, that treatment helps those with scales shed.”

“Huh.” Duck pokes his tongue in his cheek, “wish they said which of these were safe for, uh, squishy human bodies.”

Indrid reaches out a claw, tapping several on the list, “This ful massage would be good; you’re muscular, it will be nice to have those muscles tended to.”

“Oh, uh, thanks. Have been workin out more, nice to have someone else notice.”

The Sylph smiles, “you may also like the hair luxury add-on; I’ve always thought humans with salt and pepper hair should show it off.”

Before Duck can ask how Indrid developed that opinion or learned that slang, they’re ushered off into separate rooms. He’s scrubbed and rubbed until his body surrenders the last of it’s stress, the oils they rub on his skin and into his hair smelling pleasantly of pine and cedar. His session ends with one of the staff leading him to a small room covered in deep green marble, where he can rinse and dry off in his own time.

Indrid is in the same room, reclining in a chair with a sun lamp on his wings. They’ve been groomed, the feather straighter and smoother than this morning. Duck takes his first real look at them, notices how the black is iridescent and that there are two bands of deep grey on the inside close to Indrid’s torso.

He’s really quite stunning.

“I feel” Indrid murmurs, “as if we got off to a bad start.”

“You think?” Duck aims for a genial tone.

Indrid cocks his head, “Yes. That is why I said it. I, ah, I ought to apologize for my temperament over the last few days. I am so very fond of earth, of humans, and I’d hoped to be able to work there indefinitely. But Sylvain is in crisis, and so they need me near. Never mind that we have the capability to transmit messages quickly between planets.”

“What’s the crisis?”

“Our plants are dying or failing to produce the resources we need. The belief is that-”

“-it’s a leftover contamination or mutation from the earth plants that crossed through the gate before it was destroyed.”

Indrid blinks, then grins, “it is novel to be the one having their sentences finished. Yes, Duck Newton; the gate has been gone for over two hundred years, but both our worlds will feel it’s effects for many more years.” His antenna perk up, “you’re the one they’re bringing on to consult.”

“Yep. That’s why they gave me such a sweet deal on the trip; they know it’s gonna be fuckin exhaustin work. Even with all the other perks they’re offerin, I know a lot of folks didn’t wanna apply.”

“Why did you feel differently?”

He pushes to the other side of the little pool so they can be closer, “I spent my whole life in the town I grew up in. I love what I do, I love helpin forests stay healthy and regrow and I...I dunno, how often do you get the chance to go to space and see forests on another planet?”

“Once, if you are me.” Indrid closes his wings, clicks off the light, and offers Duck a hand, “and I am glad you will have the chance to do the same.”

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

“You know” Indrid passes Duck the plate of toast, “I am named for Sylph who was the second most recent seer after myself. He and I are the same kind of Sylph, and when my parents learned their mothling-to-be was the next seer, they decided I would be Indrid Cold.”

“Not gonna lie, people actin like your fate is set in stone from birth gives me the creeps.”

“Understandable. I would not admit this to the other ministers, but I am no longer content with reporting on the futures. I try to change fate when I can. In this way, I am also like the first Indrid Cold. He kept trying to intervene in disasters; that’s how he got seen when he should not have been.”

“Holy fuck, there really was a mothman!”

“Indeed. I also learned from his personal notes that he was so fond of humans, he ended up marrying one.”

“Damn” Duck passes him the sweetener for his tea, teases, “you share that habit too?”

Red eyes linger a moment too long on his body before Indrid grins, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

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

“You sure you don’t wanna swim?” Duck treads water in the green lagoon of some distant moon. The cruise is docked for an activity day, Duck having selected to spend it snorkeling and Indrid deciding to spend it with Duck.

“The wings are not built for it. Though the water does look pleasant.” Indrid lazily sifts black sand through his claws.

“You could wade in. It stays pretty shallow there” he points to a sand bar.

“If I get in over my head, will you come to my aid?”

“You know it.”

Indrid wades in, chirping as the waves hit his knees. When Duck next glances at him, Indrid is glancing right back. He’s smiling, soft and secretive.

“I am glad you picked this spot. The view is spectacular.”

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

They’ve hit turbulence a handful of times, all of which pale in comparison to the jolt that sends him tumbling out of bed. There are stabilizer controls to lighten the gravity in the room so they won’t feel the bumps as badly. But when he wobbles over, he finds it’s already up to the lowest it can be without him floating.

He stumbles to the window, the curtains shut against the vast universe. Is turbulence this severe normal? If the gravity doohickey isn’t able to help, maybe that means they’ve never hit a storm this bad.

Opening the window is a terrible idea; there’s no cause of the turbulence to be seen, and now he’s in a dark room staring into the depths of space, it’s so big, he’s so small, they all are, the forces of nature still have it in them to crack this ship like an egg, killing them all.

“Would it help if I said there are no futures where this storm poses a threat to us?” Indrid whispers from behind him.

“Kinda.”

“Would it help to see something breathtaking?”

“Wh-”

Indrid taps the glass, drawing Ducks attention to two massive, starry shapes, “Celestial whales. At least that’s the human name for them.”

“Holy fuck.” They remind Duck of Whale Sharks, but impossibly bigger, skin coated in thousands of star-spots, “how can they do that? I mean, obviously they ain’t mammals, but fuckin nothin thrives in deep space.”

“No one is certain.” Indrid sighs, happily, “isn’t it wonderful to know there are such things in the universe?”

“Yeah. AHfuck” He hits the wall as the whole ship shudders, “fuck, sorry-”

“It’s alright. It can be alarming when you’re on your first trip through the cosmos. I, ah, I have something that may help, if you’re alright with me touching you some.”

“Fine by me.” Duck follows Indrid to the Sylph’s bed. The seer sits cross-legged with his back against the wall and instructs Duck to rest his head in his lap. The points of his claws begin rubbing his neck and the base of his skull, Indrid humming at a low, steady pitch until Duck’s eyes start to close.

The pressure points are helping, he can tell by his loosening spine. But what soothes him to sleep is the repetitive reminder of Indrid there with him in the dark.

When he wakes up the storm is gone. His body is still moving, rising and falling in time with Indrid’s breath as he sleeps. He pulled Duck atop him in the night, and at some point must have wrapped him in his wings, since once, is still half-flopped on Duck’s back.

Seized with affection, Duck kisses his shoulder. When this earns him a happy chirp, he does it again, then kisses a cheerful path up to Indrid’s cheek. Red eyes open, sleepy and full of tenderness, just in time for the Sylph to turn his head and kiss Duck properly.

“What a lovely thing to awaken to.”

“No kiddin” Duck kisses him again, “fuck, Indrid, this is the weirdest goddamn thing to ever happen to me and I’m thinkin it might also be the best.”

Indrid hugs him close, “We shall have ample time to find out, if you wish to do so.”

“Hell yeah. But we only got a few days before we hit Sylvain.”

“Yes” Indrid kisses his nose, “but I happen to foresee Woodbridge ignoring my request for peace and sending me a message saying I will be working closely with a certain, visiting forestry expert.”

[hypnomicimagines]

could you do ichiro and no.4 of the kissing prompts? thank you!

Yamada Ichiro: 

4. An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose.

You were just friends.

Ichiro repeated the phrase over and over again in his head as he met up with you that night, ignoring how brightly your smile seemed to shine in the darkness and how uplifted his spirits were when you began to cheer him up. This job he’d been given had proven to be a tough one but he was nothing if not stubborn, enlisting your help to scout out a few places the elusive target might frequent. He had been worried about putting you in danger but with a ‘I’m not in danger if you’re there, right?’ you managed to convince him to take you along with him, promising to stick closely by his side so he wouldn’t have to worry about you wandering off.

The night club is loud and Ichiro can’t say he’s interested in anything else going on around him, ignoring the half-naked women, the booze, the smoke invading his senses as his eyes scanned the crowd. You were hard at work too, talking to the men at the bar with that same blinding smile you greeted him with, jealousy temporarily bubbling up in the pit of his stomach before he realized you were just friends. There might’ve been many times he questioned the whole ‘just friends’ thing but right here and now was not the place to do it, not when he had a job to do. A tiny voice in the back of his brain told him he was procrastinating, that the job wasn’t that pressing and he was just using it as an excuse to ignore his obvious feelings, but Ichiro had become quite an expert at ignoring the voice completely.

Your investigation takes you outside to the streets, you and Ichiro heading down the back alley you were pointed to, looking for the man who seemed more slippery than an eel. Ichiro had to be careful at this point, the minute the target knew he was being hunted he’d become even harder to find, which is why the minute the man started glancing over his shoulder Ichiro pushed you off into another smaller side street.

“Ichi?” You looked up at him with wide eyes as he covered your body with his, turning away from the alley and the target as they walked by. He was pressed up against you just like you dreamed about, hand planted on the brick wall next to your face to further hide your identity in case the person decided to look over. Should you do something to help? Pretend to be a young frisky couple to further blend in with the night club scene? You couldn’t just stand here like this without kissing him could you?

Ichiro’s feeling that same pressing temptation, the voice in his head growing louder than he’d ever heard it; this was just to convince the target you were no harm, right? And certainly not following him with any ulterior motives? Kissing you was just part of the job that Ichiro took very seriously. He can see it in your eyes, the pleading for him to just do it, to close the gap, but his body is moving on it’s own accord now without any say from the man himself. You think a chorus of angels might be going off in your head as he leaned down to kiss you, or perhaps that was just music from the club nearby, but either way the moment was something that only came about because the stars had aligned just right.

When he pulled away the target was long gone and he knew he’d have to leave this out of the status report but he technically wasn’t supposed to interact with him, just tell the client a confirmed location. His job was technically done which meant he felt no guilt when he leaned down to steal another kiss, your hands sliding along his back and gripping his jacket in a desperate attempt to not fall to the ground as your knees begin to buckle.

“I got you,” Ichiro mumbled against your lips, “I got you.”

[rieson]

Hiya! Congratulations on 200 followers! 😊 Could I request Zoro and "tired' for the prompt! The scenario would be totally up to you, and you can make it fluff or angst, but I would prefer the fluff if possible hehe 😊 congrats again! 💖

 ↱ OSCITANCY !  ↲

pairing; zoro x gn!reader

genre; fluff , humor

content warning; none

word count; 1,082

authors note; hello !! thank you so much, sorry this took so long (i was focusing on the match-ups requests more and than the scenarios requests) i hope you forgive me for delivering this very late, i am very sorry !! but other than that, I hope you enjoyed this! sorry for grammar errors <3

─ after a long tiring day of luffy dragging you with him to do pranks around the ship, you understandably get exhausted and go to zoro to fuel your energy back to 100.

"tired?"

"yeah" you mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

BEING apart of the Strawhat crew is exhausting and very energy draining; and that's a proven fact.

If one were to ask the crew members on how much energy it takes to get over a full day on the sunny go ship ─ most of them would say a lot, and they aren't lying either.

No matter if it was a ‘relaxing’ day with no one on their trail or days where they would have to fight endlessly.

There’s really no difference between days like those, why may you ask?

The answer is your captain.

Your oh so chaotic captain that seems to have an endless amount of energy everyday.

Where does he even get all his energy from? You rarely even see him sleep!

Hence, that's why there is always never a dull moment in the sunny go ship─The ship that accompanies the whole straw hat crew sails all over the wide ocean.

Your captain; Luffy likes to pull pranks whenever he gets bored.

And today is one of them.

──────────

Today was supposed to be your ‘do-nothing-all-day-except-cuddle-with-zoro’ day (keyword; supposed to be) but then Luffy just HAD to drag you into his antics with Usopp.

What makes it worse is that your boyfriend didn't even try to rescue you from his own captain dragging his significant other to do the dirty job of the pranks for him.

All he did when you sent him a pleading look that clearly screams ‘pls help i dont wanna get dragged into this mess’ was lazily look at you and mumble “Im too tired for this” before going to sleep again.

Talk about betrayal.

And now, here you are, on a so called ‘mission’ that Usopp has assigned you to finish; so his prank could succeed.

If you’re being honest with him, you didn't really catch on to anything Usopp has said about the mission and failed it.

Leading to the present;

“Okay, well Looks like we’re on to plan B now since [Name] failed the mission i gave them” Usopp spoke out in the circle that consists of You , Usopp , Luffy, Franky , and Chopper.

Luffy sent you a pout, “Why did you fail the mission [Nameee]??” He whined, grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you.

“Luffy i-”

“It was supposed to be succesfuuul!! NoooooO” He slurred on his words.

Usopp sent you both a glare; silently telling Luffy to shut up and stop shaking you so he could discuss a new plan.

“Sorry! Shishishi!~” Luffy sent Usopp a boyish grin and sat obediently.

You on the other hand, was still out of it.

Franky cleared his throat “Well technically this would be plan G”

“How many plans do we have? Is there like, a plan M?” Chopper questioned; mostly to himself but the others heard it.

“Yeah, but [Name] dies in plan M” Answered Usopp, voice way too calm for someone that had just admitted that one of his prank comrades would die in one of his plans.

As if hearing the word ‘[Name]’ and ‘Dies’ in the same sentence, you snapped into reality.

“Wha?!- ME?? DYING?!” You exclaimed in both shock and horror.

All attention was on you now.

Usopp gave you a nervous smile, “Y-Yeah… It's risky…”

“Shishishi! It can't be THAT bad! I'm sure you can do it! You’re in my crew afterall, i won't let you die!” Luffy gave his signature grin and patted your back quite harshly; causing you to cough violently.

“Lu─ffy!” You coughed and swatted his hand away.

Finally regaining your composure, you questioned Usopp, “What IS plan M anyways?”

He avoided your gaze and stared at the opposite direction and whistled lowly, “Well...it may or may not involve stealing something from Nami..”

Your face visibly paled.

If you’ve learned something from being on the strawhat crew since the beginning; one of the rules was most definitely to not steal anything from Nami, the redhead had made it clear to whoever in this ship that tried to steal something of hers would have been in debt with her.

And you definitely did not want to be in Debt, especially in Nami’s debt.

You’re broke already from trying to satisfy your boyfriends addiction to booze─ you can't possibly pay Nami!

Deciding that enough was enough; you stand up and left without a word; Leaving everyone in the circle shell-shocked confused as they watched your figure shrinking smaller and smaller as you made your way to the crow’s nest.

──────────

Stomping your feet irritatedly as you climb up to your boyfriend’s training room, you grumble profanities under your breath.

Arriving at your destination, you look around and saw your green haired boyfriend snoring albeit loudly; his back on one of the chairs.

Your eyes soften at the sight but you narrowed your eyes as soon as you remembered that he didn't even help you get out of Luffy’s antics.

You huff through your nose, approaching his sleeping figure, his chest rising up and down every now and then.

You flopped your body onto his; making Zoro abruptly wake up and wheeze as the air in his body got knocked out.

“Wh─HEEE─” He coughed violently.

“What are you doing?” Zoro managed to croaked out.

“Sleeping.” You answered.

He narrowed his eyes and grunted, “I cant breathe like this, get off”

“No”

He cocks an eyebrow at your answer, seemingly clueless onto why you were acting like this.

“Did i do somethi?─”

You cut him off before he could even finish his sentence,

“Yes. Yes you did Mr. Roronoa. You let Luffy drag me into one of his pranks again even though today was supposed to be a day where i relax and only cuddle you! But nooOOooO you just had to let luffy steal your significant other to do his pranks!” You ranted, blowing a raspberry on his thigh; Making his skin slightly tingle.

He gave you a deadpan expression and scoffed “Not my fault you weren't strong enough to go against him”

You slap him.

“Ow!”

“Fine then. You cant sleep on my lap anymore.”

His face visibly panicked, sweat dripping down his forehead, “Okay okay! Im sorry jeez, i’ll talk to luffy about that”

You don't respond.

Zoro shifts his body into a more comfortable position; laying your head in his chest.

“Tired?”

“..Yeah” You mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

“Go to sleep, i’ll wake you up.”

“Thanks…” You lost your consciousness as soon as Zoro started playing with your hair and rubs your back.

end

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