#the poor boy is always in the trenches

[juicingbeetles]

[via-l0ve]

Dude I can't beleive I found a spn preferences writing blog that is active..... could I request the Spn boys react to the reader playfully making fun of them (lowkey bullying them) with Gabriel also.

Bullying is a love language. (SPN pref!) 🩷

a/n: i suck at titles bro💀. thank you so much anon! i love supernatural and i’m always happy to get requests! i hope you enjoy this, i bully people i love all the time, i was giggling when i was writing this lol

warnings: swearing, bullying(is that a warning???)

Dean:

BETRAYED

he goes 👁️👄👁️

“what’s for breakfast”

“wHaTs FoR bReAkFaSt?!”

“y/n what the hell was that for.”

“you sounded funny.” 🤷‍♀️

he’s literally betrayed

so sad

“i just wanted breakfast.”

“sorry dean.” you’re laughing

pouts

but he DEFINITELY bullies you back.

he just gets offended if you do it

(he’s a hypocrite🩷)

—

Sam:

“okay so, get this-“ {goes on a rampage about the hunt that could’ve been summed up by a few words}

“wow, sammy. that was just SO interesting. i almost fell asleep but i’m sure glad i didn’t just so i could hear you say the same thing five times.” 🥰

silence

he gives you the bitch face

sam is SARCASTIC and he will clap back

“don’t worry y/n i made it extra long so your tiny mind would be able to understand.”

now it’s your turn to go 👁️👄👁️

“that was so hot.”

LMFAO jkjkjk

unlesssss

sarcastic sam is a hottie and i’m tired of keeping my opinions to myself!!!

he knows you mean well and he makes out with you afterwards <3

—

Castiel:

he gets sad

i feel like it would accidentally slip out

season 6(?) spoilers ahead

yk when they’re hunting down eve and cas can’t use his abilities and dean goes ‘great. without your angel mojo you’re basically just a baby in a trench coat.’ and cas goes

apologize right now.

he dosent get it he’s just a poor little angel

he adapts though and he realizes that it’s a way of showing love

he laughs about it after a bit.

—

Crowley

he is SHOOK

flabbergasted.

he dosent have people talk down to him often so when it happens (from YOU) he is unstable™️

he goes

it’s so funny

he’s such a drama queen omg

he will ROAST you back or give you the silent treatment

crowley gives me cheeto girl vibes idk if that’s good to say

—

Gabriel:

he shots right back at you with this goddamn face

he’s mischievous he knows his roasts.

i feel like it would become an inside joke or a new established way of telling eachother ‘i love you’

“you’re such a dick.”

“mhm. love you too y/n.”

that’s so cute. wtf.

he’d find it funny tho

esp if you bully other people he’s like 🥰🥰

you guys are around other ppl and they hear you guys going

“fuck you y/n.”

“uh-huh. fuck you too.”

and then you kiss

they’re like “…”

it’s okay. he finds it hilarious

[wellofdean]

Thinking about @luckshiptoshore and her liveblog of watching Supernatural and how much I love following it and how great it is to watch someone just fucking ENJOY the show...

And then, there were a couple of people in my Discord who love the fic, but have never watched the show, and folks in there were trying to convince them that it was worth watching (duh!) and that knowing the show by heart makes the fic so much better and like yes, again... DUH! And then I was suddenly overcome with such a feeling of ENVY for all the people who still have the chance to watch Supernatural for the first time already knowing what happens in the end.

I mean, I watched 14 years of it in real time (after downloading and bingeing season 1) and at least I was clever enough not to be in the fandom trenches that whole time, and just enjoyed it for what it was, but the end broke my brain, and changed the whole show for me.

Because, like, here's what happens in Supernatural by the end: Dean and Cas are in love. It was not subtle. Dean can't say it because he never has a single moment of not being up to his pretty, pretty eyeballs in dealing with the ongoing and constantly multiplying trauma of being the man his father raised him to be, and god's specialest boy to boot, but in the end, Cas finally does just fucking say it. Not only that, he waits until he can use it to save Dean, and show him once and for all in an incontrovertible, undeniable way exactly how deeply and truly loved and SEEN he is.

When you watch it knowing that, knowing that the the whole story is going to end in that stupid bunker dungeon with Cas telling Dean who he is and dying to save him, the whole thing just HITS DIFFERENT, because the Dean of season one with his outcast liminality and pretty, pretty lips is the poor, lonely, weird boy who will one day be loved like that by Castiel, an angel of the lord -- an impossible Eldritch being who learned what love and selfhood are from closely observing Dean.

The consensus amongst most Supernatural fans is that it is trashy and bad and that its all evil queerbaiting, but I would contend that it's actually deeply entertaining, culturally rich and interesting (yes, even its flaws and missteps), often impressively well-written and acted, never puts on any airs about being prestige television or high art, but still manages to be ultimately epic and somehow sublime, and that it's a queer story, about queer love saving the universe, and it is so, so worth watching.

Like, my brainworms are not 'they strung me along all that time and then never let them make out', by brainworms are 'they told us so many times and in so many big and small ways, and now I need to watch every bit of it again and again and again so I can finally REVEL IN IT (and, friends, that is the Supernatural rewatch journey: realising it was ALWAYS THERE). My brainworms aren't 'but does Dean reciprocate??' they are: 'of course he loves Cas, and of course Cas knows that Dean loves him, and the one thing Cas can't have? That's just his chance at happiness and a soft epilogue with and for Dean, because Cas, impossible, cosmic, Eldritch being Cas, traded his chance at happiness for his family's lives and sacrificed himself for love of his son and Dean, because that is what you do when you love someone, and what he has watched Dean never stop doing for even a minute of his beleaguered life.'

And then, Dean dies (yes, it's stupid), and he cannot just go to heaven, drink a beer and hang out, he needs to climb into his magic soul vehicle, hit the axis mundi and tear the universe up looking for his angel and his happy ending in The Winchesters? Fuck me.

And like, it's the most romantic, and devastating story I have ever been told? And I love it so much?

[gnomeonamelon]

Hello! Part 2 of my designs: Thalia Grace and Nico di Angelo!

In honor of reading (/listening to) The Demigod Files for the first time, I decided to do the other Little 3: Greek Edition) next! For the sake of reference, Thalia is 27 chronologically/ 17 physically and Nico is 19 (I'll explain).

The rules I set myself to for these redesigns were explained in Part 1 where I did The Trio.

Notes Below (and a poll please I need help):

Thalia:

The ears probably need the most explanation here: I like the idea that becoming a hunter changes you more than simply immortality. They are made up of humans (demigod and mortal) and nymphs, so I threw traits in the blender- the humans become more nymph like, and the nymphs become more human like (always including their bond to a specific place/ thing in nature being broken).

The only other thing of significance I did that wasn't just design flavor was change her hair color from black to brown. I just thought the color worked well with her complexion and differentiated her from the others more.

I keep bouncing around with who should get Aegis after she becomes a hunter (I'm almost positive she never uses it again after TTC)

Nico:

When I was working through the seven total children of the Big 3 and their ages, I realized that I wanted to make it conceivable that any of them could've been the child of prophecy (or seen that way) at some point. I was able to do this fairly easily for everyone else but had to get more creative for Nico. Currently, I'm working with the idea that Nico and Percy are the same age, they have the same birthday.

Once Nico is introduced and Bianca joins the hunters/dies, no one knows who's going to fulfill the prophecy. This adds more tension as he is seemingly evil, and no one knows where he is most of the time. This would probably make everyone but especially Annabeth really suspicious. It would go back and forth for a while before eventually turning out to be Percy.

Ok! On to the actual design: I wanted to go with something different for Nico's outfit as he has a couple early in the series. My personal favorite of these alternates is the black trench coat, so I went with that. Combined with the heeled boots, curved, almost cutlass looking kopis, and cross the body sash for the sheath, he looks very piratey to me with his more formal shirt and pants all being 1940s inspired.

He also has a lot of elements that I at least always forget about. He has a chain belt in BotL that I have never seen in fanart before, so I wanted to include it. I also wanted him to wear his (now skeleton themed) armor since the poor boy needs armor if he's going to go to Tartarus.

It's hard to see at a distance, but there is a key embedded in Nico's sword. Given that the Underworld is described with prison/ door motifs (ex: The Doors of Death), I like the idea that underworld gods have different keys.

When fighting Melinoe, Nico finds (steals) a key that allows him to summon ghosts without the ritual (its criminal that the Ghost King didn't come back in this story).

[portraitoftheoddity]

Foot Care for Hiking - A Guide

Hiking is rough on your feet. Any activity where you spend a lot of time moving around upright is going to be, but between the added weight of a pack, the irregularity of the terrain, and the intensity of conditions in the outdoors with heat, cold, wet, etc., hiking for miles can leave your feet far more sore than walking an equal distance on a flat paved road. From getting blisters to bruising toenails to even cases of trench foot among thru-hikers, there’s a lot of problems that can arise. 

But if you’re out in the backcountry and your feet are blistered and miserable... you still need them to walk out. So it’s essential that you take care of them, so they can carry you and back safely! 

Here are some tips for foot care and maintenance for the new hiker:

BEFORE YOU PLAN TO HIKE

1 - Get Hiking Shoes That Fit Well. This is honestly the biggest thing. 

Proper hiking footwear with decent support and traction is really important, not just for comfortable feet, but also for overall safety. A lot of injuries among novice hikers stem from inappropriate footwear that leads to slipping and falling. Hiking boots, hiking shoes, or hiking sandals designed for cushioning your feet and gripping the terrain are worth investing in, since even an expensive shoe is cheaper than the doctor’s bill for a broken leg (ask me how I know!)

But the right type of shoe won’t matter if it doesn’t fit your foot. If your shoe is too tight, it’s going to pinch and rub against your foot uncomfortably and give you blisters. If your shoe is too big, your foot is going to slip around in it, rubbing against the shoe... and give you blisters. If your toes repeatedly ram into the end of the toebox of your shoe because of poor fit, this will result in achy toes, bruised toenails, and possibly even toenail loss on long-haul hikes. 

When you buy hiking footwear, try to do so in person. Different brands will have different fits, and you may find one in particular is better suited to the shape of your foot. For instance: I almost exclusively wear Keens because of the wide toe box, since I have narrow heels and wide toes on my weird-ass Daffy Duck feet. An associate may be able to guide you, especially if you’re in an outdoors-oriented store.

So once you have some shoes that fit comfortably and are hiking appropriate--

2 - Break Those Bad Boys In. 

Don’t immediately go on a long hike in a brand new pair of shoes you’ve never worn. Practice first wearing them around the house, running errands in them, going for walks in them, running up and down stairs in them, and letting them mold to your feet. Then try some longer walks or short hikes before setting out on a lengthy expedition. If you’re like me and wear specific insoles, wear them in your hiking boots while breaking them in. 

If you notice certain issues, like heel slippage or pressure on the top of your foot if you have high arches, try looking into different lacing techniques. This article has some suggestions, and there’s a lot more techniques out there. Experiment with what lacing technique is most comfortable for you!

PREPARING FOR YOUR HIKE

You have your boots and you’re planning to hike. Awesome! Here are some foot care steps that should be part of your hiking prep routine:

1 - Trim Your Nails. Long toenails can snag, and also can ram into the ends of your shoes, causing bruising, pain, and even ingrown toenails. Google “Hiker’s Toe” at your own risk. Keeping your toenails neatly trimmed is a good preventative step, and one I always take the night before a hike.

2 - If you’re prone to blistering, Tape Your Feet. I know that because of some weirdness in my stance and gait and the shape of my feet, there are spots where I am always prone to blistering on a hike. If you’re a brand new hiker, you might not be aware of any problem spots yet -- or you might be the lucky sort who doesn’t have any! -- but if you know you tend to get blisters on the backs of your heels, or anywhere else, get your tape out. 

I use Leukotape P, since it’s breathable and sticks well even when it gets damp from sweat, but plain old drug store brand cloth medical tape will do in a pinch. Tape up any problem areas preventatively before setting out -- the tape will provide a barrier between your skin and the area of your boot that’s rubbing against it, reducing the friction. It also secures that top layer of skin in place, reducing the shearing effect between upper and lower layers of skin that results in blister formation from repetitive rubbing. 

3 - Put on Good Socks. Your socks should be the right height for your shoe. If you have ankle-high boots, don’t wear low-cut socks; you want your socks to be a consistent barrier between your shoe and your skin. You also want socks that-- like your shoes -- fit. You don’t want them so snug that they’re digging into your calves and cutting off circulation, but they shouldn’t be loose and moving around in your boot either, and the heel cup should line up with your foot’s heel.

For sock material, merino wool is the go-to choice among hikers, though polyester and nylon also make appearances. Wool socks are great because wool stays warm even when it gets a bit damp, and wool socks can absorb a lot of moisture before they feel wet, and dry quickly. As a bonus, wool doesn’t hold on to stink as much as some other fabrics!

4 - Stock Your First Aid Kit. You should always hike with first aid supplies, and I always keep extra blister pads, blister dressings, and medical tape in mine...

ON THE TRAIL

So now you’ve finally hit the trail and you’re heading out into the wilderness -- but you still shouldn’t forget about your feet! Pay attention to any pain, pinching, rubbing, or other discomfort in your feet, and don’t hesitate to take a pause to fix problems as they come up. Got a pebble in your shoe? Don’t suck it up-- stop and take it out! 

An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure when it comes to foot first aid, and smart hikers address small problems early on before they have a chance to become big problems and potentially incapacitate you out in the backcountry. So never be afraid or ashamed to stop if something is up with your feet -- you might feel like a pain in the ass if you’re calling a stop while hiking with a group, but I guarantee you, it’s way less trouble to stop for five minutes for someone to fix their shoe than it is to half-carry your friend with horrible blisters the last mile back to the parking lot.

KEEP YOUR FEET DRY

For hikes with a lot of water crossings, I usually pack extra socks in case I fall in and soak a foot. Wet socks and shoes can cause a whole host of problems for your feet, from blisters on a short hike  to trench foot in multi-day hikes in wet conditions. Wearing wool or quick-dry materials in your socks will help, but a spare pair if you get drenched is always helpful. If you get wet and need to change socks -- do it. If you need to take a break to dry out your feet -- do so. 

SPOT THE HOTSPOTS

If you’re hiking at an incline, such as going through hilly terrain or up a mountain, you may feel your shoes slipping and rubbing in new ways, causing chafing or pinching that didn’t happen when you were breaking your shoes in on flat ground. This is unfortunately pretty normal, as the angle of your foot and ankle are different when you’re going up a slope than on flat ground. Be very mindful of hotspots forming from this change in angle and stop to deal with them ASAP!

“Hotspots” are precursors to blisters. When you pause to take your shoe and sock off, you might see an angry red patch of skin, but no visible injury -- yet. At this point, you can still prevent a blister from forming. I mentioned earlier taping up with Leukotape, and I always keep a roll of medical tape in my pack, along with a knife I can cut it with. Blister pads (that essential thing to have in your hiking first aid kit!) are also great -- I’ve kept a bad hotspot from fully turning into a blister and rupturing by putting on a blister pad directly over the affected area, and then securing it in place by taping up the entire back of my foot before continuing. 

DEAL WITH BLISTERS SOONER THAN LATER

If you didn’t notice the warning signs until it’s too late and you’ve got blisters -- again, blister pads. Keep them as cushioned as possible to try to avoid rupturing them. If your feet are in a lot of pain and you’re still outbound, seriously consider turning around and heading back -- it’s only going to get worse, and you’ll be even further from help. There’s being tough, and then there’s being stupid. 

Again: try not to let your blisters rupture. A torn blister is an open wound and an easy vector for infection, plus they take longer than intact blisters to heal. If your blisters do tear, immediately get your first aid kit out and clean and bandage them. Don’t just slap a standard band-aid on them either -- use an actual blister dressing that seals it in on all sides to minimize infection risk. If your blisters are extremely fluid-filled and you can’t get your shoes back on and can’t hike out without draining it and have NO OTHER CHOICE... (this is anecdotal advice and NOT the advice of a medical professional)... sterilize the area and your tools with alcohol wipes, then make a small incision with a knife or pin from your repair kit (again, STERILIZE IT FIRST) at the EDGE of the blister to drain the fluid. Make the incision as small as you can while still allowing it to drain, don’t tear or remove the top of the blister, and then clean and bandage the area thoroughly. Check on your dressings periodically when you take breaks, and change them as needed. 

Side note: Do not apply medical tape directly on an unruptured blister. When you peel that tape off at the end of the day, there’s a good chance it will rip that blister right open and you will scream like a banshee and scare the dog.

TAKE REST BREAKS IF YOU NEED THEM

If you’ve been doing mile after mile and your feet are just sore, take a break, even if there isn’t a blister emergency. Sit down on a nice rock, take your shoes off, rub your feet, air out your socks, and enjoy the scenery. You’re out in nature -- enjoy it for a minute. I’ve stopped by an ice cold babbling mountain brook and let my feet soak for some nice chilling hydrotherapy and to listen to the running water, just because I could. Allow your body to rest a bit, and then continue onward.

AFTER YOUR HIKE / BETWEEN HIKES

You’ve successfully completed your hike and made it home! Now what?

Immediately:

Take off your hiking shoes, and undo the laces so they can air out. Those puppies are gonna be ripe, so maybe toss in some baking soda to soak up the stank. Hot, wet conditions inside hiking boots are a good place for bacteria and fungus to bloom, so don’t just stuff them in a dark and musty closet until they’re good and dry.

Carefully peel off any tape on your feet you’ve added, and tend to any blister dressings or injuries.

WASH YOUR FEET. I shower pretty much immediately after a hike, but always put extra attention into cleaning and scrubbing my feet -- again, don’t want bacteria or fungus. Afterwards, I often rub in some lotion.

After that: 

Take note of any issues you had, and think about how to deal with them in the future. If you got hot spots in certain places, write that down and tape those places up preemptively next time you hike. If your socks kept riding down in your boots, try different socks next time. If you forgot something in your first aid kit, or used up something that needs replacing, make sure you’re well stocked for your next hike.  

If your feet are sore after a hike, a nice hot soak can be very soothing. If they’re swollen, try icing them for 15-20 minutes and elevating them. If foot pain still persists after a couple of days and hasn’t improved, you may want to check in with your doctor as there could be a bigger problem such as tendonitis, plantar fasciitis, or a stress fracture.

You might find yourself developing calluses in certain places, and while calluses can have protective qualities as your feet’s homemade armor, letting them get too thick can also cause problems. I shave down my calluses periodically and try to keep them at the texture of “supple worn leather” and not “crunchy horn” to avoid cracking and blistering. 

--

Hiking can be a lot of fun, and it’s even more fun when your feet aren’t an absolute disaster zone. So get good shoes, be prepared to address any problems that come up, and listen to your feet. Take good care of them, and they’ll take you anywhere!

[bonezone44]

IMAGINE:

Ezra joins the Triple Frontier boys for a mission. He finds Frankie alone one night, sitting by himself. He snuggles up real close, shows him a special toy he brought to keep him company on the long trip. It's a fleshlight. Ezra describes the features of it, using his finger to caress the rubbery folds before plunging it into the tight hole--an action that causes Frankie to tense up with a quiet gasp.

"I have pleasured myself with this many times over," Ezra smirks, his face inches from Frankie's. "Perhaps you'd like to experience the delight of this bauble for yourself?"

Frankie's fingers dig trenches into his knees. He swallows a thick wad of spit. "I-I-I don't know--"

Ezra's free hand tugs gently on the waistband of Frankie's pants. "I can provide a personal demonstration if you'd like?"

Frankie's face has gone red, his eyes searching Ezra's in a panic. He briefly glances at the door of the room.

"Don't worry about them," Ezra says with his eyes locked on Frankie's. "They're more than occupied for the time being."

Frankie's mouth has been hanging open the entire time they've been talking and when he tries to speak again, it's very raspy. "O-okay."

Ezra's smirk grows wider as he undoes Frankie's pants and pulls his hardening cock out. He glances down. "Nice cock you have there, soldier boy. Let's see if we can fit inside this tight little hole, hmm?" He slowly brings the fleshlight down on Frankie's hardness.

There was already lube inside of it, Frankie realizes as he's engulfed in tight moisture. Ezra had prepared it--either for himself or for Frankie, he's not sure. But he finds sweet relief in the sensation nonetheless. He closes his eyes but he can still feel the heat of Ezra’s breath on his cheek.

"Feels good, don't she?" Ezra asks, not expecting much of a reply as he guides the toy up and down, jerking off Frankie with smooth movements. Ezra chuckles at Frankie's fervent nod. "Almost as good as a real wet cunt, huh?"

"Yeah," Frankie gasps out and wipes the sweat beading on his forehead. "'S good," he stutters.

"Always glad to assist a brother in need." Ezra grins.

Frankie bites his lip, his brows furrow deep.

Ezra wraps his free arm around Frankie's shoulder and begins to pepper him with kisses along his neck, cheek, and into his hair. "Soldier boy like you works himself to the bone, don't he?" His slides the toy along Frankie's cock a little faster. "Gives every bit of himself until there's nothing left? Until he's all empty?" Ezra tuts. "Poor thing. Must be hard giving to everybody but yourself." He hums. "You're a good boy, 'Fish. And don't let anybody tell you any different."

Frankie starts panting. His face is somehow even redder than before. He grips Ezra's arm, not to stop him, but to simply ground himself in Ezra's body and presence.

Ezra maintains his pace. The squelching inside the toy is quiet, but audible. He wishes it were his own skin wrapped around Frankie's cock, but he figured the toy was a useful buffer--in case Frankie rebuffed his advances. But now that he's seen Frankie's reactions, he knows he'll be swallowing Frankie's loads before the mission ends and they all part ways.

"I'm gonna--" Frankie stutters.

"Good, soldier boy. I want you to. Want you to leave your spend inside to grease my own endeavor towards satisfaction. Come on, soldier boy. You deserve it. You do. You work so hard. You deserve to feel so good--"

Frankie comes quietly, releasing himself inside the toy. His whole body relaxes. His eyes are bleary.

Ezra pulls the toy off of Frankie's softening cock, causing Frankie to whimper.

"My turn," Ezra smirks.

[garb-rage]

Going Thrift Shopping with the main 4 (Hcs)

🛼- Summary - Head cannons about your experience thrift shopping with the boys!

- Pairing(s)- (SEPARATE) Kenny McCormick, Kyle Broflovski, Stan Marsh, and Eric Cartman x gn!Reader

🛼- Reader info - gn!reader and established relationship

- Warnings - none! (Unless you count swearing ig lmao)

………………………………………………………

🐀 - Kenny McCormick -

He’s so down, he’s SEEN all the ice cold shit you’ve found, and wants in on the action asap

Kenny had known about thrifting for a while, but hadn’t put too much thought into it due to money being tight and all, but according to YOU

“You just have to know where to look”

“Trust me I know a spot” “trust me this is where the heat is”

And trust you he did, because after taking him to some fun spots, there was no going back.

Thrifting buddy 24/7, just LOVES looking at the old clothes and pretending to be an old geezer with you, it makes him giggle

Fr makes up stories about shit he finds, probably forced you to wear it and purposely make you feel silly

“THIS old sweater was worn in the trenches of Mexico alongside my great great grandpa” 💀💀 and it’s a Star Wars T-shirt

Purposely finds good and bad clothes for you and him (he has pretty good fashion sense so you KNOW when hes got a shit eating grin)

If the shop has changing rooms, expect long ass fashion shows, the man spends WAY too much time looking at himself. He probably won’t even buy anything 98% of the time!! He’s just having fun with you!

Honestly, neither of you fucking knew that South Park had so many little shops like that!! Small towns DECEIVE!

The both of you almost always get coffee after a haul, it just feels right

And showing up to Tweek Bros. In the new shirt/sweater/etc, he feels like royalty ngl

Overall Kenny really enjoys the time spent with you, and the small moments between showing each other items or clothes really makes him feel momentarily flushed (he sees this sparkle in your eyes and he can’t help but melt)

Probably calls you a Cougar if you’re wearing something he deems “old” smh 😔

Also expect lots of “this reminded me of you”s and its the ugliest t-shirt you’ve ever seen

🧤 - Kyle Broflovski -

Ok he probably didn’t understand it at first and got kind of worried like

Is this your last resort 😔😔 he wouldn’t mind getting you something nice if you wanted 😔😔😔

You had to explain its a THING for you, like, it’s fun and you can find some pretty cool and cute things if you look hard enough!

Whatever, he wants to join in order to understand, and he surprisingly has good luck with good finds?? You’ll definitely force him to try at least ONE thing

Listen. This boy dresses himself like his mom still picks out his clothes ok. Button-ups, polos, nice jackets, Kyle’s a smartass and he wants to dress the part (😍) so for some reason it’s SO new to him, and he’s worried he’ll find something stupid and he won’t even know

Just wants your approval (he’s a sweaty nerd)

SURPRISINGLY, FINDS THE COOLEST THINGS! EVERY TIME!

Ok not every time but the matching old ass Terrance And Phillip shirts are a huge flex to him so hes happy

You’ll probably buy most of the things he shows you (they become your favorite and you wear them constantly)

Kyle and you are the same.like. “Oh this? Kyle found this necklace when we went thrifting together 🙄🙄”

And he’s constantly letting everyone know “Yeah this is a 1986 original Terrance And Phillip T-shirt matching with my partner 🙄🙄”

Everyone’s sick of it

You’ll go home with him after thrifting and Ike will TOTALLY make fun of you guys

Kyle, poor boy so In love, gets extremely giddy when you’re wearing something he found for you (blushing mess tbh)

Melts even more when you get some old stuffed animal for Ike and Ike ends up ADORING it (bonus brownie points from Sheila and Gerald)

He still doesn’t understand the whole thrift thing, I mean, newer clothes just last longer and fit his style more!! What!!

He enjoys going with you anyways and lovingly watches you get excited over small things like that <3

🎸 - Stan Marsh -

Crazy not so crazy, he’s actually gone a few times, really likes it too if it’s a good day

This, of course, makes you SUPER happy and you’re instantly dragging him to every spot South Park has

When he was with the goth kids, he remembered them talking about it, tried it for himself and was slightly obsessed for a bit

Indifferent about most of it, just likes going for the old band shirts or something with a funny graphic on it

Maybe a jacket or two as well

ACTUALLY he goes insane if there’s a cool looking varsity jacket or some jerseys yet to be worn

Although,,,,,,he has the worst luck with everything he cannot find anything good or something he likes,,,,

It’s either got shit stains or beer stains or god forbid SHARPIE or PAINT like WHY are these here

You gotta step in and hand him some of your luck, he wants his punk rock t-shirts or whatever 🙄 (he’s eternally grateful)

Thinks you look super cute in anything you’ve found, but gets slightly impatient if you’re taking too long in a dressing room or looking In the same section for too long

If there’s a certain band shirt you’re both looking for? He’s going to the ends of the earth (Just in South Park) to find it for you

Naturally, you’ll both have a blast just talking about where things have come from or chuckling over something funny looking

You’ll dress each other up in jackets too big for each other, it’s sweet and innocent 😭😭✊

Shelley caught wind of you two going thrifting every so often, she’ll kick out Stan and just wanna go with you 💀💀

Spoiler alert Shelley has TOO much fun with you and it becomes a thing (much to Stan’s dismay)

You’ll MOST LIKELY find stupid shit with her and constantly “hahaha Stan would look fucking STUPID in this”

“I know right!!”

Randy saw you wearing something you had found with Stan, thought it was Sharon’s for a while and was super confused 🤨🤨🤨

Overall, super fun chill time with the Marsh boy you love him, go get Ice cream with him after a haul ✊✊

🦝 - Eric Cartman -

“What the fuck are you wearing”

“It’s a cardigan I found doesn’t it look good!”

“Found where 💀💀💀”

ALSO DIDNT understand it and probably heard “shoplifting” instead of the former

You have to FORCE him to join you tbh and he suggested robbing Stan’s mom would get the job done faster, whatever

Pretends to be SUUUUPER bored and uninterested, like ugh he’s shopping? Says it’s totally gay

(SECRETLY LOVES SEEING YOU HAPPY 🥶)

Probably wouldn’t look around, just tag along while pretending to hate the entire experience (you know he doesn’t, you see his eyes go towards cool looking things in the shops)

Gets pretty impatient if he’s somewhere for too long, unless you REALLY beg him and find something that “meets his standards”

HATED thrifting until you found him a shirt without sleeves, looked corny as hell, had some bootleg graphic and inspirational quote and shit

Eric FELL IN LOVE WITH IT 😭😭 it showed off his muscles of course

You just HAD to get it for him, doesn’t stop wearing it, claims he found it until you give him the side eye

“We found it together 😍🙏”

“🤨”

You won’t go as often with him, but when you do (and when he’s not bitching about how boring it is), it’s actually a really fun time and he’ll make you crack tf up with snarky comments about things

He’s rude-funny and you are in love with it, especially when it’s towards something you like, you KNOW he doesn’t mean that bs towards you

Liane just HAD to mention that thrifting gets quite a lot of business in South Park, his con-man instincts went wild

Eric just wanted to start a business with you!! Resell items and clothes as if they were worth it! (They are not) fake stories galore!

Stop him before it’s too late please

DAMN WRITING FOR THEM HIS DIFFICULT, HOPE ITS IN CHARACTER, FIRST POST YALL 💀🙏

[toomanythoughts2]

After thinking about fan artists drawing Murderface with curly hair, I've decided to also thank all of the fan artists that do the following (YOU ARE ALL RECIEVING KISSES IN THE MAIL, PLEASE BE PATIENT!):

People who draw Skwisgaar, Toki, or Nathan with their hair up in a claw clip or a ponytail. Especially Skwisgaar. You understand your power and you use it for love.

People who draw Toki and Nathan with fat, juicy tits pecs. You are doing the lords work and I love you.

People who draw Pickles with freckles. If the heavens saw the beauty that you bestowed onto our little midwestern Irish-American drummer, they would weep in joy.

People who draw the boys with detail eyelashes. I know what you are.

People who draw the boys with their HC-ed ethnics/races. (i.e. Nathan having Yaneemango features, Latino/Hispanic Murderface, Sámi Skwisgaar & Toki, very Irish Pickles.) The work that yall do is outstanding and I love to see it

SCARS! S.H. SCARS, TOP SURGERY SCARS, POSSESSION SCARS, POST-DSR & AOTD SCARS, TOKI'S CHILDHOOD SCARS! I'M FUCKING COMING FOR YOU! I LOVE YOU!

People who draw Murderface with distinctive clues that he is from the American South/Appalachians. I LOVE these HCs so much and I love the idea of him being from a very poor, southern town in America, it just fits him SO FUCKING WELL!

People who give Toki and Skwisgaar opposing eye shapes. I have seen them go both ways, and either one fits them so good. I am partial to downward turned eyes for Toki though, but either way, I eat it up every single time.

People who draw Murderface and Nathan as the fat men they are. Listen, it's a big girl winter every winter, but it's a big boy summer every summer. Ya gotta give the fat boys some love.

People who draw Skwisgaar in that damn speedo or in a bikini. He's got the confidence and you have the talent.

People who draw Toki in his roller skating outfit. Need I saw more?

People who draw one or more members of Dethklok as trans. I have yet to encounter a version of this HC/canon content that I do not love, adore, admire, respect, and obsess over.

People on tiktok that attempted to do a Metalocalypse version of the "Infected My Little Pony" trend. One of which where Nathan was the infected and the other where Toki was. Honestly, the artist that was doing the eldritch horror!Toki was fucking cooking. They had it where Murderface saw Toki in his true form and was terrorizing Murderface from keep him from revealing his secret.

People who draw Trindle. Listen, I understand Nathan. If I had a goth woman showing me her tits every second of every day, I too would look past the blatant psychopathic tendencies and mysterious disappearances.

People who are not afraid to make the boys look gross. You are all so fucking valid and your interpretations of the boys are so awesome to look at. Especially if it's a specific art style that is scratchy. LOVE!

People who draw Lady!Klok. Every single interpretation of what the boys would look like is so valid, whether they're cis or trans, their outfits and appearances are also so fucking spot on. And their HCs that are added on the side to explain how they're different from Dethklok is a fucking PLUS

People who draw Skwisgaar in lingerie. I want you to know, that I see you and I appreciate you in every single way.

People who draw Trans!Pickles content (NSFW & SFW) specifically. Yall were in the god damn trenches and you PREVAILED!

People who draw the boys with their interpretations of their nose shapes, ESPECIALLY MURDERFACE! HE'S GOT A BEAUTIFUL PUG NOSE, LET HIM HAVE IT! Double appreciate for Skwisgaar's beautifully crooked nose and Nathan's slanted nose. I love their faces so much and their noses and yall always know how to bring them to light.

People who draw Knubbler with no chin. Homeboy gave away his chin in order to accumulate all of the swagger he's got. He's a Mick Jagger type of guy.

People who draw Pickles dreads as independently floating tendrils like Medusas snakes. It is so perfect for him and it's so hard not to do it.

People who draw Pickles bald. Look...It's coming. He's just gonna have to own it.

People who draw Early!Klok ESPECIALLY TOKI! That fact that we don't have a lot of information about their past other than DSR is a SHAME! BUT ITS OK BECAUSE THE FANS KNOW WHAT TO DO AND THEY DO IT PREFECTLY EVERY TIME! Every time I see little DSR Toki with his short hair, I go fucking feral. I COULD BE A GOOD MOTHER!

People who draw the gore. The show would not exist without it, and some of yall are just cooking with the themes and context yall create. I am always so intrigued with what I will see next.

People who draw and make Dethklok lesbians. Of course Dethklok is lesbian. Why wouldn't they be?

People who draw the band in their "Dethfashion" clothes. WE NEEDED MORE TIME WITH THOSE OUTFITS! WE JUST DID!

People who have no clue how to draw a Fu Manchu. I had to look this up before I said anything but a Fu Manchu does not grow around the mouth, it's literally just hair from the top part of the mouth that continues to grow down. That's why in "Stare Down" Skwisgaar refers to Toki's mustache as an "extreme facial hairs". AND YET! I ADORE THE WAY SOME OF YALL DRAW IT, ITS VERY ATTRACTIVE AND CUTE!

People who draw the band members in their animal forms. YOU CAN TAKE THESE ANIMAL FORMS FROM MY COLD DEAD HANDS! PICKLES THE OCTOPUS IS SO SPECIAL TO ME, ESPECIALLY AFTER "Dethmom"! AND THE BUNNY/RABBIT SYMOLISM FOR TOKI AND WITH HIM BEING THE ANGEL OF DEATH, ITS SO GOD DAMN IMPORTANT!

People who draw Agere!Toki. Canon age regression is so rare and to have Toki being a canon and explicit example of an age regressor throughout the entire show is so special to me. JUST LET THE BOY REST!

People who draw Abigail. She's a girl boss. She's the moment. I will NOT tolerate hate on my woman, she did not deserve the shit she got.

People who draw Deaddy Bear. I want one so badly, it's not a joke.

People who draw Toki in skirts/dresses. One particular art work with Toki is in a long bohemian skirt and a band tee with a scarf is my all time favorite example of it.

The person who created Lasagna, Pickle's daughter, and then made her a bassist. I eat your shit up every single time I see new stuff from that AU.

People who draw the boys with more piercings. Especially the angel bites on Toki, the middle of the lip piercing for Murderface, and the gauges on Nathan and Skwisgaar.

People who draw Pickles during his Snakes N' Barrels era. THE HIGHER THE HAIR THE CLOSER TO GOD YOU ARE! AND PICKLES WAS CLIMBING THAT LADDER EVERY NIGHT!

People who draw Pickles pubes in the shape of his goatee like in "Rehabklok". That's one of the funniest visual gags in the entire show, I won't hear another word about it.

People who draw Charles. Every single one of you are invited to my Charles Offdensen themed birthday party.

People who give Toki the longest hair length but give Skwisgaar the most definition. Also, when they remember Nathan's little hair wisp in his face. Skwisgaar has the waves and Toki is afraid to getting a hair cut.

PEOPLE WHO DRAW GODKLOK! GOATED AS FUCK! THE COOLEST FUCKING PEOPLE EVER! I AM FOREVER IN YOUR DEBT! EVERY SINGLE ITERATION IS SO FUCKING GOOD!

People who draw Top/Dom!Toki. LISTEN HE'S A SADIST, HE JUST GETS NERVOUS! IF YOU GIVE HIM TIME, HE CAN PROVE TO BE GREAT!

People who draw Nathan as the bottom. You understand what this man needs and it's to get railed.

People who draw the boys in jeans. Listen. This one is really niche but for whatever reason, this fandom puts these boys in a pair or jeans and they are looking as fine a fucking WINE!

People who draw the cowboy Dethklok fan art. What is it like wielding the power that you have?

That's all that I think of at the moment, but I really do appreciate all of the different kinds of fan artists this fandom has. There is some absolutely beautiful pieces in this fandom.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | part fourteen preview

Blue holds her arm out, stopping you from taking another step.

"Sh. I see one."

Up ahead, a squirrel stills on a tree, beady eyes unblinking. In a matter of seconds, Blue throws her knife and pins it to the bark through the stomach. 

"Nice," you comment. "You got it on the first try this time."

In your hand is the other squirrel she killed for you. Ghost started working on your bow yesterday. He didn't say anything to you about it, but you spotted him sitting on the porch chiseling away at a hunk of oak. Until he's finished, you've struck another deal: helping Blue skin the rabbits in exchange for her killing squirrels with you. She's better at killing them with a knife than you are, and you needed something to get you off the couch, anyway.

"This is good practice for me." She wriggles the knife out and hands you the kill. "Poor guy didn't see it coming."

"Probably better that way."

She slips the knife back to her ankle. "Do you need more? Or is two enough."

"Two is enough. I saw these flowers by the trench that I think are edible."

"You can eat flowers?" She makes a face. The two of you begin heading back toward the camp. You didn't go off too far with her. Ghost said she wasn't allowed to go past the pond without him. Truthfully, you were surprised he let her go with you at all. 

"Yeah. Pink Sorrel. They taste lemony, and I'll add the leaves, too. Like a salad."

"Yum," she says sarcastically. "Did Paul teach you that?"

You nod. "He knew a lot about plants."

"Are you sure he didn't like you?" 

"Blue," you almost groan. "You've asked me this twice now."

"Well, you seemed to have spent a lot of time with him, and he taught you a lot of things."

"You can spend time with someone and learn things from them without... liking them."

"I wouldn't know," she shrugs, waving her hand around. "There are no boys here for me to spend time with besides Ghost." 

There is a pause as a cloud rolls over the sun, turning everything dim before it passes. The weather these past few days has been fluctuating like true spring. Cold showers in the morning, intense sunlight by noon, and clouds that come and go. The cabbages Blue planted have sprouted fat, juicy leaves. You've mentally scolded yourself for not including seeds in your deal with Ghost. 

"So when are you and him going to start training or whatever?" Blue speaks up, switching subjects.

"Training?" you repeat.

"He told me you wanted to learn some things." She glances at you. "Look, let me just warn you, he can be a real hard ass. One time, he made me climb up and down a tree twenty times without stopping. And another time, he made me throw knives over and over until I hit the exact same spot on the tree again."

Right. Somehow, that last request you made of him has slipped your mind. You did ask him to teach you how to better defend yourself against other people.

It's been over a week now, and the two of you still haven't talked much except for the necessities. Honestly, it's probably best that way. Maintaining a clinical relationship with him should keep the peace and maybe even earn more of his trust. You're growing confident that he doesn't see you as much of a threat anymore. Last night, you ran into him again after waking up sweaty at some odd hour, and all he did was walk past you, step outside for a cigarette, and then go back to his room. He didn't seem suspicious of you being up at all.

That said, the reminder of the 'training' he's supposed to give you makes your teeth snag onto your lip. 

When you don't respond, Blue adds, "What exactly do you want him to show you? I hate to say it, but I don't think he'll give you one of his guns."

"No," you shake your head. "I don't want that. It's not Greys that I'm as worried about. As long I've got distance, I can use my bow for them. It's more about... other people. They get close. Too close."

"Well, you can always bite their nose off," she gives a bump to your shoulder.

You cringe. "I'd rather not have to do that again."

She pauses, looking at her boots. "What did it taste like?"

"Fucking awful. Probably the grossest thing I've ever experienced."

She looks up. "If you were a Grey, you would've loved it."

"Well, I'm human still, and I much prefer these guys." You wag the dead squirrels in front of her face and she laughs. If you could replace all her tears with that sound, you would.

"You still haven't answered my question," Blue tilts her head. "When are you getting started? Because I have some training in mind for you, too."

You arch a brow but don't question it. "Um. I don't know. Ghost hasn't said anything to me about it, and he's busy working on my bow right now."

"Why don't you ask him, then?" She shoots you a knowing smirk. "Are you scared of him, Twix?"

"No," you say all too quickly. "No... I'm not. I just don't know how to talk to him. He's not exactly approachable."

"Just do what I do. I say whatever I want to him. Except when he's pissed, then—" she freezes for a moment and lays a hand on your shoulder. "—it's better to shut up and listen. Believe me."

You speak under your breath. "Noted."

[j0kers-light]

Okay that head canon about y/n getting sick and J worrying over her was precious 🥹 What if the tables were turned and J got bad sick and refused to take care of himself?

-🍄

My beloved 🍄 anon!! How I have missed you!

You stay providing me with amazing ideas! sick!reader was fun to write! So let’s explore a sick!Joker! This big baby… I’m gonna have fun with this one. 🖤✨as always enjoy enjoy!!

Joker does not get sick. He is far too busy to be bogged down with such a trivial thing as germs. Who do they think they are anyway?

Sure he's not superhuman but you would think all that time spent messing with chemicals and stuff would make him immune?

NOPE! Baby boy gets hit with the common cold and he’s out for weeks. It’s almost funny if not for the fact that Joker fighting for his life.

If only Batman knew a common cold could have J waving a white flag. 🥴

Unlike you Joker accepts rather quickly that he's sick and needs to sit his butt down somewhere.

That doesn't mean that decision is instantaneous. He ignores minor symptoms too. 🙄🙄

Like an itchy throat, watery eyes, a splitting headache. HE'S FINE. Joker powers through as if nothing is wrong. 👀 (sound familiar?)

Frost is the first to raise an eyebrow as the days progress and Joker doesn’t improve. He hints that J might be coming down with something only to be ignored. Frost tried to warn him.. 🤦🏾‍♀️

Just imagine Joker hosting a meeting like mid theatric speech and suddenly.. he sneezes.

Mac secretly took a video to send to you later because Joker looked too cute!

Joker and just about everyone in attendance was shocked at the comical (and adorable) sneeze that comes out this scary man.

👁️ 👄 👁️ them goons were shooketh girl lol

Joker threatens to murder anyone if they laugh but a snicker does escape when J sneezes again and almost bangs his head against the table (I'm fighting back tears anon! 🤣)

One glance at Frost has the meeting adjourned because they gotta drop Joker off at your place. He can't terrorize Gotham City like this!

That poor baby is a mess! Joker is sweating through his greasepaint, his nose is running like Usain Bolt, and he swears that Bane is punching him in the head. 😀 yup he’s sick.

It's time to go when Joker passes out in front of Frost, Mac, and Neo after one sneeze too many.

There's only one person they trust to look after Joker. Are you up for the challenge?

Frost is a big guy, but even he is struggling to carry Joker into your apartment. He called earlier explaining that Joker wasn't feeling too well so you left the front door unlocked.

You thought that meant Joker got hurt while out being a menace to society. That you could deal with. Some bandaids and a proper scolding, always did the trick.

You weren’t expecting Frost to dump your semi-unconscious lover onto your couch like a sack of potatoes. Joker looks almost unrecognizable and you fear the worst seeing how weak he is.

His hooded eyes take you in and a groggy, "Bunny.... I'm dying!" escapes his lips before you lock eyes with Frost.

"He has a cold."

😀 Lawd help us. If you thought Joker was a drama queen before Chile.. This grown man acts like a child staying home from school with pneumonia rather than a cold.

J has transformed himself into a blanket burrito with only his freckled face exposed. And he look so pitiful.

He can't breathe out of his nose anymore which has turned scarlet red since he doesn't use the tissues you bought him, (you yell at him to stop using his sleeves!) and he takes random naps as his immune system tries to fight off this infection. It’s doing a terrible job.

A common cold last a few days at most. A full week and a half later, and Joker is still in the trenches.

This is when you start to worry and take his illness more seriously.

Feed a cold, starve a fever so you work overtime to nurse your man back to health. You prepare the best homemade soups, arrange all the tv marathons J could ever want, you even sneak him medicine with tried and true motherly tactics.

J refused to take medicine so you cave and buy him jello, applesauce, pudding etc. as a compromise.

Little does he know, you crushed the pills inside 🤫 In short, you watch over Joker like a hawk.

He orders you to stay away stating, 'he doesn't want his Bunny getting sick' but in the same breath, he makes you cuddle with him on the couch. J falls asleep using you as his personal teddy bear and you are totally okay with that.

Anything to help him sleep and recover faster.

The worst phase comes along when you wrestle out of Joker’s arms to grab the thermometer, and his voice stops you in your tracks.

"Ma? Is... is that you?"

Joker is delirious and you shouldn't take advantage of him when he's so out of it but what's the harm in feeding into his delulu? Its not like he'll remember anyway..

You weakly smile and reply. "Hush baby, I'll be right back."

J begins another coughing fit and has air remaining to steal yours with a single sentence. "No, I don't wanna be alone."

He sounds so weak, like a child confessing their worst fears to an adult. What kind of person can ignore a plea like that? You can't that’s for sure.

You’ll check his temperature later. Right now, Joker needs you. You crawl back into Joker's arms and he immediately wraps them around you.

"Don't... l-leave." His voice is breaking your heart, he sounds so scared!

You smooth J’s hair away to cup his face. You washed away all the harsh makeup and sweat days ago so you’re free to admire his natural beauty in all its glory.

Even fighting a cold, he's so handsome looking up at you with those glassy eyes of his. You doubt he recognizes you right now. Only you are allowed to see Joker so vulnerable.

Only you can take care of him and it’s an honor you’ll never take for granted.

"I’m not going anywhere." You promise.

[euripidestrousers]

What are your big wolfstar hc?

Ooh good question!

I tend to change my hcs based on the AU I'm writing, but i am not exaggerating when I say these little freaks are Always on My Mind so I have an ungodly amount of canon-themed hcs. Here we go:

- Remus is one of the only people Sirius cuts a fair amount of slack. Sirius has high standards and expectations of others but he has a huge Remus-shaped blind spot, so will find reasons to excuse Remus' sometimes shitty behaviour. He has heart shaped eyes for his gangly, sly, avoidant attachment style man.

- Remus sleeps like an absolute log, anywhere, anytime. Sirius has always been a light sleeper, wakes easily, and doesn't sleep much.

- They kept their casual fucking-turned relationship secret until well after graduating. The only ones who knew were James, Lily and Peter. Lily was the first one to figure it out because poor James had been in the trenches, so used to his friends' flirting that he didn't even clock it anymore. It brought Lily and Sirius together because he had someone to talk about it with, the first person he'd met who wasn't a casual homophobe about it, and was sympathetic.

- Second to this! James and Peter weren't always rainbow flag waving allies. They were teenage boys in the 70s - they'd drop casual homophobic comments all the time before finding out about their friends. Sirius joined in sometimes to hide it from James (he never cared what anyone else would think but he was secretly afraid of losing closeness with James), and Remus went very quiet whenever this happened. James was surprised at first when he found out but came around within minutes and apologised for being a thoughtless dick when he was younger.

- Peter most definitely used Remus and Sirius' tumultuous relationship against them. Remus was very avoidant about coming out and Sirius, while not his highest priority, resented having to hide. They bickered about it and Peter would often throw a spanner in to make their fighting worse.

- Sirius' hair is a good indicator of his mental health. While he's not vain he tends to keep it neat and out of the way when he's in a good place mentally. When he's fighting inner demons he lets it go and Remus knows this. He uses it as a Sirius-meter, and knows when it's starting to get long and unkempt to gently pry into what's going on with him.

- They do the crossword puzzles together most mornings (when Remus gets up in time)

- Sirius is fantastic at baking although he only did it once or twice for Lily's birthday (per her request). Remus is the cook for both of them, although when Sirius isn't there he sustains himself on tea, biscuits and deeply suppressed anxiety.

- Sirius is a singer when he's in a good mood. Remus adores coming home to hear his deep voice belting out a mix of muggle and wix songs because it means Sirius is in his happy place. Sirius is a serenader - it starts as a joke but there's a soft look in his eye when sings while he spins Remus around the kitchen. It's one of Remus' favourite Sirius-isms

- Sirius jokes about Remus' lycanthropy to make light of it. He can be a bit callous and insensitive about it at times, but his candour does make Remus feel less like a monster.

- They are god-awful at communicating as they're both rather private, skeptical people. While it's something they have in common and respect about each other, it makes for difficulties in a relationship.

- Sirius is a Nightmare when he's bored so Remus has a mental Rolodex of thought-provoking questions to stop him from wreaking havoc (or just being annoying). As soon as he sees the restlessness starting, he casually brings up that new law about to pass in the goblin senate, and how it might affect non-human creatures in the wizarding world. He still hasn't recovered from the time Sirius got bored and took apart his record player to see how it worked and he's not getting caught out again. This is also one of the reasons why Remus is in Sirius' top 3 favourite people - he always has something interesting to say and will happily debate for hours. Sirius is hardly ever bored around him.

- Neither of them are jealous lovers. Remus' self-worth is in the toilet, so if he sees someone flirting with Sirius he just feels miserable and spirals, thinking about how Sirius can do so much better than him. Sirius is a fiercely loyal person so he never flirts back and thinks Remus' self-image issues are ridiculous. On the odd occasion that someone flirts with Remus, Sirius rather enjoys it because a) it's ammunition for teasing and Remus will go bright red when he brings it up, and b) Watching Remus eventually realise he's being flirted with is prime entertainment - he fumbles and blushes so hard and almost takes out whoever's around in his haste to flee. It's priceless. Also - Sirius is extremely self-assured and knows his partner is hopelessly gone for him and would never cheat. Trust is extremely important to them both.

- Remus is extremely unpleasant around the full moon. He's got all sorts of aches and pains, has trouble sleeping properly, fatigue, and nausea issues. It makes him irritable and snappy. Sirius is incredibly patient with him and gives him space. He doesn't take Remus' mood to heart and occupies himself while Remus wallows. He's always there when Remus finally emerges from his misery to pitifully request a massage or a pain potion, and is uncharacteristically soft with him during the full moon period.

- Sirius. Cannot. Stand. the way Remus runs away from problems. It's his biggest pet peeve and it's a source of some of their biggest fights.

- Remus is mostly vanilla-aligned but is open to trying whatever new thing Sirius comes home with, smiling giddily and clutching a new toy or book with a spell he wants to try out. Occasionally Sirius will strike gold and find a kink Remus is wild for (ahem, praise kink), and is horribly smug about it

- Sirius is hopelessly gone for Remus' feigning innocence, lying through his teeth act. He doesn't understand it, but seeing Remus lie point blank to someone's face with those big, trustworthy brown eyes, sends him off-the chain, I-need-to-fuck-this-man-right-now-wild and he has no clue why. Remus is aware of this.

- They are mostly switchy but will go for months at a time with a preference for topping/bottoming. When Remus is feeling particularly insecure he tends to want to be fucked intimately, face-to-face, where he can see every twitch in Sirius' face, can catalogue the evidence of how much Sirius adores him. Sirius is just happy to be along for the ride because this way he can completely blanket Remus and grind slowly, swallowing every one of Remus' whimpers and broken moans as he fucks him slowly and thoroughly. Sirius can't get enough of taking him apart, finding his limits, anything that breaks Remus' finely tuned composure.

- Sirius is awful at apologies when they're younger. He has trouble admitting or even seeing his wrongs. After becoming an animagus he finds that it's much easier to apologise as Padfoot. After a fight he'll go for a rage-fuelled long walk or bike-ride, and cool down. When he's said or done something he regrets, he'll come home as Padfoot, tail drooping and wagging hopefully, big grey eyes fixed on Remus. He'll sidle up to him and just stare, wagging his tail. Remus knows exactly what he's doing but it's impossible to stay mad at him like this and he begrudgingly accepts that it's Sirius' way of apologising. It's not the healthiest communication tactic but they're not perfect. Once Sirius receives a begrudging head scratch, he changes back to his human form and acts like they never fought. It's annoyingly effective.

- Remus absolutely loathes flying on Sirius' motorbike. He begrudgingly admits it's hot to see Sirius dismounting, windswept, leather jacket donned, but god help him he'll do anything to avoid joining him on that death-trap. The only upside is that when he gets cajoled into riding, he can wrap around Sirius like a squid, burying his face in his back, and it's the only way it feels even slightly safe. Sirius secretly loves when Remus does this, and although he doesn't know what cute aggression is, it makes him want to squeeze Remus until his head pops off.

- Sirius is The Garbage Bin of the relationship. Oh you're not gonna finish your dinner? Pass it on over. Random assortment of treats Remus can't finish? Munches on them instead of meals. He often forgets to eat so he gets what he can when he can - ADHD eating style. Remus is the sick Victorian child, 'i can't eat too much dairy or I'll die'. Takes one bite of an apple and feels sick, Sirius, come get your snack, boy.

- Neither of them ever wanted kids but they both like children, which is a surprise to both of them. Given the chance, they are the Coolest Uncles, although Remus is cagey about their relationship and insists they're just best pals that live together until Harry is old enough to call bullshit, and Sirius just shrugs like 'yeah, he's weird about it. If you ask him about it he'll run away to Turkey. I'm working on it.'

Wowwww okay I have so many more but I have to stop somewhere. I hope you don't regret asking this question anon! You have opened Pandora's box

[offside-the-lines]

i'm half-doomed & you're semi-sweet | Connor McDavid (x Male!OC)

Summary: After a painful playoff exit to end the 2022-23 season, Connor just needs to get as far away as possible, all the way to Gold Coast, Australia. He expects some peace and quiet, a reprieve. What he doesn't expect is this happy and carefree bartender, Lucky, to make him question the choice he has been making since he was 10. Title inspo: Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes by Fall Out Boy

This fic is dedicated to @hiding-from-reality-56 for @wyattjohnston's Summer Fic Exchange 2k24. I'm really sorry it's late. Life has been nuts. I really hope you like it! S/O to Demi, Ashley and T for being my cheerleaders, beta readers and editors. Ilysm. Pairing: Connor McDavid x M!OC. This fic features an original male character. Word count: 11.3k Warnings: SMUT: 18 + ONLY. MINORS DNI. SAFE SEX RESOURCE. Angst, lots of (I would say light) angst (first 1/2). Smut, lots of (light to medium) smut (second 1/2). This fic deals with internalized homophobia and coming to terms with your sexuality by way of having your first gay and first sexual encounter (it's hot and sweet, I hope). This was a super meaningful topic for me to write about, and I hope it resonates. Please take care of yourself if this is a topic that is sensitive for you. Connor is also, as I liked to say as I was writing this, Cognitive Distortions and Anxiety and Self-Doubt stacked on top of each other in a trench coat. Our poor boy is going through it in this. The smallest emetophobia warning. Small mention right in the first section (7 paragraphs in). Masterlist | (My requests are currently closed.) | Read this story on AO3

It’s 4 am on May 15th, and Connor’s lying in his own bed. And the only thing he can think about is what should’ve been.

He should be going to Vegas, getting ready to win Game 7.

Or better yet, he should’ve never let it get to that point—needing a Game 7. They should be getting ready for the conference finals.

The humiliation of yet another failed year—a second-round exit, no less—stings deep, and he feels the bile rise in the back of his throat. The taste of ‘This is our year’ sits rotten on his tongue, the number of times he said it to the boys. Momentarily, he wonders if he ever truly believed it. If any of this means anything at all. Or if he really is just a mouse in a cage running on a wheel going nowhere.

The silence in Roger’s Place is all he can hear in the darkness of his own bedroom. It makes him feel like he’s going to crawl out of his skin. The idea of going back to his Toronto house, carrying the looming absence of those 35 pounds, makes him want to throw up.

Or maybe that’s just—

He bolts up in his bed, runs to his toilet, and throws up nothing but bile.

With his head resting against the cold ceramic, he thinks about his parents. He knows they’re not going to be disappointed. They don’t care about the Cu— They don’t care about all that. They care about him, but he doesn’t think he can stomach another off-season of their pitying looks and gentle encouragement.

Another off-season walking around the city of Toronto, feeling like everyone is laughing at him. ‘Look, there goes the Next Great One, the so-called McJesus. What a joke. Look at him, he’s a failure.’ He can hear their thoughts.

They don’t even know about the other thing.

He rinses his mouth and stumbles back to his bed. He picks up his phone and texts his agent about finding somewhere different to train this offseason before he can think better of it. “...in I don’t know. Fucking Australia or something. Just. Somewhere far,” he adds.

He sits on his bed, fiddling with his phone for a while.

He sighs and rests his head against the headboard. He closes his eyes and drifts, picturing what his life might look like if he wasn’t… Well… Him.

He remembers a sports psychologist he was encouraged to see called it ‘maladaptive daydreaming.’ Which—that’s always felt a little ridiculous, given that they also recommend ‘visualization techniques’. ‘Picture yourself scoring the goal, Connor,’ they’d say.

It always felt like the same thing.

He sighs and texts Jeff again. “Totally okay if not. I know it’s super late notice. Just feel like it might be good for me. And for next year.”

The next few days pass like a blur, just room full of people after room full of people. Saying the same meaningless comments over and over. Play the part. Be sad, but not too sad. Be honest, but not too honest.

It doesn’t help that Leon’s grumpy, too. Well, not so grumpy he won’t sit on Connor’s couch—that does occasionally happen—but grumpy enough that he’s been mainly communicating in grunts. But, Connor figures, a grunting Leon is better than no Leon, so they sit in miserable silence as episode after episode of Friends plays on his ridiculously large 85-inch TV.

Which—who even needs an 85-inch TV? Well… Connor does, apparently, according to his decorator anyway. It’s ridiculous, and he hates the excessiveness more with each passing minute. He considers how bad it would be to just rip it off the wall. Probably quite bad. He doesn’t do it. Instead, he pokes Leon in the side with his toe and smiles weakly when he gets an irritated grunt in return and a heavy hand gripping his ankle.

Connor does his duty as Captain and hosts one last team barbecue in his absurd house that makes him feel like a zoo exhibit. He says goodbye to Leon for the summer—every year, it feels stilted and weird; he can never find the right words, but he thinks Leon gets it anyway. Or at least some of it. Not that Connor really knows what “it” is.

Not that Connor really wants to know what “it” is.

Connor swallows down the lump in his throat and turns his phone off, settling in for the flight from LAX to Brisbane, Australia—apparently, Jeff took him literally. He can’t help but think What the fuck am I doing? But that’s the point, right? To not think.

For once in his life, it would be nice to just do something without thinking about it endlessly. To just do something without thinking through the whole play, without reviewing the tape and dissecting everything that could go wrong.

He pops a sleeping pill with the hope that maybe it means he won’t spend the 15-hour flight ruminating on whether or not he should be doing this at all. And then ruminating on whether or not he should be ruminating on whether or not— Yeah. Five hours of rumination he can do—he does it often with the NHL schedule and the Edmonton of it all—but 15 hours seems to be a stretch even for him. So, he pops a sleeping pill.

Besides, he hopes that if he’s asleep, he won’t have to make any more eye contact with the flight attendant whose hand Connor accidentally touched when he helped Connor put away his carry-on. He kept making such earnest conversation with Connor, a smile crinkling the corners of his dazzling green eyes as Connor embarrassingly fumbled over his words, which—

Yeah, he needs to get a grip. And sleep. Hopefully, when he wakes up, he will feel a little less mortified—from experience, unlikely. At least the guy was Australian and didn’t seem to know who he was.

Connor wonders if he would be like this if he worked in something mundane, like finance or sales. If he’s destined to be this way, or if hockey made him this way. At this point, it was impossible to determine where Connor ends and McDavid-97 begins.

Luckily, hockey means he gets the good pills, at least, and he is knocked out for at least 12 hours.

Connor spends the first few weeks in a weird state of suspended animation, just going through the motions of his off-season training. He meets the trainers, who seem to have been briefed by Gary on what he needs and throws himself into the work. No one recognizes him except for a couple of the guys at the rink. But they don’t bother him. It’s a relief. He thinks he understands why Leon fucks off to Mallorca every summer. He wonders why he doesn’t fuck off to Mallorca with him—something else to not examine further.

He takes himself to the beach and watches the surfers and tries to remember to reapply sunscreen every 30 minutes, or whatever, even though it’s “winter”. He fails, of course, and burns bright red after only a few days. He’s forced to return only in the late afternoons.

He finds a pub-thing between his condo and the beach and sits at the bar for dinner every day; nothing better to do. He orders a beer with his dinner at the bartender’s suggestion. He hates it. He drinks it anyway. The bartender—Connor thinks he said his name was Lucky?—probably thinks he’s an absolute freak, judging by the little glances he throws Connor’s way and the amused look he has every time Connor orders.

It doesn’t help that Lucky is kind of stunning. It’s a thought that Connor usually keeps locked up, stuffed in some deep crevice of his mind where he won’t have to examine it, but the longer he watches Lucky—not that he’s watching, he just happens to be at the bar every night, and there’s not much else to do—the more he notices.

Connor watches the messy mop of curls fall in front of his eyes every time he bends over to put ice in a drink and the way he brushes it away with the back of a toned, tattooed forearm. It’s hard to tell exactly how dark his hair is or what the color of his eyes is in the dim interior of the pub, but Connor finds himself itching to know.

But the thing that Connor thinks about as he lays in bed at night is the way Lucky interacts with everyone—playful, easy. He notices the way he flirts—and the guys he flirts with. There’s this weird tightness that settles in his gut, and it twists every time he catches Lucky’s bright smile and the glint in his eyes.

There are an increasing number of days when Connor feels the need to stay until closing. There are a few other regulars he’s gotten to know, and it’s fun to hear about their lives. They will chat with Lucky as he’s cleaning up the bar. 

It has nothing to do with the way Lucky will sometimes take some guy home. Nothing to do with the way it’s just out in the open. Bold, confident, and unashamed. There are never any side-long glances from anyone, no snide comments.

Connor is completely unable to ignore the way his chest feels too small every time it happens. He wonders if he could ever do that. He wonders if he could even look at the thing head-on.

He thinks maybe Gold Coast Connor could.

It takes him until the night before his flight to the NHL awards to decide that Gold Coast Connor can make moves. Gold Coast Connor has the confidence and freedom that Connor McDavid does not. Gold Coast Connor is funny and banters with strangers.

Connor McDavid knows to never have more than two drinks. It affects his performance the next day.

That’s why Gold Coast Connor has 5 or 6. Switches to whiskey after the usual disgusting beer. Lucky chuckles at him.

“I knew you hated that. Was trying to see how long you were gonna keep drinking that for. You should see the face you make every sip.”

Connor's face heats; he knows the ruddy red cheeks look ridiculous against his messy ginger beard.

After the third drink, Lucky shoots him a look. He responds with only a shrug, and he seems to decide to not press the issue.

He knows he’s drunk when he shoots his shot.

“Come home with me today,” he says to Lucky, leaning over the bar conspiratorially.

He laughs, smile wide and easy, eyes wrinkling. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Lucky’s smile shifts, and he stares at Connor for a long moment, lips pressed together. The weight of the look sits heavy on him and makes him squirm. He fights the urge to run.

“Yeah, nah,” Lucky decides, “I think it’s time to cut you off. Switch to water.”

Connor suddenly realizes how this must look to him. “I’m serious,” he blurts out, “about the offer, I mean.”

Lucky laughs. “Good to know.” He winks, and Connor feels very warm. “But you’re six drinks deep when you usually only have one beer. Whatever this—” he gestures at Connor “—is, I’m not sure I want to get involved in that.”

His stomach sinks like a rock, and bile licks at the back of his throat. “Oh.” About twenty different thoughts battle in his mind, fighting for dominance.

Lucky looks at him consideringly and sighs. “Connor, it’s not a no. It’s a not today. Trust me, I am very interested. You’re—Look, you’re going on your business trip tomorrow, right?”

Connor nods.

“Okay, talk to me when you get back, yeah?” He leans in—it makes his biceps pop, but Connor tries not to let his eyes catch on it—something akin to amusement dances in his eyes as his lips curl into a smirk. “You can wait that long. You can be good, can’t you?”

A heat settles in Connor’s gut. “Uh, yeah,” he splutters.

Lucky leans back, his smirk bigger now, satisfied. “I thought you’d be into that. Yeah, we’ll have some fun when you get back.”

Connor swallows thickly; something that might be hope simmers under his skin.

The good feeling Lucky leaves him with doesn’t last long. It starts with the mountain of texts, missed calls, and voicemails that come through as soon as he puts his normal SIM card back in.

It only gets worse when he’s faced with Leon’s fury. Leon is pissed off often, but it is rare to see him genuinely angry.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Leon fumes, steel grey eyes not even a foot from his face as he grips Connor’s arm so tightly he thinks it might bruise.

“Um, look—”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Leon continues right over Connor’s soft voice. “I had to call your agent just to make sure you were still alive. Hey—at least Cameron got a text, right? Nice of you to not ghost your family, I guess. Guess I didn’t make the cut, eh?”

“Leo, I’m s—”

“You know,” Leon grits, “I was going to fly back to Canada ‘cause I thought something had happened to you. But, no. Glad you’re living it up in Australia. Glad you’re having so much fun.” He drops Connor’s arm and steps back, chest heaving as he breathes heavily. “Well, if you don’t want anything to do with me, then you can have nothing to do with me.”

“Leo, please—” Connor’s voice breaks as his throat burns and his chest tightens like a vice grip.

“Fuck you, Connor. Seriously, you’re a fucking selfish asshole,” he says as he walks away, the door of Connor’s hotel room slamming behind him.

It takes too long for Connor to remember how to breathe after that, sitting on the floor of his hotel room, staring at his shaking hands.

The day somehow gets worse from there when he has to ask Mikael Backlund, of all people, why Matthew has a sling on.

Backlund gives him a strange look. “Wh—Chucky?”

“Yeah,” Connor swallows.

After a beat of silence, he says, “He broke his sternum. Game 3 of the finals against Vegas. Played in Game 4 anyway. Didn’t matter in the end.” Backlund winces. “They lost in 5.”

“Oh,” Connor winces in return.

Backlund stares at him for a while. “Heard it was pretty bad.”

“Shit.”

The festivities continue around them. He gives a cordial nod to Nico Hischier and Jack Hughes as they walk past.

“I thought you two were friends; that’s what Chucky used to say anyway,” Backlund finally says.

“We are,” Connor swallows around the guilt sitting in his throat. “I just, uh, needed a break, so I was—Never mind. It looks like duty calls, so I’ll be—” Connor forces himself to stand up and gestures towards the event people waving at him. “Have a good night. See you next season.”

Backlund nods with an expression Connor can’t quite place—he thinks it might be pity.

Connor sleeps so poorly over the next few days, and it’s a wonder he’s coherent when he meets the Bedard kid. He feels horribly ill-equipped to give the kid any advice and fumbles through some generic pointers. Leon was much better, as he usually is at these things.

At least the time together allowed him to earn back some of Leon’s good graces. They part with a promise of photos and texts and a hug that makes Connor feel unmoored. He wonders if Leon can tell he’s barely holding it together and just doesn’t care enough to ask anymore. He hopes not. He really needs it to not be that.

I guess we can add ‘friendship’ to the list of things Connor McDavid can’t do, he thinks. When he closes his eyes, he can only picture Leon’s furious expression, or Backlund’s confused disappointment, or Matthew’s annoyingly amused smirk when Connor finally had the chance to catch up with him and explain his absence. 

Leon’s anger is still the one that stings the most. It’s the one that plays on a loop in his head. It pops into his head at unexpected moments. It’s kept company with all the other failures and misses that haunt him.

He doesn’t sleep a wink on the flight back to Australia. 

It takes Connor a few days to work up the courage to go to the pub again, now more sure than ever that he made a fool of himself the last time. But, eventually, he forces himself to just do it—it has nothing to do with his inability to cook.

Lucky greets him, same as always, with an easy smile and a glint in his eye. It’s so normal that it makes him think Lucky forgot about their last conversation. But, something about the way he reaches across the bar and taps Connor on the wrist as he laughs at some dumb comment Connor made. Or maybe it’s the wink he sends Connor when he catches Connor staring at the way his shirt rides up when he reaches for the top-shelf liquor…

Either way, Connor knows deep down that Lucky definitely remembers their conversation. Which means Lucky knows something about Connor that no one else does. 

It’s a thought that should make his chest tighten and stomach churn—the idea of it alone would usually send him down a paralyzing spiral—but instead, it makes him feel feverish, a small crackle of expectation settling just below his navel. There’s just something about Lucky that eases something in his chest—Well, there just is something about him.

Neither of them do anything about it, though. Connor can’t decide if he’s disappointed or relieved.

A few days later, it’s almost closing and it’s quiet in the pub. There’s tennis on the TV: Wimbledon, Connor thinks, possibly a replay. He isn’t really paying attention. If he’s honest, he’s never really got tennis. Leon likes it, though, so he watches when it’s on.

“So,” Lucky says, interrupting Connor’s trance. He’s leaning against the bar back, polishing a glass—it makes the muscles in his forearm ripple. Connor pointedly doesn’t stare.

“So?” Connor says weakly. He knows. And he knows that Lucky knows he knows. He still doesn’t acknowledge it. He quickly looks around to check if anyone is close by.

“Did you still wanna come home with me?” Lucky says.

He just drops it into the space between them like it’s nothing. He just says it like it doesn’t turn Connor’s world upside down and his guts inside out.

Deep down, Connor knows that he could say no and Lucky would never mention it again. No hard feelings. Easy. They could both pretend like it never happened. Which is what Connor should want—it is what Connor wants. Which is why Connor is going to say no.

“Yeah.” It comes out close to a whisper, but it doesn’t need to be audible because Lucky smiles. Connor feels his cheeks heat, and it’s like every inch of skin suddenly fires up like live wire. 

Lucky turns around and places the glass on the shelf, and Connor blows out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding in a puff. 

“Good,” Lucky says when he turns back around, “‘cause I already asked Kazza to close out for me tonight. I just need to grab something from the office, and then I’m good to go.”

Connor swallows. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Lucky runs his bottom lip through his teeth consideringly before he flashes Connor a heated grin and walks away. 

Connor waits for the pang of regret or guilt to hit; something to tell him to put a stop to this. It doesn’t come. All he feels is the prickling simmer of anticipation.

“Connor?” Lucky says, poking his head around the corner.

“Huh?”

“I meant for you to follow me,” he chuckles.

“Oh!” Connor scrambles to get out of the bar stool—it’s an entirely ungraceful affair—and follows Lucky and waits in the hall.

When he emerges from the office, he hands an envelope to Connor. “Can you hold this for a sec? Just need to put my jacket on.”

“Yeah, sure.” Connor looks down at the envelope, which has Lachlan written in Sharpie on the front. “Who’s this for?”

Lucky freezes and cocks his head. “What?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—It’s just on the—Nevermind. Don’t worry about it,” Connor mumbles.

“No, no. Wait.” He shakes his head and huffs. “It’s me? Lachlan, that’s my name?” He pronounces it like Lock-lan, which confuses Connor more.

“What do you mean?” 

“Lachy… It’s short for Lachlan?”

“It is?” Connor furrows his eyebrows.

“Yeah, mate! What have you been calling me?”

“I thought your name was Lucky!”

Lucky—or Lachy?—bursts out laughing, snorting a little as he clutches his sides. “I thought you were just saying it weird,” he manages to get out between laughs.

Connor rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I mean, it was loud in there when you introduced yourself, so…” he lets himself trail off. He shifts on his feet, looking at the carpet.

Lachy shakes his head, still chuckling as he grabs Connor’s hand at the wrist. “Come on, this way.”

“It’s a bit weird now ‘cause I’ve been calling you Lucky all this time, and you’re Lucky in my head. I guess I have to change that now,” Connor murmurs, largely to himself.

Lachy hums. He tugs on Connor’s wrist and pulls him forward, swallowing the space between them as he backs them into a door. In a snap second, it’s like all the air has left the room, the world around them focusing in on the one point of contact at Connor’s wrist. Lachy’s hand is warm as it applies some pressure.

There is a beat of silence where Connor doesn’t know what to do but look. The lighting is a little better back here, and it catches on the strands of Lachy’s hair that have been lightened by the sun. In this lighting, Connor thinks Lachy’s eyes might be hazel or maybe a warm amber. He feels an inexplicable need to find out. 

The thing that catches Connor off-guard is the way he has to look down at Lachlan. Connor knew that he’s shorter—has seen him with his coworkers to compare—but it didn’t prepare him for the way it feels. The way that Lachy’s everything makes him feel pinned in place even as he towers over him—the six inches or so of height difference feels meaningless under his heated gaze.

Lachy reaches back with his free hand and grabs the door handle.

“You can keep calling me Lucky if you want, seeing as you’ll be getting Lucky tonight, right?” The corner of Lachy's lip ticks up in a smirk as he bites back a laugh. He leans in. “You can call me whatever you like once I’m inside you.”

Connor chokes. “Um, okay?” he squeaks, spluttering.

Lachy—Lucky?—leans his head back against the door and laughs. There is no explanation for the way the sound seeps into Connor, reaching every single crevice. It should be embarrassing to be this affected by someone’s laugh. Connor doesn’t have time to explore that thought further as Lucky pushes the door open and pulls Connor with him into the cool evening air.

The walk to Lucky’s place is not very long. But it is enough time for Connor to feel the ever-present doubt creeping in, even as Lucky tells him a funny story about a collision he saw while he was surfing that morning. He’s standing so close. Close enough that he can feel the heat of Lucky’s arm against his own. Closer than is normal for two guys casually strolling down the street, which—

Connor knows they’re not just two guys walking down the street. Not at all. He can still feel the anticipation simmering under his skin even as the cold air cuts through his thin sweater.

He tries to focus on the fact that the streets are empty, except for the occasional car, and no one knows him here. Here, he’s just Connor. So he tries not to let the looming shadow of his Name dig its claws in.

The thing is… he has a guy—a really hot guy who definitely knows what he’s doing—who is willing to take Connor home. A guy who seems to be into his disheveled and awkward self for some reason. A guy who inexplicably makes Connor feel safe, thousands of miles away from home and away from everything and everyone he knows.

Connor should take this gift with both hands and say thank you like the good Canadian boy that he is.

He thinks about the visualization exercises and pictures himself taking off the Edmonton Oilers jersey with McDavid 97 on the back and the C on the front. He pictures himself handing it over to Australian customs along with the apple he had forgotten was in his bag.

Connor barely has time to even look at Lucky’s apartment before he’s crowded against the door. Connor sucks in a steadying breath.

Lucky looks up at him, his warm breath tickling Connor’s neck. “I’m sorry if I smell like beer; I know you don’t like beer.”

Connor makes an affronted noise. “I do so like beer. I just don’t like—”

Lucky huffs and cuts him off by slamming his lips on Connor’s. Connor lets out a little squeak of surprise before his body takes over. His eyes flutter shut as he takes in the warmth of Lucky’s soft lips.

It feels so foreign when Lucky slides his tongue over Connor’s bottom lip; the wet heat surprises him and makes him open his mouth instinctively. He’s rewarded as Lucky pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and nibbles on it slightly. Connor finds out he enjoys that as he bites back a groan.

Lucky’s hands move from the door behind Connor to rest on his hips, fingers applying gentle but firm pressure. His hands feel so warm Connor wonders if they would leave handprints for the world to see, like a brand.

Lucky makes a noise against his mouth that Connor can’t interpret. He hums a questioning sound and finds that it tickles a little. He finds out he likes that, too.

Lucky’s hands pull away, much to his dismay, only to grab Connor’s own hands and place them on his sides—Connor runs his hands down the firmness of his obliques and gives them an appreciative squeeze, earning him an approving sound as Lucky rests his hands on Connor’s chest.

Connor doesn’t know how long they just stay like that, kissing languidly as he slowly becomes more exploratory with his touches, sliding his hands over Lucky’s defined back. And Lucky returns the favor, running his hands over Connor’s chest—through the sweater material, it just feels like broad warm pressure—before reaching up to the nape of Connor’s neck and moving him the way he wants to deepen the kiss.

The wet, hot slide of their mouths feels so nice that Connor thinks maybe they could just stay doing this forever. But Lucky has other plans; he slides his hands under Connor’s sweater and hums appreciatively at what he finds. His hands travel up Connor’s chest; when he slides his hands directly over Connor’s nipples, Connor has to choke down a whine.

Connor’s hands move of their own accord, sliding down Lucky’s back and over his generous ass. His pressure is light, but it doesn’t stop Lucky from rocking forward and onto his tiptoes, stealing all the air from between their bodies. In doing so, he presses his hard dick right into Connor’s, the slide sending an electric shock through his body. They both moan at the same time.

Connor suddenly becomes acutely aware of how hard he is and the slight wet patch at the front of his boxers. Connor sucks in a breath through his nose. If he had known this was happening today, he would’ve jerked off before going to the pub. Hell—if he had even a second, he would’ve jerked off in the pub’s bathroom. Anything to take the edge off.

As it stands, Connor feels unable to get a hold of his restraint, like he’s reaching out to grab something just out of reach. It makes him feel underwater and suddenly too aware of all the sensations at once: the filthy slide of their mouths, Lucky’s thumbs rubbing over his nipples, the friction as Lucky grinds their clothed cocks together. It’s all too much as Connor feels his restraint fraying.

“Lucky,” Connor mumbles against his lips.

“Mmm,” he hums, leaning back a little.

This time, when Lucky slides his hands down Connor’s chest, he claws his hands, and his dull nails scrape over Connor’s nipples, drawing an unrestrained moan as he arches into Lucky.

“Fuck, you’re so sensitive,” Lucky mumbles as his hands continue to travel south, as he recaptures Connor’s lips in a messy kiss.

His mind feels fragmented. Split between needing this to stop so he doesn’t come way too soon, ruining the whole thing, and needing to come so bad he thinks he might die. But he can’t figure out how to put that into words, so he just floats in the liminal space between the two.

He feels Lucky slide hook his fingers over the waistband of his jeans and boxers, and it takes him a second too long to figure out what’s happening as Lucky’s hand dips inside. It’s just the brush of a hand over his bare dick, but it’s more than he’s gotten in almost ten years, and Connor panics.

“Wait—no—” he blurts out, muffled by Lucky’s mouth. 

Connor grabs Lucky’s hand and yanks it out of his pants, but it’s too late. He squeezes his eyes shut as he fights the shudder that travels through his whole body as he comes, largely untouched, in his too-expensive jeans.

He tucks his chin to his chest, face flaring so hot he must be bright red. He takes a few breaths to steady himself before he opens his eyes and dares to look up at Lucky.

He immediately winces at what he sees. Connor feels like he actually might die and prays for the ground to swallow him whole.

Lucky’s jaw clicks, his expression one that Connor has never seen on his handsome face before. One of hurt and confusion. Connor swallows.

“Is this a gay panic thing? Because I hate to break it to you, we’d been rubbing cocks for like twenty minutes,” he says, voice low and even.

“What? No! No, it’s not—” Connor stutters, “That’s not—No.”

“Right.” Lucky raises his eyebrows; he clearly doesn’t believe him. 

Connor realizes he is still clutching Lucky’s wrist so tightly it must hurt; he lets it go completely. Lucky takes a few steps back, and Connor misses the heat of his body immediately. He feels the edges of panic closing in, so he just speaks.

“No, I promise. That’s not what’s happening. I’ve known since I was like ten that maybe—” His eyes dart around the room, and his eyes fixate on all the little trinkets around Lucky’s house—it’s kind of adorable. He takes a deep breath. Fuck it. “No. I’ve known since I was 10. I’ve just never… told anyone before. Or done anything. That was… That was great. I really liked it. You’ve done nothing wrong. I’m so—” He runs his hands down his face. “Trust me, that is not what’s wrong. God, I want to die right now.”

His eyes affix to the surfboard mounted above the couch, a point just over Lucky’s left shoulder. It’s suffocatingly silent for a moment as Lucky looks him over. 

“Wait,” Lucky says, his voice low and tight, “Did you just… come?”

Connor drops his head in his hands and straight-up whines.

“Oh my god,” Lucky whispers. “Holy shit.”

Connor wonders if it’s possible to just travel through the door like a ghost. Or maybe blink out of existence.

There’s a shuffling sound before gentle hands on his wrists pull them away from his face. “Woah, hey, Connor. No worries, yeah? It’s okay. Don’t be embarrassed.”

“Easy for you to say,” he mumbles. Connor thinks about all the guys Lucky’s fucked before and wonders if any of them had ever come in their pants after being lightly grazed by a hand. Of course, he would be a failure at this, too.

“Baby,” Lucky’s voice is so gentle, “I’m serious, okay? You have nothing to be embarrassed about. That’s… Seriously, oh my fucking God, Connor, that is fucking hot.”

“It is?”

“Yeah, baby, it is.” He gently clasps Connor’s chin so he has to look at him and smiles softly. “Come on, maybe let’s take a break.”

“Oh.” Connor’s chest feels too tight. “Do you wanna stop? I’m sorry. I can go if you want. I’m sorry for ruining it for you.” He knows his voice sounds odd, but he’s too panicked to care.

“Stop? Who said anything about stopping?” Lucky chuckles. “Unless you want to stop, I am very much still very interested.” He directs Connor’s hand to the front of his jeans, where the hard outline of his cock twitches in Connor’s palm. “Trust me. Very. Interested. But I can wait for a second. Come on, lemme get us a drink.”

Lucky walks over to a bar cart and pours two whiskeys. Connor wonders if he should leave anyway, if he’s just being nice. Sure, he’s still hard, but does he really want Connor, the guy who came from a light breeze in his entryway? Connor thinks about all the guys he’s seen Lucky take home before, and he just knows he’s going to be the worst—or at least, the most disappointing. Maybe it would be less embarrassing for everyone if he left now.

Lucky walks over and leans against the kitchen counter opposite him and hands him the drink with a soft smile. 

Connor determines that he should probably stay, given he’s come once already, and Lucky hasn’t come at all. And that’s probably unfair.

“So,” Lucky says, “Earlier, you said that you’ve never told anyone you’re gay?” Connor shakes his head. “And you’ve never… done anything?”

Connor sighs. In for a penny, in for a pound, or whatever. “Yeah. That’s right.”

“Really? Never?” Lucky says, slightly incredulous.

“Well, there was like once or twice in juniors—high school, I mean, uh. Bro-jobs, or whatever, on, uh, school trips.” He shakes his head. “It just felt wrong ‘cause they weren’t gay, but I was. And it felt a little like I was taking advantage of it. So I stopped.”

Lucky snorts. “Well, sucking cock is pretty gay if you ask me.”

It pulls an unsuspecting laugh out of Connor. “I guess. I don’t know. That’s not what I meant—I guess—it was just different for me.” Connor shrugs and bites his lip. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I never did anything again after that.”

“Like… nothing?” Lucky asks, not unkindly.

“Yeah. Nothing.” Connor sighs. “I think you’re the first person I’ve kissed in like almost ten years. God, that’s so embarrassing to say out loud. You probably think I’m so fucking weird.”

Lucky reaches over and squeezes his arm. “Hey, I don’t think that’s embarrassing. Or weird. Different strokes, or whatever. It is what it is.”

Connor didn’t set out to have this conversation. Realistically, he never thought he would ever even have this conversation—not at least for another ten years. But something about the earnest way Lucky’s looking at him makes him want to say it. Like it’s suddenly something that’s clawing at his throat to get out.

“I just…” Connor pauses and worries at his lip again. “It’s different for me. I…” He takes a really deep breath and blows it out. “I work in the sports industry, and, unfortunately, being gay is still a pretty big deal in my line of work.”

“Shit,” Lucky nods. “That sucks.”

“I guess a little part of me always thought that if I didn’t say it out loud to anyone or do anything about it, then it was just something about me that was just for me to know. Something that other people don’t get to know about me. I guess in the process, I stopped really acknowledging it, even to myself. It’s weird. I’m not ashamed of it, but I also don’t want people to know. Which must mean I am ashamed of it, I guess. I don’t know.” Connor clears his throat to push through the tightness there. “I’ve never known another option. Like, I knew this was what I had to do from when I figured it out at 10. It’s like… if this is your reality, you might as well accept it and move on, you know?”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not painful, though. It still sucks. I’m sorry.” 

Connor shrugs as Lucky lets it hang in the air for a bit.

“Am I the first person you’ve told?” Lucky asks.

“Yeah.”

“Wow… that’s…” Lucky smiles. “Congratulations, Connor. That’s a big deal. Thank you for trusting me with that.”

Connor blows out a breath, and it comes out long and shaky. Despite that, his chest feels looser, like one of the invisible chains that wrap around his body loosened. “Yeah.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a bit as they sip their whiskeys, deep in thought. Connor takes the chance to look over Lucky in the bright kitchen lights. Connor finally determines that he has hazel eyes. They’re largely amber with flecks of green, and it makes him feel warm. It reminds him of the start of autumn and the beginning of the hockey season and the hope that comes with it.

The muscles in Lucky’s forearm ripples as he taps his fingers on the countertop to an unknown beat. It makes Connor think of the little hints of his body under the fitted black shirt and black pants. He knows from the way his shirt stretches when he reaches for a high shelf that Lucky has a broad, defined back. He’s seen enough of his arms and hands to fuel his fantasies for weeks. And what he’s seen of his ass and thighs makes him want to dig his fingers in, just to see what happens. Lucky just looks so handsome, beautiful, hot that it makes his head spin a little.

A flash of heat rolls over Connor as he remembers the feeling of the solid planes of Lucky’s body against his. Connor’s a professional athlete. He’s seen so many naked male bodies in peak physical form so many times and felt nothing that he sometimes questions whether he is actually into men. Of course, there’s always someone who would knock him away from that thought like an 18-wheeler truck. Either way, he doesn’t look in the locker room. Rarely even wants to.

This time, though, it’s Lucky. And he’s not a teammate. And he’s gay. And, for some inexplicable reason, he wants to fuck Connor—a thought that sends another wave of molten heat through his veins.

He shuffles on his feet and feels the uncomfortable wet patch in his pants and flushes. Something catches Lucky’s eye because he raises an eyebrow slightly and cocks his head. It’s a minuscule moment, but Connor catches it, and the way the air seems to shift.

Connor thinks about how he’s already here, everything out on the table. Connor thinks about how he might never get this opportunity again—at least not for another ten years—needs to make the most of it. Connor thinks about the weight of Lucky’s hard cock in his hand. Connor—

“So,” Connor finds himself saying, “Are we gonna fuck tonight or…?”

Lucky throws his head back and laughs. It exposes the long line of his neck, and—Connor doesn’t know if it’s the whiskey or some other form of intoxication, but he has a sudden overwhelming urge to bite it, lick it, kiss it.

So he does.

He closes the space between them in one big step and leans down to run his teeth along Lucky’s neck. He moans in response, a deep rumbling sound that tickles his lips. Connor licks it and savors the flavor of salty sweat and the aroma of heady musk. 

“Yeah, baby,” Lucky groans, his fingers finding purchase on Connor's hips and gripping firmly, “I’m going to make this so good for you.” He tilts his head and captures Connor’s lips in a heated kiss. 

This kiss is different to the one at the door. It’s more urgent, incessant, purposeful. It’s messy as their teeth clash and tongues slide against each other. Lucky bites down on Connor’s lip harder than before, and he moans. Connor sucks on Lucky’s tongue, earning a moan of his own, before letting go with a pop.

“What do you want, Connor?” Lucky murmurs against his lips.

“I want you to fuck me,” Connor blurts out, the words spilling out.

Lucky freezes for a split second, almost imperceptible, before shaking his head lightly. Connor feels the stab deep in his gut; the sting of rejection hits him by surprise, and it hurts—more than he thought it would. He tries to pull away.

Lucky shakes his head. “No, I just mean, I’m not gonna fuck you tonight.”

Connor furrows his brows, feeling confused, still trying to step away.

“Connor. Not on your first night. You’re not ready.” Lucky squeezes Connor’s hip. “Next time though…”

Connor freezes. “Next time? There’s a next time?” he hears himself say, voice small and quiet.

“Yeah, baby. If you’re game, there will be as many next times as you want before you leave. You’re here for a few more months, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, breathless.

Connor doesn’t know who closes the gap between them, their lips meeting in a heated kiss once again. Lucky guides him backward until he bumps up against the counter of the kitchen island again. He hears the empty whiskey glass clink as his body knocks it back a few inches.

“So, what are we gonna do then?” Connor asks nervously as Lucky kisses down his jaw and neck.

“Oh, there are plenty of ways I can make you feel good, baby, don’t you worry,” Lucky says against the neck, the puffs of air tickling him. 

“Oh,” Connor breathes.

He leans back. “Luckily,” he winks, beaming, “you’re in very good hands.”

It takes Connor a second to process the joke before a surprised giggle escapes his lips.

Lucky pushes his sweater up, exposing his stomach and chest. Lucky flicks a tongue over one nipple and a thumb over the other. Connor groans, his hands tightening on Lucky’s shirt.

“So sensitive,” Lucky laughs into his skin as he kisses his way down Connor’s front. “So pink. God, you’re so flushed, too. It goes all the way down to… I need to know if…”

Connor doesn’t have time to even process the way Lucky looks on his knees between his legs because Lucky is popping the buttons on his jeans and pulling his jeans and boxers down in one motion.

His dick bobs free, already achingly hard again. The swollen head glistens, wet with a mix of his come from before and the new beads of pre-come collecting at the tip. The air feels uncomfortably cold against him, and it makes him squirm. 

He’s not uncomfortable for long, though, because Lucky wraps one hand around the base of his dick and squeezes firmly before running a hot tongue up the shaft. Connor’s breath catches in his chest. 

He’s given no time to process the sensation before Lucky sucks the head into his mouth, bobbing once before sucking him all the way down with a salacious wink. Connor groans and is, for the first time this evening, happy that he’s come already because it is the only reason he doesn’t blow it from that alone.

Lucky moves, bobbing up and down, his hands resting on Connor’s hipbones, holding him still. It is impossibly hot and impossibly wet and impossibly tight. Connor doesn’t even know what sensation to focus on; the only thing he can think is fuck, that feels so good.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” he moans, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to get a handle on his ragged breathing.

He has nothing really to compare this to, but he doesn’t need to compare anything because he feels as though he is on fire, sweat prickling all over him as he focuses on not coming. He focuses on the tension and heat that settles in his gut. 

It’s so different than when he touches himself; it’s just so much more. More everything, everywhere. The sounds, the smells—he hasn’t even opened his eyes yet. He thinks that maybe he can’t open his eyes and see what this looks like from a real POV perspective because seeing it would ruin his life.

Connor likes to think that as a professional athlete, he has conditioned himself to have great control over his body. A theory that is being very much tested as moans and curses fall from his mouth without his input at all.

“God, fuck,” he rasps, his hoarse voice sounds insanely erotic. “Lucky…” Lucky swirls his tongue over the head as he moves himself up and down Connor’s dick. “Lachy… Fuck. Lachlan,” he moans.

Lucky hums—Connor feels it all the way up his spine—and pulls off with a pop. “Say it again.” His hand moves to lazily slide up and down his shaft.

“What?”

“My name. Say it again.” His voice sounds even more fucked than Connor’s; it makes his head spin.

“Lachlan,” he says softly.

Lucky smiles and makes a low noise of approval before sucking Connor back down, all while keeping his eyes pinned on Connor, who can’t look away.

“Oh fuck, Lachlan,” he says, and he’s rewarded with another groan. “You look so good. You feel so good. This is… ahh…”

His hands are gripping the kitchen counter so hard it hurts. The view of Lucky’s shiny red lips stretched over him is too much, his hold on his self-control close to faltering. 

He closes his eyes and lets his head hang back; he’s unable to bite down the keening sound that escapes when Lucky flicks his tongue along the frenulum. The symphony of sound in the room sounds so filthy Connor thinks he would be flushing even pinker if he could. But he knows he’s already flushed red from his face to his dick that’s disappearing into Lucky’s incredible mouth.

Connor thinks about Leo and what he would say if he saw this. He wonders if he would be disgusted. If he’d never talk to him off the ice again. If he’d request a trade. If he would lose his best friend. He thinks about what the people would say if they saw him like this—Cam, his parents, his teammates, his agent—

Lucky’s hand slides down Connor’s shaft to the root and traces the line between his balls that are wound up high and tight against his body. His dick throbs inside Lucky’s mouth, and he feels more than hears Lucky’s moan of appreciation.

He decides he shouldn't be thinking of anything at all. However, the decision is more or less taken out of his hands when Lucky presses a finger behind his balls with such incredible precision his knees almost buckle.

The movement causes him open his eyes, and he watches as he accidentally fucks into Lucky’s mouth. Lucky’s dark lashes are wet, and his hazel eyes glisten as they look up at Connor as he fights against a choke, eyes fluttering shut in concentration. Connor thinks he’s never going to forget this moment, the way this looks. Even if this is only a one-time thing, it’s worth it.

Lucky reached up to grab Connor’s hand and place it in his hair. Connor cards his fingers through the soft curls. Lucky rolls his eyes humorously before pulling off.

“Fuck my face, Connor,” he rasps.

“Oh… Oh, fuck,” Connor whispers, hands shaking slightly as they move to grip his hair.

Lucky waits, mouth open, as he reaches one hand between his own pants. Connor watches as Lucky wraps a hand around his own cock, and feels compelled to say something.

“No,” he says.

“No?” Lucky furrows his brow.

“No, don’t—I want to get you. After—”

“Oh,” Lucky breathes, “Fuck, yeah. Okay.”

Connor watches as Lucky gives himself a firm squeeze before pulling his hand out and placing it on his broad thigh. He looks up at Connor and smiles before opening his mouth again, tongue hanging out over his bottom teeth. Connor groans as his dick kicks, another bead of precome collecting at the tip. Lucky leans forward and licks it off lightly.

Connor swears before grabbing his dick in one hand and Lucky’s hair in the other before feeding his dick into Lucky’s awaiting mouth. The heat, and wetness, and tightness puts him on edge immediately as his hand clenches, pulling Lucky’s hair tighter. His moan vibrates against Connor’s dick, and he feels it resonate inside every bone in his body. The urge to come is suddenly close to overwhelming. 

He keeps his eyes open this time as he rocks into Lucky’s mouth experimentally, watching for any sign of discomfort. As if reading his mind, Lucky rolls his eyes and makes a brief movement with his hands. It surprises a chuckle out of Connor as he relents.

He brushes over Lucky’s lips reverently with the hand that was gripping the base of his dick before he moves it to cup the back of Lucky’s head as he starts to fuck deeper into his throat. With each thrust, he feels the control he barely had fray and unravel.

His pace quickens, hitting the back of Lucky’s throat on every thrust. Lucky places his hand back on Connor’s hip to steady himself as Connor fucks his face. The tension in his groin feels impossibly taut.

“Lachlan, fuck, you’re incredible,” he murmurs. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.” 

Lucky hums and grips his hip tighter so Connor doesn’t even think about pulling out. Their eyes lock, Connor unable to look away as Lucky cups his aching balls in his hand, reaching behind to the spot, and presses his fingers deep, plunging Connor over the edge.

Connor moans his name as he spills down Lucky’s throat, the world going hazy as his balls tighten and throb. He thinks the only thing that keeps him upright is all the years of balancing on knives on ice.

He gently eases Lucky off his dick, realizing suddenly just how tightly he was clutching his hair. 

“Sorry, was that,” Connor says, his voice hoarse and soft, “Was that okay? Did I hurt you?”

Lucky laughs, shaking his head before tipping forward and burying his face into the crook of Connor’s thigh.

“Yeah, baby, you did so good. A total pro at getting your cock sucked.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Connor rolls his eyes, unable to contain his laughter too.

“Now, there’s an idea,” Lucky says.

“Yeah?” Connor says, voice suddenly small as a wave of heat rushes over him. His spent dick throbs valiantly in interest.

“Oh, yeah,” Lucky hums against his thigh, “Not today though.”

Connor reaches down and pulls Lucky up to stand, supporting his weight a little as he comes off his knees. He leans down and kisses him gently.

“Thank you,” he murmurs against his lips. He can taste the faint flavor of himself on his lips.

“Nah. Yeah, no worries, baby,” Lucky chuckles, “Any time.”

Connor’s body shudders at that thought, and he chooses to push it aside as he feels Lucky’s hard cock against his thigh.

“I want to take care of you. Can I?” he asks quietly.

Lucky hums and pushes a hand under Connor’s sweater, muttering, “Why are we still fucking wearing clothes? And to answer your question, fuck yeah. Come on.”

They fumble, Lucky guiding Connor, who’s walking backward, to the bedroom, their mouths clashing while they finally remove their clothes.

Connor feels his knees knock against the bed as Lucky gives him a slight push, sending him sprawling. His dick unceremoniously flops on his stomach, and Connor feels momentarily embarrassed before he looks up at Lucky.

His breath catches at the sight. Lucky is standing there, naked at the end of the bed, his heated gaze raking down Connor’s body as he strokes himself. Connor is transfixed by the movement. From where he is, Lucky’s dick looks thick, thicker than Connor’s own anyway, maybe a bit shorter. It tapers down to the tip, where the head, red-purple and mouth-wateringly wet, peeks out from the foreskin.

Connor always thought he would be nervous at this moment, unsure. But looking at Lucky, he feels calm, like the moment before his skate hits the fresh ice in pre-game. Every single cell in his body feels dialed into this moment, reaching out to feel Lucky’s skin against his.

His eyes follow the dark trail of hair, from the groomed patch at the base of his cock up to the mat of hair between his nipples. His eyes track the movement of Lucky’s toned arm as he works himself slowly, languidly. He bites his lip as his eyes trail down Lucky’s thick thighs, a carpet of dark hair over them. For some reason, Connor just wants to sink his teeth into the meat of his thigh.

When he finally meets Lucky’s eye, he feels like his soul is going to leave his body. The look is almost predatory, the way his gaze feels heavy, pinning him in place. His eyes are so dark now, his pupils swallowing the beautiful hazel, as his curly hair falls messily over his face.

“You like what you see,” Lucky says gruffly.

“Yeah,” Connor replies, breathless once again.

“Good.” He kneels on the bed, and Connor slides back further onto the bed. “Me too.”

Lucky knee-walks his way up the bed, his thick thighs bracketing Connor’s legs, skin blazingly hot. Connor can’t help but scramble back until his head hits the pillow.

Connor swallows hard when Lucky finally towers over him. The hand not stroking his cock is pressed against the pillow right next to Connor’s head. The view is intoxicating. Connor’s hands twitch at his sides.

“Can I touch you?” he whispers.

Lucky moans and nods, biting his lip.

Connor reaches up and runs his hands over Lucky’s cheek. Lucky’s eyes flutter closed as he leans into it. Connor’s thumbs brush over his thick eyelashes, and then he pulls his bottom lip out from between his teeth. Lucky’s mouth remains slightly parted as Connor slides his hands down his neck, through the thick hair at his chest, down the hard planes of his stomach, and onto his thighs. 

Connor digs his fingers in, earning him a small hiss, and pulls Lucky’s thighs forward so he can sit comfortably on Connor’s stomach. He slides his hands up the back of his thighs, savoring the contrasting rough and soft of his thick leg hair. He takes a moment to knead Lucky’s ample glutes before taking one hand to trace the thick groomed hair at his pelvis.

Lucky’s hard cock sits heavy on Connor’s stomach, the pre-come smearing a little against Connor’s flushed red skin. Lucky wiggles at the light touch, cock kicking, as Connor runs his fingers down the soft velvety skin of the shaft, tracing the snaking veins. He is so transfixed by it, how soft it is, how much it responds to his touch, how hot all of this is—

“Please,” he hears Lucky whisper, a hint of a whine.

Connor blinks and looks up at Lucky, who looks like he’s in a tremendous amount of pain—although Connor knows that’s not what it is. His jaw is clenched, and he’s breathing hard and raggedly.

“Sorry, I just—Sorry,” Connor says softly.

He takes a deep breath before wrapping his hand around the shaft of Lucky’s cock, earning him a deep moan. He pumps his hand experimentally, noting the difference in how it feels in his hand compared to his own dick, before applying more pressure. When Connor slides his hand up and down again, he runs his thumb lightly against the underside of the tip.

“Connor,” Lucky moans above him, his head dropping a little. His curly hair brushes against Connor’s cheek.

He hums, drawing up the play in his head as he continues to repeat the motion. Lucky’s leaking so much that it doesn’t take long before his hand is wet enough to touch the sensitive head without it being uncomfortable—he hopes at least. He alternates his strokes between one that goes from the root to the tip and one that squeezes the head with a slight twist—the way he knows feels good.

“Fuuuuck,” Lucky breathes. His arm is starting to shake a little from where it is next to Connor’s head. Connor turns his head slightly and presses a light kiss to Lucky’s wrist. “Baby, that’s so fucking good.”

Connor smiles and feels his chest puff a little, proud like when a new drill finally clicks. He looks up at Lucky’s face, now flushed with pleasure. He watches as he applies more pressure, watching the way Lucky’s eyes roll behind the closed lids and lips hang open. 

“Yeah, fuck, just like that,” Lucky says. His hand comes up from where it was resting on Connor’s thigh and grabs onto his shoulder, fingers digging in. It hurts, but Connor doesn’t mind.

Connor continues to stroke at an even pace, eyes gliding over Lucky’s face and body, taking it all in. Lucky continues to drop little praises between them, mixed with his moans and curses. Connor feels like he could listen to the way Lucky says his name forever.

It’s not long before Connor notices the way Lucky’s hips start hitching with his strokes and speeds up his hand. He loosens his grip slightly so Lucky can fuck into his hand in time with his strokes. 

“Lachlan,” Connor’s voice sounds hoarse and fucked-out, even to his own ears, “Open your eyes. I want to watch you come.”

Lucky moans and his eyes open, gaze unfocused. Connor is transfixed by his face: the square jawline and full cheeks flushed with pleasure, the way his eyelashes flutter as he struggles to keep his eyes open, the shape of his mouth as he moans Connor’s name over and over.

Connor feels Lucky’s cock get impossibly harder in his hand as his pace becomes more erratic. Connor sees the moment before he comes in his eyes as they roll back, his eyes slamming shut. Connor feels the momentary desperation before the relief in the way Lucky’s fingers clench into the pillow beside his head and into the meat of his shoulder.

He feels the first pulse in the kick of Lucky’s cock in his hand before the cum hits his chest, his name on Lucky’s lips as he comes. He strokes Lucky through his orgasm in even pulls. He feels breathless and in awe and reaches up with his lips to pull Lucky into a deep kiss.

When they pull away, a while after the last pulse Connor feels, Connor is smiling wide. Lucky rolls off him and pants in the bed next to him, his arm draped over his eyes as he catches his breath. Connor stays smiling like an idiot at the ceiling.

“Holy fuck,” Lucky murmurs against his elbow next to him.

Connor hums. “Yeah.”

“No, seriously. Holy fuck.” Lucky knocks his leg against Connor’s. “You’re seriously telling me you’ve never done that before?”

Connor lets his head drop to the side to look at him. “No?”

Lucky peaks an eye out and looks at him. “What are you, some kind of prodigy? What the fuck?”

“Uh…”

“Did you hack my brain? How—I’m serious, Connor. I can’t believe that’s the first handjob you’ve ever given. I think I might’ve died and fucking transcended. Fuck,” he breathes.

“Um… Thanks?” Connor says, unsure, “I guess I’ve spent a lot of time jerking off, so…”

Lucky knocks a knee against him again, harder this time. “Shut the fuck up.”

Connor laughs.

Lucky turns in the bed to face him and smiles dopily. “Do you want me to get you again?”

“Huh?”

Lucky gestures to Connor’s dick, hard and curved up against his stomach.

“Oh! I didn’t even—No, I’m okay. I think I might be fully dry.”

Lucky laughs. “Yeah, okay.” He’s silent for a second. “Hey, Connor?”

“Mmm?”

“Stay, yeah?” he says, voice quiet. 

“Okay,” Connor replies softly.

“You can stay there; I’ll grab you a towel to clean up.”

“Hmm?”

“Your chest?”

“Oh!” he huffs and looks down at the mess on his chest. He runs a finger through the mess and pops it in his mouth, the flavor salty and tangy on his tongue. “Hmm!”

Lucky groans beside him, “Oh my god! What the fuck am I gonna do with you? You’re a fucking menace.”

“What?” Connor asks, confused.

Lucky rolls his eyes and climbs off the bed. “I can’t believe you genuinely don’t know what you do to people, do you? Fuck.”

Connor shrugs, not really following but too content to care.

They wake up facing each other the next morning, the sliver of light streaming in through the curtains illuminating their faces. Their bodies are pressed in close. Close enough that Connor feels Lucky’s morning boner pressing into his own.

Through sleepy blinks, they kiss for a long time, slow and heated, their bodies sliding against each other. Lucky hooks a strong thigh over Connor’s and pulls them even closer together, their hard dicks sliding against each other perfectly.

They moan into each other’s mouths, kissing messily as the sensations build. Eventually, Lucky reaches down and wraps a hand around both of them, rocking against each other. The air in the room feels thick with their pants and moans.

Each slide of Lucky’s cock against Connor’s sends sparks up his spine; the way their heads rub together is unlike anything Connor’s ever felt before. The pressure of Lucky’s hand is light, and it shouldn’t be enough to get him to the edge, but it does faster than he expects.

“Lachlan, I’m gonna come,” he whispers, his voice thick with sleep and arousal.

“Mmm, me too,” Lucky moans.

When Connor comes, it’s nothing like the night before. It’s slow and sensual, waves of heat and pleasure rolling through him like molasses. Lucky follows not long after, covering them both in sticky heat.

Lucky captures Connor’s lips again, resuming their lazy kiss for a little while longer until the mess between them gets to be uncomfortable.

Lucky reaches up with his hand and licks it clean—it unbelievably makes a molten wave of heat roll through Connor’s body again—before he reaches up to cup Connor’s cheek.

“You didn’t panic and run away,” Lucky says evenly, without judgment and maybe even with a sigh of appreciation and wonder.

“Yeah, I guess I didn’t,” Connor smiles. “Why? Did you expect me to?”

Lucky shrugs. “I don’t know, I guess.” He pauses and sighs. “It happens. A lot of guys will have the post-nut clarity, or whatever, and make it clear that they regret what happened. They’ll try to make it real clear they’re “straight” which…” He shakes his head. “Anyway, I didn’t know you wouldn’t do the same. I mean, I hoped you wouldn’t. But…” He trails off and shrugs.

It stings more than Connor expects, and he feels his full-body wince. “Good thing I’m gay then, eh?” he says. 

He didn’t know he was going to say that when he opened his mouth to respond, but he feels with amazing—post-nut—clarity that he is glad he did.

Lucky smiles and it's the smile that makes Connor feel warm and tingly from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. It’s a different heat than before. He imagines it’s the type of heat that sunflowers chase when they supposedly turn to follow the sun.

“I’m glad you stayed,” Lucky says.

“Me too.” Connor leans in and plants a soft kiss on Lucky’s lips.

Lucky hums, content. “Come on. Let’s shower, and then I can make us breakfast.”

Later, when he’s sat at the kitchen island watching Lucky talk animatedly about the merit of sharks of all things while making an incredibly delicious smelling omelet, Connor is struck by the normality of the whole thing.

You could replace Connor with any single person, and the world would keep spinning. Why would Connor be any different?

He thinks about checking his phone earlier. He had opened it, heart pounding, holding his breath while he towel dried his hair—he took the opportunity while Lucky was drying his hair in the bathroom with an absolutely wild-looking contraption—”It’s called a diffuser, Connor”.

So, he was hiding, essentially, crouched on Lucky’s bedroom floor where Lucky had plugged his phone in before bed, knuckles white around his phone as he turned the screen on.

It was underwhelming, really. The world did not burn down. It wasn’t front-page news on ESPN or Deadspin or Twitter or something. There wasn’t some sort of international beacon that went out screaming: “Connor McDavid is Gay” or “Connor McDavid has Gay Sex; what is next for the Edmonton Oilers Captain”. There were no “you’re fired” texts from Ken or Bettman. There were no “you’re disgusting, and I hate you” texts from all the people in his life who loved him.

There were only the normal texts. Photos from Cam of some Canada Geese. A text from his mum asking how he was doing. The most notable thing on his phone was a recent text from Leo, apologizing for Nashville—an apology Connor didn’t feel like he was owed, but Leo wanted to let him know he was sorry anyway. 

“Hey, just wanted to say sorry for how I was in Nashville. I don’t want you to think I meant it,” he had said. “You’re one of the best people I know. I was worried and hurt. So I’m sorry. I hope you’re having a good time in Australia. You haven’t sent me any pictures, asshole.”

“Isn’t it like 3 am in Germany right now? Shouldn’t you be getting your beauty sleep?” Connor had texted back.

Leon had sent back his typical response—an eye roll emoji—and Connor had smiled and turned off his phone.

So, Connor watches Lucky move at the stove, easy and carefree. And, for the first time in a long time, Connor feels a little bit of that ease in his chest. Like there is just a little bit more room to breathe. Like there is an ever so slightly less weight on his shoulders.

For the first time since he was 10, Connor considered that maybe he could be wrong. That maybe Connor McDavid could get to have something like this. Something easy—private but easy. Connor considers that maybe this is something he might want to share with a select few people when he’s ready. Not the people who would make it into a Connor McDavid-97-Captain issue. But people who deserve to see Connor a little more clearly.

But for now, he’s just content to watch as Lucky tries—and fails—to flip the omelet in the air like a pancake.

“So, how do you feel about scrambled eggs?” Lucky asks, smile broad and eyes shining.

“Good,” Connor laughs. “I feel good about scrambled eggs.”

“Fuck yeah!” Lucky laughs.

“Fuck yeah,” Connor says softly.

Masterlist | (My requests are currently closed.) | AO3

[ibikus]

Okay, my thoughts right now:

I live in a state in Germany with literal Neonazis in its parliament, people who don't just reject democracy but the German state as a whole, because they deny World War II was ever lost. Yes, sounds crazy, but it's real and many of these people had a decent education in school before they fell off. I watch people repeat history every day just by going out and being subjected to the people who vote for a party that admires Hitler, wants women and queer people to die, wants immigrants to be killed or sent back to war and that LOVES to copy what Republicans are doing in the US. I hear their misogyny, their racism, their homophobia, their transphobia, just casually on the street, some from my very own family members. I am sure many other Europeans can relate, it is scary existing in these areas of our countries, it's scarier looking at the areas where it's even worse.

And I think that's why it's bad to say "oh those stupid americans". I think alot of us do know very well how these things work and that it's just not easy like that. It's a machinery, designed to erode democracy, it's a path they've been on for a long time and it is not easily visible for many, many people. They prey on lack of education, withholding transparency, they prey on desperation, on making the poor poorer so they are more eager to believe their lies of easy solutions. And boy do they lie and lie and lie, even when it's obvious that they are lying, even though they do not believe any of what they're saying themselves. Propaganda through ways you can't even see, on messengers, tiktok and other sites that do not give a FUCK if the content they push at you is real, that drag you further and further into these dangerous believes. It's selfishness but it's also the blatant disrespect for democracy, it's the loopholes, the way to corruption, away from constitutionality. And it's happening everywhere. We are not on the precipice anymore, we are already in the trenches, we have been for a while if we're being honest with ourselves.

I don't want to be all negative, because we know through history that humans are resilient, love is the strongest force and there is always a way forward, but now we also know there will be many many lives lost on the way to mending any of what's happening in the world right now. And there is no glory in that, not at all. But we will keep going, even though it will get worse before it ever gets better again, we will keep fighting, we will wake up and do good and love each other. That's the one thing that will never stop. That we love each other, that we love humanity and the world we live in, and if this is anything it should be a wake up call to support the most vulnerable whenever we can, to protect our planet, to protect each other. We have to keep going, we simply have to.

[happyely2]

Pairing: Portuguese D. Ace x Fem!Reader

Rating: For everyone, even if there will be mentions of blood, physical and mental wounds, needles for stitching wounds and some small hints of cuddles (the right amount, because we like it that way). If you are sensitive to descriptions of blood or wounds skip the story. At times comical and at times a little sadder, I hope you enjoy this one as well as Cozy Autumn Prompts.

Summary: Being the girlfriend of Portgas D. Ace, the infamous pirate commander of Whitebeard's second fleet, isn't always easy. You know well that life as a pirate is a constant gamble, but every now and then you just want your man - and all the people you care about - to return to your room without wounds to patch up. It's fine that you're a scrupulous and attentive nurse, but damn these men don't have the slightest bit of restraint when they have to attack a ship or a new island, and Ace is the first to throw himself into the fray, but you love him so much that you are willing to always take care of him.

🪡Taking care of a lover’s injury 🪡

“Oh God, what happened?!” You whispered as you caught a bottle of alcohol that was about to fall to the floor. The ship had been shaken by a violent blow, it was as if someone had rammed into it and if someone had succeeded it must have been a very large ship.

“Put all glass bottles safely away and prepare emergency kits. I'm afraid we'll have twice as much work to do today!” You said to your colleagues as you adjusted your white shirt so that it wouldn't get in your way during the fight.

The New World was increasingly full of hotheads who aimed to become important pirates and to do so they targeted the ships of the big boys. Calm and tranquility were words unknown to Moby Dick.

"Goodmorning sweetheart! How was your morning?” Satch and the other men had set up a trench with the kitchen and dining room tables, you ducked to dodge the bullets and stood next to the commander of the fourth division, while the latter loaded a rifle with gunpowder to pass it to one of your companions.

“It could have been better! Who is attacking us?” You said as you opened your bag to get needle, thread and some alcohol, some of your people had been hit by bullets and needed to be treated immediately, quickly extract the bullets and stitch them up to avoid losing a limb or too much blood.

“A rookie, he has a stupid Mohawk. What poor taste.” Izo was next to you and in a short time he had fired three shots that all hit, but the enemies seemed to multiply. Meanwhile, you had finished stitching the leg of one of your companions who immediately picked up the rifle again and started shooting.

“Be careful, I just got the stitches!” You said while you were taking care of another wounded man, this time he had been hit under the cheekbone and almost lost his eye.

Luckily the barricades protected most of your comrades from even more serious injury, but the rifle fire continued to rage.

“We're running out of bullets here, we need to move on to strong weapons.” Satch was next to you, sooner or later the enemies would have to run out of cartridges you thought as you carefully looked at the enemy fence, those bastards were making excuses with thick metal shields.

“The main bridge? Do you have any news?" You asked quickly gathering your stuff inside your bag and placing it over your shoulder. Attacking the left flank where the kitchens and infirmary were located was a dirty diversion, your enemies were aiming for the main deck where Whitebeard generally remained to dictate orders, the left flank was less controlled than the others.

“None, they cut off communication, but everyone else is here, I don't think there will be any problems.” Izo said as he handed you a spare slugphone: “Try this one, it's another line.” He said as he continues shooting wounding five more enemies.

"Ready? This is the kitchen, main deck, can you hear me?”

“Main deck, we hear you loud and clear Miss.” Vista's voice made you breathe again, even though suspicious noises could be heard in the background.

“The Vista situation?” You asked without wasting any time, your other companions were arriving with more medical supplies, ready to follow you to the main deck.

“A bit bad, we have too many wounded among the new recruits. Nobody seems to be serious, Santa is organizing the boarding of the opposing ship." Vista replied as a sword blow could be heard cutting something in the background.

“Dad needs to rest dammit! Satch we have to pass now, there are injuries that need to be treated.” You said as you ended the conversation. Whitebeard may have been one of the most feared men in the New World, but at that time the treatments he was undergoing were so delicate that they could aggravate his physical situation.

Furthermore, the enemies had chosen a perfect day to attack, Marco had gone to deliver important messages to your allies, without the first commander you were at a disadvantage, his phoenix power was very useful in those situations and if Marco was missing it only meant a what: Ace was about to lead the boarding of the enemy ship.

The cook didn't have to be told twice and his entire division went on the attack while Izo's covered his back. It took some time before you and the other nurses made it to the command bridge safe and sound because neither Satch nor Izo would let anything happen to you, and once you got there you immediately started rescuing your crew.

Maybe Vista didn't want to alarm you, but the situation was quite inconvenient. You just hoped you wouldn't have to amputate any limbs.

“More enemies are coming!” Fossa, the captain of the fifteenth division, had raised the alarm. There was too many wounded who needed to be transported below deck, the infirmary would not have contained them all.

“Damn this was a trap.” You said as you approached the railing to check with your own eyes, the girls behind you were working to treat those who were at greater risk.

Four more enemy ships were arriving at great speed.

Your captain's laughter made you all spin. It was like him to laugh in those situations: “Let them come, they will only find defeat waiting for them.” Luckily Whitebeard wasn't injured, you breathed a sigh of relief and continued to move the injured below deck, so that they were safe and could be better cared for by the ship's doctor, you and your colleagues.

The cannon shots seemed to tickle your ship, but they were becoming closer and more precise.

Whitebeard had given the order to return fire and so all the men got busy.

“We need to get off that damned ship.” Satch said as he leaned out to see the damage, with the figurehead they had entered well into the side, destroying part of your house, you were with the fourth commander to understand the damage and to see if there were men to recover, they certainly were medical supplies have been affected.

“Ace comes here!” You said catching the second commander running across the bridge. Damn he was hurt! That idiot had gotten himself hurt and he had a Logia as a fruit of the sea.

“Love you are here! I didn't see you and I feared the worst. How is it going, do we have so many injured people?” He asked turning towards you and smiling warmly at you, she hugged you instinctively to check that you weren't hurt.

Either he was under the influence of a huge amount of adrenaline or Ace had such a high perception of pain that those injuries didn't bother him. This was a question you would never find the answer to.

“How the hell did they hit you? Ah, you're bleeding, stop here..." You looked at the long wound on his chest and the one on his right arm worriedly, his devil fruit made it difficult to stop the wound because the blood was too liquid due to the heat that his body was giving off.

“Some have Algamalotite weapons. They also resist my attacks which is why it took us longer.” He said Ace showing one of the weapons in question to the rest of the crew. He then explained how traps were scattered around the ship which had injured other people that his men were bringing on board.

Better and better.

“Where did they get them?” Asked Halta as he looked at her carefully, the workmanship of the sword was good, too good to have been made by any one person.

“We'll deal with this later. We need to free the ship and sort out the ones that are coming.” You said taking a needle and thread to saturate Ace's wounds, but your girlfriend stopped you in time and after placing his hair on her head he headed towards the Strider: "I can block them if I move now."

“ACE COME BACK HERE NOW!” You shouted trying to follow him but were quickly stopped by Izo before you jumped off the ship to chase him.

“Don't worry, he is not alone.” He told you looking up at the sky, Marco was back and was following Ace to give him back up.

“I swear that as soon as he comes back I'll sew him up properly!” You said the same as you watched the two commanders strike at the opposing ships. Whitebeard laughed loudly, commenting that you young people were so carefree that he envied you a little.

You sighed and turned towards the main deck, there were less serious injuries waiting to be treated and recovery operations to be carried out, so you rolled up your sleeves and started patching up your companions while who was still all entire effort was made to free the ship.

A couple of explosions followed one another in the following hours, marking the end of the fight. Ace and Marco had laid waste to the enemy ships and were returning, the strider was going slower than its normal speed and Marco was flying too low for his standards.

“Go on and check that everything is in one piece, big sister, we'll take care of it here.” Said one of your colleagues while you finished stitching a wound. You left the final directions and grabbed a new medical kit before heading to the main deck.

As soon as you arrived you immediately noticed the two commanders surrounded by the others who were asking for details of everything and more.

“Before you ask for anything, let me patch them up.” You said as you opened your bag and took out everything you needed, no one dared to argue. Marco had been wounded by the same weapons that had hit Ace, but his devil fruit was already taking effect so you fixed a couple of bandages and disinfected the wounds well, until you noticed a deeper one on his shoulder and that's when you cursed.

Ace was worse than a rag, lying on the ground and with his head spinning, he was kept conscious by Satch and Izo. He had lost too much blood, that imbecile.

You breathed in and out to calm yourself down and started lecturing them both, while everyone else laughed out loud.

“ESPECIALLY YOU ACE! IDIOT!" You said as you took the bottle of alcohol and opened it to clean the wound on your arm, it was deep, but it hadn't severed the nerves or any important blood vessels, Marco meanwhile was rearranging his shirt and was careful not to damage the stitches you had put.

“Stop squirming Ace!” You told him while using alcohol.

“That stuff bothers me.” Your boyfriend said with a grimace, then he told what had happened on one of the ships, that he had found other Algamalotite weapons, which now lay on the bottom of the sea and which all bore the same symbol, a skull with a sword that it pierced him in half.

There had been no need for anesthetic, the adrenaline was doing his job.

A couple of sutures later and you had completed the job, while Ace had finished his report: "I don't like this." You said as you put your tools back, everyone agreeing with you, it wasn't a normal Jolly Roger, it looked more like an anti-piracy symbol.

Ace leaned on your shoulder and held you close to him for reassurance, you all suspected that a fight like that was something premeditated and thought out down to the smallest detail, it was no coincidence that they attacked you at such a time. Marco's absence and the fact that we were without your other ships must have studied you for a very long time.

And if they had done something like this, none of you could rule out the possibility that they had thoroughly studied every single member of the crew.

“Daddy have you taken your medicine?” You asked turning to your captain. Ace was worried about that question too, because he knew how meticulous you were about reminding old Whitebeard about his medications.

“I hadn't gotten them yet. Are you afraid of something?” The man replied, then taking his favorite bottle of sake. Sooner or later you would have had to lock him up.

“It was too strange an attack dad, they hit us knowing our weak points too well.” He said Ace sensing your thoughts, thinking about it now, ramming the Moby Dick with a large ship on which traps and strong men were positioned was a diversion that didn't convince any of you.

Marco meanwhile was taking note of everything that needed to be repaired while with one ear he paid attention to the direction the conversation was taking.

“Attack or not, we should be more careful, anyone who can walk come and repair the ship, or at least let's try to fix it to get to the next island. Little sister tries to fix as many men as possible and give me an inventory of the medicines we lost." The first commander said, starting to give orders, conspiracies and suspicions would wait for the evening, for now you had to fix the damage suffered.

"See you this evening." She said Ace in your ear and leaving you his hat.

“Don't overdo it too much as the stitches might pop out and no devil fruit Ace.” You told him as you watched him run towards the hole to be repaired together with all the other men. You then gave the medicine to Father, because you always kept a reserve supply in case he didn't take it, and you said goodbye to both him and Marco to go below deck.

You had men to stitch up and put back together, and many of them.

“How bad is it?” You asked Satch in the late afternoon when you went to see how the men were doing, who as soon as they had been stitched up and treated had rushed to repair the ship, without even receiving the green light. And Ace was among them, not only had he rushed to free the ship, but due to the injuries he had suffered and the loss of blood he had also fallen into the sea and Satch and Izo had jumped in to save him.

Now your boyfriend was sleeping blissfully on top of your legs, covered in bandages from head to toe.

“It could have been worse, luckily the ship is repaired and thanks to you girls the men are back in shape immediately, or at least all of them and there is no one missing.” He said the cook as he took off his yellow handkerchief to wipe away the sweat. They had taken all the surviving crates of food and placed them safely on the other side of the ship.

“I hate how Ace put himself in situations like these.” You said while stroking his black hair rocking him to sleep, you knew him well, he had squeezed out every last crumb of his fire, he had saved many of your companions but this would have put him out of action for quite a while in the days to follow.

Satch laughed heartily and then helped you carry Ace into his cabin, you checked on him one last time and went out leaving him a note on the bedside table, in which you warned him that you would be back later.

You continued your tour with your colleagues, you had distributed medicines and painkillers to the men and then you went downstairs to take inventory of the medicines. By writing everything down meticulously, you realized that the situation wasn't the best.

“We've lost more than half of them Marco, and I can't ration the supplies we have because they don't even cover a third of the crew.” You said as you handed him the report you had made.

The first commander read the numbers you had collected, despite everything he remained apparently calm.

“We have to grit our teeth for a while, we have two days of sailing to the next island, with the ship in these conditions. We will have to work miracles." Phoenix said as he put down the book and checked the route she had chosen. Under normal conditions the Moby Dick would have arrived in less than half a day, but the ship risked taking on water and one of her engines was showing signs of failure.

Resisting for two days in those conditions, with the adverse weather of the New World would not have been so easy.

“Don't worry about my shoulder it's already recovering, go see Ace.” He told you immediately afterwards with a hint of a smile to reassure you, Marco had seen Ace fight and had confided in you that his health conditions worried him a bit.

“Okay, see you later Marco.” You replied, but not before leaving him a couple of painkillers. You quickly left the door and went towards Ace's room, the dining room was destroyed, so the fourth division would have brought food to everyone else and many accommodations were in bad shape, the men had organized themselves as best they could with mattresses, bunks and hammocks in the corridor.

You went to the infirmary to see if there was any news but your "little sisters" reassured you that everything was fine, you still said to call you in any case. They would have slept in the infirmary, because your rooms had also been hit.

When you entered Ace's room you didn't expect to see him already standing, you sighed and closed the door behind you joining him.

“Hey Love!” He greeted you with his usual smile, as if nothing had happened, you huffed but also smiled, luckily Ace seemed to be indestructible.

“You should stay in bed and rest.” You told him as you checked his bandages, they needed to be changed and surely a few stitches had popped off.

So you didn't waste any time and made him lie down on the bed, not without some protests.

“Wounds like this take longer to heal Ace.” You told him as you sutured him again, you had given him a shot of anesthetic, at least to not make him feel pain but his devil fruit quickly burned what was injected into his body, it was no small problem.

Ace was trying not to say a word or let out a single cry of pain, he was trying to hold on so as not to worry you further.

“I know it hurts, honey, I promise it's just for a few more seconds.” You said, better fixing the last stitch that had opened and then bandaging everything with a thicker and tighter bandage, at least in this way the stitches would have to hold up for the night.

Ace threw himself on you, complaining a little about the rest of his body hurting, so you asked to show you where he hurt. You discovered that he had at least a dozen bruises scattered here and there.

So you rolled up your sleeves and took some lotion from your bag to sober them up it can be absorbed more quickly.

“What is it Love?” Ace asked you as he ran his hand through your hair to caress you, he could see that you were tense.

“I hate seeing you in pain.” You responded, leaning against one of the pillows on Ace's bed. You had rubbed lotion on him and now you were lying next to each other. You traced the outline of his abs with your fingertips and with a light touch so as not to hurt him.

“One sleep and I'll be as good as new.” He said Ace smiling at you and kissing the tip of your nose, then your cheeks and finally his lips. He was an incurable romantic.

“If everyone were like you. We have two days of travel ahead of us, said Marco, supplies of food and medicines must be heavily rationed, but luckily no one has lost their lives." You said caressing his face and lingering more on his cheeks to play with their softness.

“It'll be fine, you'll see, we've faced worse and Marco will have chosen a fairly calm route.” Your boyfriend had taken your hands to bring them close to his lips to kiss them. He then slowly went up until he reached your neckline where he rested without asking your permission: "You're an excellent pillow and I'll recover faster this way." Ace had started purring like a cat rubbing against you and you had laughed, not chasing him away but holding him tighter to you.

“Are you still thinking about the symbol you saw?” You asked after a while, noticing the serious look that Ace had made while looking at the sea from the porthole of your cabin.

“Yes, I don't know why but I have a strange feeling.” And that strange feeling more simply translated into trouble ahead.

“They could hang up on us but they know that at this point Dad might intervene with his devil fruit.” You said playing with the locks of his hair, they had grown a little more, he would have to cut them soon.

“You know his power is so strong that it would wipe out the continent, and then I don't think it would be good for his health.” Ace had started drawing invisible circles on your back, slowly and in an almost hypnotic manner.

“Someone here doesn't want to sleep…” You whispered in his ear making your lover smirk.

“Come on Love, so I can heal faster.” Ace breathed on your neck allowing a rush of shivers to travel down your spine.

“You are recovering.” You insisted, standing up and straddling him.

“In fact, I won't make any movements, you will do everything, are you my personal nurse or not, Love?” Ace's warm hands ran along your sides rubbing against the bones of your pelvis, he knew that was a delicate spot of yours and that you loved when he squeezed it like that.

You held back a moan, just to not give him satisfaction, but the blush on your face made him smirk again.

“So I have full control? Can I start this visit?” You asked as you unhooked the clasp of your bra and Ace helped you take it off throwing it away on the floor of his room.

You wore a white top that tied in a bow at the back of your neck, it was Ace's favorite.

“Of course Love.” Ace had settled in better, he loved it when you took control in bed, it was a shame you weren't wearing a uniform.

You didn't have to be told twice and you gave him a kiss on the lips, then moving down to his chin, to his neck where you bit a little harder, drawing a small sigh of satisfaction from him, and then continuing your descent of kisses on his his abdomen.

Here you were a little more careful not to bite too hard and you helped yourself with your hands to tease him a little more. You traced the grooves of his muscles with your fingertips and went down to the V carved on his groin and dared to bite a little harder.

You smiled as you saw Ace's gaze starting to become full of lust.

You wasted no time fiddling with his belt, you knew it too well by now and knew how to remove it quickly.

“So far the control seems to be going well.” You said while playing with the elastic of his boxers.

"You say? I keep feeling something isn't right." He had said, caressing your cheek with his warm palm which you rubbed against.

You were about to continue, wanting to give him more pleasure, until the alarm went off all over the deck of the ship and made you freeze on the spot.

“Fuck.” He cursed Ace as you quickly got dressed to go check. You rushed out of his cabin to find yourself in a critical situation.

They were attacking you.

“I thought we were past the bad part.” She said Ace as you two reached the main deck. The sound of bombs hitting near the ship.

“These people here don't intend to give in, they attacked us waiting for us halfway.” Satch had arrived before you and handed you the binoculars to get a better look.

“That's ten ships! But what do they think they are doing!” You said as Ace grabbed your waist and quickly lowered you to avoid a cannon shot, he had grazed your head.

“They have the same symbol as the others, they must be allies.” Izo said taking cover as well.

“There's only one thing left to do, let's attack them.” Ace was about to come out, the Moby Dick was surrounded, Marco stopped him in time.

“It's not the right time yet.” The first commander had said, the ships were not within range, the snail near us had started to ring incessantly.

“This is the infirmary, where is the big sister?”

“I'm here, what's happening?”

“They hit us and we are seriously injured, come help us quickly.”

Damn, that's all you needed, more serious injuries to operate on in a situation like this.

"I am coming." You said, closing the conversation and turning to Ace: “Don't bullshit honey.” You told him and he smiled back at you.

“Go save our comrades.”

You ran downstairs to find yourself in total chaos, you quickly rinsed your hands and immediately put on gloves, there wasn't a second of time to waste.

“The situation upstairs?” One of your companions asked, handing you the tools to remove the pieces of wood that had stuck inside the body of one of your shipmates.

“Quieter than ours. The commanders were pissed off." You responded by starting to extract the largest pieces and immediately moving on to disinfecting and suturing.

The roars of some cannon shots or the sound of swords being drawn did not distract any of you while you operated.

You had lives to save and no one would die on your ship.

Twelve hours later the infirmary was a mess of needles, bottles of painkillers, scalpels, various instruments and blood. But fortunately all the most critical patients were stable, even those who had injured themselves on the command bridge and had been rushed to the infirmary.

The battle above had ended with the explosion of the enemy ships and Whitebeard had also played his part, he had regulated his power but this had cost him his health.

“Don't you dare lie. I can see it hurts.” You said as you set up his new IVs and increased the dose of antibiotic and painkiller to make him feel better.

“Enough is enough.” He replied, placing a hand on your shoulder: “You did a great job, you and the girls.” He added, looking at each member of his crew covered in bandages and painkillers.

You smiled, forcing yourself a little, the adrenaline in your body was starting to decrease: “Thanks dad.” Ace was next to you, his bandages stained with blood, but he was well enough to stand and support you. The fight had burdened him and despite this he also had responsibilities as a commander, he had to grit his teeth and set a good example for all your men.

Marco examined the nautical charts, the ship had suffered further damage and navigation would become more difficult, the island you wanted to reach was too far away.

“Hey…but that's an island!” You couldn't believe your colleagues' words, the girls were leaning over the bridge to get a better look.

In the end they were right, an island had appeared on your horizon.

“Marco please there is an island we can go to.” You had talked to the other girls, and all of you had introduced yourself to the first commander to convince him to go down to the island that you had spotted that morning at the first light of dawn when the smoke from the other ships had cleared.

Ace had tried to dissuade you, but he had no say in the matter.

“It is not part of our territories.” The first commander said while drinking his cup of bitter coffee.

“And whose would it be?” You asked for all your colleagues as Ace tried to calm you down. The island was only two hours away from you, you could have stopped to stock up on food, repair the ship and treat the wounded better.

“Del Rosso.” Marco replied, cursing himself for having taught us girls to navigate and knowing how to read a map and he cursed himself even more for having answered, the girls and you, hearing that name, had headed to Whitebeard to tell him to dock on the island immediately.

“They don't have a shred of restraint.” Satch had said, understanding well that landing on an island belonging to another emperor was not something prudent.

“It's Shanks the Red, of all people it's the best guess that could have happened to us.” Ace said, your boyfriend hadn't moved an inch after you glared at him, as if to say either you're on my side or I'll kill you. You could have a civil discussion with him, but it was still a risk.

“The problem is that knowing them they would face it without even thinking about it. Especially your girlfriend Ace.” He had said Izo, adjusting his Kimono to hide a bandage.

“Don't tell me anything, I have no say in the matter.” She said Ace, resigning herself to the fact that when you set your mind to something you managed to get it done. The boys started laughing heartily, your fervent spirit had brought back some joy to the crew.

In the end however, partly due to everyone's tiredness and partly because it was urgent to repair the ship, you had prevailed and for this reason you headed towards the island.

You could have expected anything when you got off, but not to find the Red's crew on dry land.

“Hey Whitebeard!” He had greeted the emperor with his usual smile that you couldn't identify. It was an idiotic smile. That's what the only explanation was.

"Red."

“Please, no fights.” You said, placing yourself between the two and glaring at both of them. You were sick of a lot of clashes and battles. The deathmatch for the sake of the good old days could wait.

No displays of Haki, no weapons being drawn. You breathed a sigh of relief and left the two emperors chatting while Marcus began supervising the construction of a camp. The redhead's crew also helped you, Ace was right to say that of all the emperors Shanks was the best case that could have happened to you.

Six hours later you were finally leaving the infirmary you had set up to get some fresh air. You had rechecked all your patients, fixed and splinted broken legs, destroyed wrists and sprained arms, all injuries that the men had hidden from you and for which they had received a severe lecture.

“The injured, even the serious ones, fortunately, they are all stable. Two days and they'll be as good as new.” You reported to your captain, explaining who the most critical ones were and what medicines needed to be taken as soon as possible.

“The ship has suffered quite a bit of damage, we should stop here for at least a week.” Marco said, listing the damage suffered, and it was quite a bit, but luckily it could be repaired.

The meeting was going to last late and Ace noticed the bags under your eyes and the fact that you couldn't pay attention. The lack of sleep was making itself felt.

“You should rest.” She had told you, making you sit on him. Nobody had said anything, in fact the discussions had continued.

“I will rest when I need it.” You said, trying to continue listening, even though the warmth of her body was an invitation to sleep, you had to resist. Three hours later, in the late afternoon you had emerged from the meeting room tent. From what had emerged, Red and his men had also been attacked in a similar manner a few days earlier and from the rumors circulating, an alliance seemed to have formed to eliminate the old emperors.

Better and better. If this was true you would have expected a clash in the days when you set sail again.

It was better to go and stock up on medicines.

“Let's go get the medicines from the village and come back.” You had told Ace leaving a kiss on his cheek. You had quickly changed by borrowing one of his shirts.

“Are you sure I don't have to come with you?” Ace didn't want to let you wander around alone, ok you were with your colleagues but he still preferred you to avoid it, despite everything there were bounties hanging on your heads that would have attracted many bounty hunters, but the sooner you went to get the medicine the sooner you could go back to him you answered him.

“Sure, just think about regaining your strength.” Ace had collapsed a few seconds after you had left the meeting room, sleep, narcolepsy and the wounds that had not healed had drained him of his last strength and carrying him to his tent had been a titanic undertaking.

“We'll be back in three hours.” You reassured him and left the tent, going to the girls and walking towards the nearest town.

Three hours later you returned as you promised and the whole crew breathed a sigh of relief that had not gone unnoticed by any of us.

“What do you want me to tell you, our nurses are known to be quite troublesome.” You could finally treat Ace with the right dose of painkillers and antibiotics, one that she would only wear off the next evening.

“We troublemakers?” You laughed as you took some cotton and soaked it in alcohol, you had to clean the wound on his chest and Ace was already glaring at you.

“Don't be such a baby, it's just rubbing alcohol.” You said placing it on his chest and pressing softly. Luckily the stitches hadn't broken in the previous clash.

“I never liked that thing.” Ace said glaring at the new cotton ball that was getting closer to his wound.

He was a child.

You gave him a kiss on the cheek to distract him and it happened.

“Big sister!” One of your girls had entered the tent: “Did I interrupt something?” She asked then noticing how you looked. You sitting on Ace's lap in a position that couldn't be misunderstood.

“No don't worry dear, tell me everything.” You responded, taking the gauze and starting to bandage it. Ace's torso, your boyfriend wanted to say otherwise but he held back.

“We found some natural hot springs, you have to come and bathe with us now! Commander Ace I'm commandeering our head nurse for the next two hours.” Your subordinate had said, grabbing you by the shoulders and dragging you out of the tent.

"HEY!" Ace was following you ready to catch you but the other girls prevented him: "This evening will be all for you, but for now we want to be with the big sister."

Luckily Izo and Satch had grabbed Ace by the shoulders and carried him to the other side to distract him. Telling him that it was right to leave some space for us girls.

“You are impossible, I don't even have a costume!” You said as the two of you arrived at the shores of the Hot Springs.

“Who said you need a swimsuit, we are all women!”

After all, they were right, but you regretted not spending time with Ace, you had been interrupted a few too many times for your liking in those hectic days, the only thing you wanted was to spend some intimate time with the your boyfriend.

But the thermal water was a panacea for your nerves that you would regret in the next few days. Only you girls, no man nearby and a lot of calm interrupted here and there by some otters that came close to smell you, were the inhabitants of that place and we had taken a liking to you.

There was so much calm that at a certain point you couldn't stand it anymore. You kind of missed the chaotic life that was with your sailing companions, but you missed Ace so much, you wanted to go and hug him, lock yourself in his tent and stay with him all night.

The spa had only partially dissipated the stress you had accumulated during those days, you knew well how to dispose of the remaining part with your fiery boyfriend.

“I'd say we go back to camp.” You said as you walked out and put on your underwear and white top. The cold air of the evening went perfectly with the feeling of warmth that the spa had left in you and this had made you even more nostalgic for Ace, usually he was the one who created that sensation that you liked so much.

"Already? But can't we stay a little longer?”

“It's been more than two hours, they'll be worried about us.” You replied as you looked around for your shorts and trying not to fall on the otter pups that must have been spinning around frantically. What naughty little brats.

“But boss, we're not enjoying this calm!”

“That's right and men can be alone, what could happen?”

You looked at each of your friends and just your look was enough to convince them that it was best to go back. You could already imagine what could happen to that rowdy gang of Pirates with the absence of you girls.

“We will come here more times in the next few days.” You finally said making the others laugh, they all agreed to go back to having some relaxation: "They took my shorts!" You added as you weaved through the vegetation to look for them.

The girls also noticed that a couple of their clothes were missing, but the otters that had kept you company were starting to get restless and seemed to want to tell you to forget about it and go back.

"That have?" You asked yourselves, not understanding the sudden agitation.

A sudden movement of air above your heads made you suddenly spin.

“Damn I didn't get them!” About ten men had appeared on the other side of the baths. A shiver ran down your spine as you slowly approached the others, that symbol they carried with them, a skull with a knife dividing it in two, were the men who had attacked you in the previous days.

“It's okay, just come here.” She tried to say one of them with a dodgy face, yellow teeth and some missing, his face marred by scars.

You remained f trying not to make any rash moves, you couldn't escape because they were surrounding you and you were disarming.

"Damnation." You said as the girls pressed closer to you. How long were they watching you? Had they come to you before? Did they know about the camp? Had they already attacked him? How was Ace?

It seemed to be a nightmare that didn't want to end, those men possessed Algamalotite weapons, Ace possessed a devil fruit and risked being seriously injured, he even risked his life.

You couldn't allow something like that.

Another blow forced you to duck to avoid a scythe hitting you, only then did you notice a scalpel on the ground, how it ended up there didn't interest you that much, it was always something to defend yourself with.

You took it without hesitation, hiding it inside your hand.

It was the seven of you against more than a dozen armed men.

You had to play smart.

And while the men surrounded you starting to list the worst things to do to you you tried to find a way to escape, the main path was out of the question, if they were intelligent they had put some men to guard it.

The forest seemed like the only way out, but it was characterized by such dense vegetation that it would only hinder you.

But it was the only option available.

“At my signal, run as fast as you can, no one looks back, let's be clear.” You said as one of the enemies approached you. If they had captured you you would have become a dangerous medium of exchange. You knew Santa so well that he would have done anything to bring you home safely, not to mention Ace, oh god if only he had found out about the danger you were in.

You couldn't let your boyfriend risk his life with the injuries he had. No, you would never forgive yourself.

“Big sister…” The man was a few steps away from you and the girls.

You inhaled deeply and only when he was one step away from you did you use the scalpel to hit him in the jugular. Blood splattered everywhere but you didn't care.

Some of the girls screamed at what had happened. The men in front of you were stunned. It was just what you needed.

“Leave now!” You shouted grabbing one of your little sisters and starting to run, you had the element of shock on your side and you had to make the most of it. The camp wasn't too far away, once you reached it you could have notified everyone.

Two gunshots made your blood run cold. Warning shots, they wanted to capture you without doing too much damage.

They wanted to avoid the wrath of your captain and his commanders.

“No one was hit. Let's run boss."

“In the vegetation! Hurry and don't scream, not even if a shot passes by you!” You immersed yourself in the forest among brambles and branches that hurt you every time you passed, your wounds burned and your muscles ached, but you had to keep running, soon the gunshots would no longer be a warning.

You were just thankful that you and your classmates had been through so much that you weren't scared so easily. The oxen and the silence were your best allies at that moment, but the voices of your opponents were too close, they seemed to have grown louder to boot.

And the camp fire still seemed to be so far away.

“Hold on, we're almost there!” You said as you saw Whitebeard's flag along with Red's flag waving in the night. Driven by a new spirit you overcame the last obstacles by starting to shout to attract attention, to hell with not getting caught,

“ACEEEE” You screamed seeing your boyfriend's hair near the fire.

The dark-haired man turned around looking for you until he saw you and he became alarmed along with the others. Ace started running in your direction without wasting time, without waiting for the others.

“Take them!” The men chasing you had increased and the shots were not sent as a warning but were trying to hit you.

“Run, don't turn around.” You said as you jumped over a log and helped one of your classmates up after she fell to the ground.

“Come on, come on!” you said starting to run again hearing Ace call your name.

Ace was running towards you, everyone was coming.

Then a gunshot and your world became darker. You fell to your knees as you tried to pack the wound on your pelvis. The blow was so strong that it knocked the bullet out and your body stopped reacting the moment your knees hit the ground.

“Run you fools!” You said trying to send the girls away but no one moved petrified of what had happened.

You felt the blood flow out of the wound, hot and thick and spilling onto the ground.

Ace stood in front of you motionless as if he was trying to act but he couldn't, but in his eyes you could see a fire you had never seen before.

He caught you before you fell to the ground and held you close to her: "Don't worry love, I'm here." He said standing up and facing the enemy.

There were few who had seen Ace's true anger when someone dear to him was attacked or hurt, and there were still few who had survived to tell the tale.

You felt Ace hand you over to someone else, you couldn't keep your eyes open from all the blood you were losing, but you felt Ace place his hair on you and tell you to hold on.

Then he went all dark and muffled and a white light covered your vision.

Waking up wasn't the best, you heard the sound of the machines you had in the infirmary intermittently and you couldn't focus on what was around you.

Breathing hurt, and the oxygen mask you wore scratched your cheeks. Only then did you notice a mass of black hair leaning on the same mattress as you and an orange hair, which you knew well, resting on top of you.

Ace was sleeping, he knew how long you had been unconscious or if he had been struck by an attack of narcolepsy.

You stroked his hair, lulling him to sleep and observing his expressions, until he opened his eyes.

“Hi Ace.” You greeted with a smile.

“Well woken up Love” He replied, leaving a kiss on your forehead and caressing your face and staring at you for endless minutes.

"What happened?" You asked trying to get up but being stopped by Ace.

“You pay attention to the points.” The brunette said as she helped you up without you trying too hard.

“She woke up! You woke up sweetie!” Satch's voice said as she walked in with a tray full of lots of breakfast things. Immediately afterwards she entered half the world into the infirmary.

“Big sister you recovered!” The girls did nothing but cry loudly, while the men tried to comfort them and make them calm down, they were full of bandages and plasters, only superficial wounds fortunately. Each one told how difficult it had been to operate because of the blood you had lost and that they hadn't stopped until dawn. Red Shanks' doctor had also come to help you.

The girls continued to cry and you were moved by that reaction and you also tried to calm them down, but they started crying more.

“You should have seen Ace after they took you and then the girls didn't let us get closer even with threats!” She had said Izo sitting on a stool near the bed and Ace had turned red with embarrassment.

“Not only did he knock out all the enemies who were chasing you, but this wretch here went straight to their camp, burning everything and everyone, without waiting for us.” Marco continued, hitting your boyfriend on the head with a newspaper.

“Ace!” You said, turning to him, “Stupid, you don't have to face so many enemies alone.” You grabbed him by the cheeks.

“Come on Love, they hurt you, I had to punish them properly.” The dark-haired man said, freeing his cheeks and squeezing your hands.

"Unconscious." You said with tears in your eyes.

God you nearly lost him, because if he had been injured you wouldn't have been able to treat him in those conditions.

“Commander Ace don't make big sister cry!”

A small argument had developed between Ace and the girls, Izo had promptly pulled you out to prevent your health from worsening while the others tried to calm the two parties down.

It was your captain's voice that called your attention: "Let her rest, Ace, keep an eye on her." So everyone had slowly left the infirmary and the two of you alone, the girls had first relieved you of all the devices and drips to which you were attached and now you felt freer.

They made sure Ace didn't do any harm and were very direct in saying in no uncertain terms that I shouldn't force myself in any way and then they left.

“Come close to me Ace.” Ace didn't have to be told twice and got into the infirmary bed with you, you were a little tight but feeling him so close made you feel good.

“Aren't the girls going to hang me somewhere?” He had asked as he kissed your cheeks.

“Don't worry, I'll stop him.” You said touching his bandage and looking when she was covered in blood.

“Ace…” You whispered, trying to get a better look.

“It's not mine…it's yours…” Ace said rubbing your back with his warm hands to calm you down. You could only imagine the pain Ace had felt seeing you lose all that blood.

“I didn't know how to fix this.” He whispered looking at your bandage and slowly caressing the area: "I was very scared, they held it down like you told me to do, but you kept bleeding and I..." Ace's eyes were shiny, you knew him well that yes he would have stopped himself from crying, but he needed it right now.

You held him tightly to you, hiding his face in your breast and whispering in his ear: "Love, I'm here, safe and sound, Grace and you, if you want to cry, do it, I'm sorry for having made you worry so much." Ed Ace had held you close to him and salty tears had started streaming down his face.

He had told you what he had felt in that moment, so much fear. His flames had become uncontrollable due to those emotions and he was grateful to be alone at that moment.

“Actually there was Marco who turned me off just in time.” He added as you wiped the tears from his cheeks. You couldn't see him in that condition, Ace never cried - the only time he did was when he told you who he really was and about his past.

"Unconscious." You whispered, kissing him lightly: "You can't do these things if I'm not there to take care of you." You added, kissing him again.

“I don't like that the roles have been reversed.” Ace had said as he kissed you back.

“For once we can take a few days to ourselves.” You told him, kissing him again and biting his lower lip.

A pang had suddenly taken you from his side all the way down to his stomach. Ace had noticed this and immediately put himself in a different position, raising your torso slightly even though you said you were fine.

“You're clearly in pain! Please, just help me.” He said checking your bandage, luckily everything seemed to be fine.

“Ace don't worry.” You tried to reassure him, in a couple of days and some painkillers they would have you back on your feet.

“Don't you want to go back to work right away?!” Ace had placed you on top of him, you were now leaning against his chest and the tray full of Satch's food rested on your legs.

“How long has it been since you ate?” He asked then taking a grape and bringing it to your lips.

“How long has it been since you ate?” You responded with the same question by cutting a slice of meat and giving it to your boyfriend.

“For once I can take care of you.” He said to, Ace exasperated and leaving kisses on your neck. You laughed and then you continued breakfast, during which Ace told you what had happened at the camp, Redhair had already left the island and there had been no farewell fights or anything like that.

You chatted and exchanged small outpourings of love until the doctor came in and decreed that you could leave the infirmary but that you absolutely had to rest.

“Losing a girl like you! I really don't think about it, Ace don't make her get too tired please." The doctor said, giving another direct and blunt lecture.

“But why is everyone like this?!” Ace was carrying you in his arms, he had been adamant, he wouldn't make you so tired. You laughed and hugged him. Only you knew the delicacy that Ace put into every gesture that concerned you, even when you made love, no one would have ever said it but Ace - in addition to being fiery and passionate - was extremely sweet and kind. He cared a lot about making sure he didn't hurt you and making sure he respected your every need.

Yet you were happy to only know this sweet and delicate aspect of him.

“Ace let me change your bandages.” You said, getting up from the bed and grabbing the medical kit you had brought with you.

“I should be the one to change them for you. My wounds have already healed.” Your boyfriend had said stopping you from grabbing something and double checking your bandages, they were still clean and perfect.

A suspicious noise had made you freeze on the spot, voices calling for help and the nurses had reached your ears.

“Oh God, not again…” You said ready to leave to go see the situation.

"Do not even think about it." Ace said taking you back to bed and snickering.

“Ace but what if someone is hurt?” You protested once on the mattress, you tried to get up, but there was no way Ace would die.

“The girls are here, you absolutely need to rest.” Your boyfriend said, kissing you between your collarbones and slowly unbuttoning the shirt you were wearing at the time.

No other alarming voices had arrived from outside so the situation was under control.

“Will you take care of me?” You asked, settling yourself better on the pillows and waiting for your boyfriend to come closer.

“I will be your personal doctor.”

He kissed you, a kiss full of passion and tension accumulated in the previous days, a kiss that only tasted of so much love that you absolutely wanted to give him to heal those wounds that had remained in the soul and not in the flesh of both of you.

You kissed him back as his hands came down to cup your hips.

At that moment only the two of you existed and nothing else.

[heymacy]

it's weekly tag game wednesday thursday! i was tagged (and/or mentioned) by so many sweethearts, namely @jrooc, @creepkinginc, @doshiart, @mybrainismelted, @deedala,

@gardenerian, @blue-disco-lights, @spookygingerr, @thepupperino, @stocious,

@vintagelacerosette, & @palepinkgoat 💛 I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH (and if i missed anyone bc of the glitch i am so, so sorry!!!)

how did you get into the fandom? a friend of mine on twitter DM’d me a gallavich compilation video in mid-2020 and said “i think you might really like this show” — i’d tried watching it before in 2018 but only made it to 1x06 which is a CRIME. can you imagine if i’d kept going? insanity. anyway. the worms got me, i made a new tumblr in october 2020, and the rest is history ✨

how long have you been here? 3.75 years and counting

what’s the first fandom channel you found? (Youtube, Reddit, Tumblr, Insta, Twitter, FB, other?) YouTube, then tumblr

what’s your favourite now? tumblr now and forever

which mutual have you known the longest in the fandom? @7x10mickey — hi lizzie! ily lizzie!

which tumblerino’s did you have your first fandom crush(es) on and wanted to get to know? funny you should ask! my very first fandom crush was the beautiful, talented, spectacular @gardenerian. i was mesmerized by their gifs and their playlists and wanted to be their friend so i messaged them requesting a gif set based on a song from the show. cut to 3.5 years later and i’m packing a suitcase to visit them for the second time in a month. life is funny like that!

first Gallavich fan fic you read (or that blew you away that you remember) The Increasingly Poor Decisions of Ian Gallagher by @goodkwuestion. read it in like 3 days flat. one of the best pieces of literature, fanfiction or other, that i’ve ever read

first fan art that blew your mind? i don’t remember exactly which one but it was definitely one by @steorie — one of the first artists i followed in the fandom!

fanfic trope that you were sure wasn’t for you but now you low key (or high key) love? echoing @deedala (who also knows how deep it goes) and saying SPORTS AU!!!!!! boy oh boy. i am IN THE TRENCHES

what surprised you most about this fandom? how kind and considerate everyone is. i’ve never been a part of a community that is so welcoming and warm and it makes me all fuzzy (positive)

moment in the show (or YT vids if you’re one of those) that you fell in hyperfixation with Gallavich? the club kiss (though i was fixated after 1x07 i will not lie to y’all)

ian or mickey? i’m saying both and you can’t stop me!!!!

which Gallagher or Milkovich are you? fiona. hot mess, waffle knit henley tees, dreams of owning a laundromat, comes from a chaotic family, eldest daughter syndrome, always ugly crying for one reason or another

tags below the cut!

@too-schoolforcool, @mmmichyyy, @transmickey, @sam-loves-seb, @darlingian,

@deathclassic, @energievie, @michellemisfit, @sleepyfacetoughguy, @sleepyheadgallavich,

@crossmydna, @tanktopgallavich, @sickness-health-all-that-shit, @the-rat-wins, @transmurderbug,

@lee-ow, @callivich, @kiinard, @sluttymickey, @thisdivorce,

@xninetiestrendx, @y0itsbri, @captainjowl, @arrowflier, @astaraels,

@ardent-fox, @wehangout, @gallapiech, @roryonic, @mickittotheman,

@jademickian, @solitarycreaturesthey, @spacerockwriting, & @rayrayor

[am3mb3r123]

hi yes i’m watching the Bad Batch arc of season 7 for the millionth time so here are this rewatch’s thoughts for all four episodes:

Marshall Commander Cody, highest ranked clone in the GAR: “let’s just wait until we’re in enemy airspace to debrief this highly important mission”

watching TBB inflict damage is always so much cooler than reading it, thanks aphantasia

wat tambor can suck a dick

Rex having both his greatest hope and worst fear confirmed is fucking *chefs kiss*

everytime they zoom in on Hunter it’s like a bad video game cut scene and i love it

poor Rex, Anakin puts him through so much

i will never get over Crosshair using Tech’s shoulder as a stabilization

god i wish TBB tv show showed more of Hunter giving incredibly specific orders in increasingly vague numbers

did i mention wat tambor can suck a dick?

yah know what? i’ll say it. Cross deserved that punch from Rex

TBB theme behind Anakin trying to brace Rex for Echo not being there?? kill me now

“Yeah, it’s a lift”

“His mind is ours” STFU TAMBOR

THE IMPLICATIONS THAT ECHO HAS BEEN RELIVING THE CITADEL FOR what TWO YEARS HELP

Anakin sees Echo back from the dead and doesn’t bat a fucking eye he’s seen so much since the start of this war

Wrecker blowing up Echo’s chamber so they can’t use it again warms my heart look at how much Wrecker cares!! (excuse me while i refrain from my full emotionally intelligent Wrecker rant)

I FORGOT ECHO JUMPED ON THE KEERADECK BY HIMSELF MINUTES AFTER WAKING UP FROM A MEDICAL COMA

so much time is devoted to the battle between the techo union and the TBB/Rex and Anakin/the Poltechs and i genuinely just want so much more of it

saying “hopefully it’s gonna be just like old times” to a man who’s been kept as a science experiment for two(?) years is insane

the narrator will not let us forget that Echo’s an ARC Trooper and i’m so grateful for it

whoever decided to give Echo a scomp arm i am kissing you on the mouth

“to be blunt” Tech you’ve never not been blunt in your entire life

has no one informed Admiral Trench that his “algorithm” has been compromised!?

Windu trying the “can we not?” method with the battle droids is so funny to me

“if it makes you feel better, it isn’t my plan” Anakin you little shit

unrelated but since when is the entire back of Jesse’s helmet blue??

Anakin wasn’t super justified in cutting off half of Admiral Trench’s limbs and then killing him, but who boy i love watching him go from Jedi to Jedi-adjacent to Sith

god i love Wrecker, if you’ve made it this far and have Wrecker-centric fics to recommend let me know

and, finally, love seeing TBB give a clean salute to Rex and knowing that they’re only doing it bc of Echo lmao