#the way some people are just friends as long as you are of use to them but when something awful happened to you they couldnt even check in

[teaboot]

I've never had a cat before and I'm hoping to get one soon. Do you have any advice?

Treat a new cat as you would a new roommate. Give them space and time to settle, establish a pattern and a rhythm, and in time they may choose to become friends and spend time with you. Dont force a friendship.

Use simple words and repetition to establish communication. Words like breakfast, treat, snack, lunch, supper, dinner, food, and eat all basically mean, "I am feeding you; expect to be fed", but it's a lot for a little guy to remember. I just say "Dinner" when I mean "cat food is coming", and so my boy knows exactly what I mean when I say it. As a plus, using only one word for snack time means he has no idea what the other words mean, so I can talk about food in front of him without ruling him up.

Pay attention to body language. Cats all have different personalities, and you'll learn their likes, dislikes, and messages over time this way. Son boy here loves anything with plumbing but dislikes getting wet- his favourite blanket to chew and snuggle goes on his favourite chair, and he gives me a specific gesture when he wants me to kneel down so he can jump onto my shoulder.

Read into problematic behaviour. Cats pee in weird places when they're hurting, in distress, or have insufficient of unclean litter box space. Biting, attacking feet , and knocking things off tables often means they're understimulated and need you to play with them, or at least need some kind of enrichment or puzzle to tackle. Tail flicking can be frustration or irritation. Purring is usually good, but may also be self-soothing behaviour to alleviate pain, encourage healing, and relieve anxiety, like over-grooming.

Like children, "bad" behaviour isn't malicious- it usually means there's something you aren't seeing.

Learn how your cat expresses love. Loads of people think cats are uncaring, cruel, and indifferent, but the truth is, they're just not dogs. Spending time near you, showing an interest in tools you're using or projects you're working on, sitting the way you sit, laying on their back, rubbing on your legs, wiping their face on your shoes when you get home- these are signs that your cat is enamored with you. You're their family, they feel safe and protected around you, they're curious about things you enjoy and want everyone to know you're family.

Set reasonable expectations. Again, cats are not dogs.We bred dogs to desire our approval- cats walked into our lives themselves. They have no human-programmed need to fulfill a duty or perform a task to your standards.

Training cats to do tricks isn't as hard as people say, but the willingness or interest in doing the trick is more heavily reliant on personality and mood. Some cats will refuse all but the most basic requests- I'm lucky in that Ollie understands and is willing to do several, provided I don't abuse his trust and he's not crowded or overwhelmed or just bored of doing it over and over in a short period.

Ollie, for example, knows Up to stand on his back legs and hold my hand, Down to get to a surface I indicate, Out to emerge from a closed space, Come to find me where I am, Help? when I'm offering to let him use me as an elevator, Dinner when I understand he's hungry and am getting food, and when I put on his collar he knows to climb into his carrier 'cause we're going somewhere. And he'll do any of these about 90% of the time, either ignoring me or phoning it in when there's something interesting somewhere else, or if he's feeling anxious.

Lead by example. If you dread taking them to the vet, they'll see the anxiety in your body language and behaviour and likely learn to hate it, too. Again using my guy an example, I starred taking him on walks long before his first vet appointment, just to get used to his carrier and leash. Then his first checkup was relaxed and informal, with plenty of treats, and I let him explore the examination room with permission from the tech. Now he loves going, so I'm not stressed about taking him, so I don't stress him out in turn, and the vest doesn't have to deal with a stressed out cat slowing things down and fighting with them.

Make sure your sources are good ones, and also good ones for you. I will recommend Jackson Galaxy's YouTube channel for cat advice because a lot of what he does matches up with what I've learned and know to be true. I don't personally recommend Ceasar Milan because I personally find his methods distressing to recreate regardless of efficacy, so even if that advice was useful, *I'd* be miserable, and it'd just be trading one issue for another.

Have a person who can help. You never know when you might end up out of town overnight unexpectedly, or when your place may need serviced or fumigated, or if you may be called out of town. Before getting a cat, research reliable pet sitters, house sitters, pet daycares, whatever, just in case.

Consider pet insurance. No long spiel here, just think about it. Especially if you don't know your cats ancestry or potenyial health risks. An on top of that, fucking vaccinate them.

Dont let them free roam. At all.

I grew up on a farm with free-roaming barn cats. Do you know how many times child-me cried over having to bury them? Illness, disease, pregnancy, vehicles, other territorial cats, ticks, fleas, litter, poisoned prey, malicious humans, local wildlife, predatory birds, scrap metal, extreme heat, freezing temperatures, tainted water sources, poisonous or venomous critters, getting stuck in small or high places, tapeworms, loose nails, old equipment, falling branches...

I've seen some truly body-horror slasher-movie shit- just truly nauseating visual fuckery- and I'm telling you not to let your cat free-roam.

Leash training isn't hard. Supervised walks aren't hard. Even keeping your cat physically fit and entertained indoors isn't an impossible feat. Don't let your fucking cat fucking free-roam. Fuck

Also read up on foods and plants cats can't do, like every houseplant in existence is toxic it's insane

Anyhow yeah that's like. A couple things I guess

Here, have an Ollie Pic

[luveline]

jade!! I come on hands and knees begging for more rockstar!remus with shy!reader. I LOVE THEM. how are they doing?!

thank you for requesting! fem, 1k

You fit the part, tonight. Marlene has dressed you in her clothes —you wear a dark jacket covered in gothic, skeletal linework, a skirt barely long enough to show beneath it, with black tights and tall shoes. 

Remus isn’t sure what it is about the slightly too big jacket that he likes so much. Maybe it’s your thighs on show, shadowed flanks of softness he knows too well. It could be your eyes, their ringing of dark kohl, your lengthened lashes. Perhaps it’s none of those things. After all, Remus has always loved to watch you laugh. 

James thrusts his pint against yours, a splash of his cherry cider lapping the end of the cup to seep into your lemonade. Remus is unsure if there’s anything in it of substance, but you sip it through a breathless laugh and confirm that it hasn’t changed. No harm, no foul. 

Remus taps his cigarette carton against the table out of habit. Sirius reaches for him before Remus has even split the seal, fingers pinching, pale hand expectant. Remus knocks into them with the carton and turns so Sirius can’t see him opening the box. “Thought you were off them?” Remus asks, quiet with the slower atmosphere at the table, so far from the bar. 

“Can anyone ever really be off them?” Sirius asks. 

He pressed himself into Remus’ arm, all the overfamiliarity of a best, best friend. Searching for comfort and selfish vices. 

Remus hugs him suddenly, a rough arm around the back of his head in a hold that tugs curls as he uses the other hand to slide a cigarette between his lips. “Here, you baby.”

“Fuck off,” Sirius says around it. 

Remus takes his own cigarette and shoves the box back in his pocket. Sirius lights his own, lights Remus’, and together they tip their heads back, getting a glance at the oranging ceiling and the upstairs drinking pit. 

“She’s sweet, letting Marl dress her up a bit.” 

“Makes Marlene feel better,” Remus says. 

“Yeah, it does. Reckon she and Mary will mend it?” 

Remus shrugs. The love triangle between Mary, Marlene and Dorcas is confusing. He loves them, though, so it’s a confusing he understands. “It won't be long before we find out.” 

You, James and Emmeline begin to make your way back to the table. You have two drinks each, too many for the amount of people, though none of you seem to have noticed. You’re just giggling and meandering around low chairs until you get there. 

James slams his drinks down and grabs you from the side. “My sweethearts, I return the sweethearts.” 

“Can I have one?” Emmeline asks. 

Remus passes her the cigarette carton dutifully. 

“Can I–”

“No,” Remus says. 

You squint at him. “Don’t be weird,” you say, embarrassed, taking the box when Emme passes it, sliding it between painted lips, “I’m not a baby.” 

You talk around the cigarette with the ease of practice. If there’s one thing life on the road gives, it’s addiction. Remus is thankful that you and all of your friends chose nicotine. 

“You’re trying to quit.” Remus feels the funny burn of smoke as he inhales again. “And I’m trying to help you.” 

“Same help you gave Sirius, clearly,” James says. 

“C’mere,” Remus says, opening his arm for you. “Come on.” 

You grin and weave around Emme to his side of the table, propping a drink in front of him. “For you.” 

“Thank you.” He blows smoke as far from your face as he can manage and tucks you under his arm. 

The makeup on your lips is rubbing off, a darker outlining with light insides, but it’s enough to express Marl’s taste. Remus will be happy to kiss the rest of it away later on, when James and Sirius are drunk enough to become openly obsessed with one another and leave him alone, carving out some rare alone time. 

You smoke as Remus taught you to. He remembers the day, your shaking, his chest pain, not wanting to corrupt you and yet enlivened by the way you looked trying to foster the flame at the end of it. Nicotine helps calm your nerves, which you’re often in need of, but Remus never meant for it to become a crux. He snuffs his cigarette in the ashtray and catches yours to do the same, barely two puffs in. 

“Wha–”

“Let me have a look at you,” he says. 

Your friends scoff and jeer but quickly move on. Remus catches your chin between his fingers. 

He’s not like Sirius. He couldn’t do this to any girl, can’t seduce like that, but it’s not any girl he touches. Your eyes go to swimming pleasure as he pulls you forward, edging downward to kiss you. You both taste of smoke, of drink, and it would put him off if there wasn’t something sweeter to be chased in your mouth. He kisses you like there’s no one at the table but you.

He’s had more to drink than he thinks. 

“You taste like jaeger,” you say, pulling away with cheeks he’d find hot if he were to cradle and a shy smile. 

“Do I?” 

“That’s a thousand times worse for you than those, you know.” You point at his quickly dwindling pack of cigarettes. 

Remus curls an arm behind your neck and kisses you again. James cheers, says, “Fuck, I wish Moony kissed me like that,” and Remus tries his best to ignore him, but you’re laughing. The kiss breaks.

“Just ask him nicely like I do,” you advise. 

“You know that doesn’t work!” James says, tipping his head back with a hand to the forehead. “I always ask him nicely, he just doesn’t want to kiss me. Must be something about you…” He gives a huge smile as he lifts his cider.  “Something I don’t have?” 

“Impossible,” Sirius says blithely, “you’ve everything, gorgeous boy.” 

“Something about you,” Remus echoes. 

You shake your head minutely, a silent warning. Don’t flirt with me, it says. Don’t torture me. 

“How do you want the answer?” Remus asks, sliding his arm back behind your shoulders, pulling your burning face against his neck. “I can give it to you in an essay or a list, but it’s an extensive explanation.” 

“Write it down for me.”

[azsazz]

Over Ice (Part 3)

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: She’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!!

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3147

(Part 1) (Part 2)

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Rhysand’s face hurts.

His hands do, too, but the scrapes and splits in the skin of his knuckles have nothing on the cut in his lip, which currently stings from the rush of alcohol that passes over his lips.

It’s cold, crisp, and free, so it’s the best beer he’s had all night.

Hell, his cheek is bruised too. It’s not a Picasso of mottled yellows, greens, and purples yet—curtesy of the time he spent poking and prodding the knotted bump in one of the locker room mirrors, post shower.

The only thing that isn’t bruised is his ego because he more than won that fight against the Penguin’s center, Kallias Winterborough. He fucking wiped the ice with him and then proceeded to use the rest of his team to clean house.

Somewhere in the Hockey House—aptly named for the number of players that reside in the five-bedroom, two-story craftsman—you and his cousin meander around, violet Solo Cups in hand because the red ones are so overrated. Plus, one of their biggest rivals—the Foxes—wear crimson, and no one at Velaris University would ever be caught repping that team at one of his parties.

It's a move he’s regretting a little too much right now, unable to revel in the Bat’s big win with his lip split in two. Fucker got him good, he can admit, but never aloud. Cassian would never let him live it down and Azriel would shoot him a scathing glare at the mere mention of another school’s team under their roof.

Az takes his superstitions seriously.

“Rhys, dude.” Cassian stumbles in through the square arch connecting the spacious living room to the cozy kitchen. It’s the only thing Rhysand doesn’t like about the Hockey House: no open floorplan. That means, when he plays host as he so often does because he can’t afford a hangover from hell following most mornings, he can’t see what’s going on in the kitchen if he’s in the living room or vice versa.

He can’t see people sneaking up the stairs, and even though he keeps his room locked at all times following the Cassian Incident™ that included two leggy blondes and the Frozen Four first place trophy—announcing the next afternoon that blondes do, in fact, have more fun—he still doesn’t trust a horde of university students on a high from their win not to do anything stupid.

Speaking of stupid…Cassian slides to a halt beside him. He’s so eager to share whatever the hell with Rhys that he overshoots, slamming his hip into the counter. His friend howls, and much unto Rhys’ surprise, others join in, like it’s some kind of victory cry and not one that says ‘I just bashed my hip in, somebody help me, please.’

Rhysand is in no mood to help.

“What’s up, Cass?” Rhys sighs, frowning when he tips his bottle back to his mouth only to find it empty. He hadn’t realized how much he drank; thought he was nursing it with the way his lip burns.

Cassian’s face contorts from pain back to amused like a flick of a switch and the pain was long forgotten. His nose is permanently crooked from the number of times he’s broken it during fights both on and off the ice, and he’d be missing one of his pearly whites if he hadn’t just gotten it fixed earlier this week. Thankfully, his moustache has been shaved off for tonight, showing off his plump, pink lips. His brunet hair is the longest on the team, just brushing the tops of his massive shoulders, and thankfully. On one side, it’s tucked tightly behind his ear, showing off the gold ring he punched through it on a dare at their first party freshman year.

Cassian’s hazel eyes have a spark in them that 1: Rhys has seen too many times, and 2: never means anything good.

Rhysand narrows his own, breaking that eager contact to scour the kitchen for another beer because goddammit, he’s going to need it with the way his friend is all but shaking with excitement.

“Have you found your nurse yet?” Cassian asks, trailing him around the marble slab counter.

“My what?” Rhysand side-steps a couple making out so hard that they go crashing into the first thing that isn’t each other: the wall. The petite girl with bright blue hair whimpers loudly, and the noise is swallowed up by the guy that’s sticking his tongue straight down her windpipe.

It looks grosser than it seems, Rhys defends when a pang of want slaps him right in the chest.

“Your nurse, dude,” Cassian whines. He slips on a rogue wet patch on the obsidian floor tiles and now Rhysand has another thing to dislike in this house. All he needs is someone cracking their skull open on his kitchen floor or the couple to fall and have his teeth through her lips from the impact. “You know, cause you’re all injured.” He waves flippantly towards Rhysand’s wounds.

“I don’t need a nurse,” Rhys answers, confused. He pulls open the fridge and snags two beers off of the shelf Cassian and two of his other roommates have dedicated it to. He hands one to his friend, who pops the top off with his teeth, and Rhys raises an unimpressed brow. “I didn’t get that hurt.” Plus, he’s already been to see the team trainer for his shiners.

He busies himself with the beer opener that’s stuck to the side of the fridge, then grabs the roll of paper towels from their holder to wipe up the mess Cassian’s leaving footprints with. Well, he unrolls a few and tosses them onto the spill, anyway.

“No, I mean like a lady nurse.” Cassian waggles his brows. “Someone who can kiss you better, maybe even give you a hand—”

And, well, that might just help his mood.

“Hey.” Azriel breezes into the kitchen like he’s still on his skates. He has his own cup in hand, filled with water. Rhys know this because he’s never seen Azriel drink anything other than water and the occasional coffee. He takes his training more seriously than half of the team, which bodes well for Rhys because he always has a gym buddy, but sometimes, he wishes his friend would let loose, even if it meant seeing a girl. Or sleeping with one. “Heads up.”

The warning has Rhys standing straighter, ready to abandon his beer on the counter to play his role as captain and the one in charge of the party. His roommates naturally defer to him in house affairs because they’re used to it, but really, Rhys doesn’t have much more room in his packed schedule for warding off drunk students and stopping fights.

The last thing he needs tonight is to find himself in the middle of a fight.

“Rhys!” A perky blonde squeals, and his shoulders drop for a second only to tense right back up when his cousin throws herself into his arms.

He catches her with an oof, spitting out her wild locks that somehow always end up everywhere. He loves his cousin dearly, like a sister, but why is she here right now?

He doesn’t see you following your roommate into the kitchen, jaw slack like it’s been since you first saw the Hockey House lit up in all of its glory. The place is absolutely massive, it looks like it could rival one of the houses on Greek row.

The kitchen is moody yet warm. The dark tiles match the onyx-stained flat arch you just walked through. The lighter gray marble countertop brightens the room, and the deep blue cabinets paired with the soft lighting paints the room in perfect synchrony.

It’s absolutely stunning.

Neither of you see the other at first. Rhys because he’s still trying to blink Mor’s hair from his eyes and you because you’re entranced by the interior design of the home. There’s no way five boys could possibly live here, let alone five hockey players. It’s a bit of a mess with the party raging around you, yes, but you haven’t seen one hole in the drywall, not one forgotten dish nor a pair of boxers left of the bathroom floor—you checked.

Because you were using the restroom of course, you weren’t looking for that specific reason.

“Hey, Mor,” Rhys greets when she finally detaches herself from him. She doesn’t go far, only stepping back enough to introduce you to him. “What are you doing here?”

Violet eyes clash with yours, drawing your heart to a standstill. He looks just as good as he did when you were sprawled out on his chest: dark hair clean and mussed through, red lips parted as if the words he wants to say are stuck in his throat.

The only thing different about him now is that cut in his lip and the redness to his cheek from his fight on the ice that you bore witness to.

The memory replays in your mind again, awakening tingles in your body that shouldn’t be. And just how you’re praying for them not to, they converge right between your thighs, settling in nice and hot and begging for attention as the sight of him with burning violet eyes as he decks his opposition across the jaw replays.

It really shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, and he himself shouldn’t be as hot as he is, either.

You hold yourself still, focusing eighty percent on your attention on trying to calm your eager bits down and the other twenty percent on making sure you don’t look constipated while doing so.

Rhys blinks at you and you return his blank stare, watching, waiting to see if he recognizes you, too.

Oh, he does.

“We came to see your game tonight,” she says, as if it isn’t obvious from your attire. The attire that Rhys is currently dragging his eyes down, drinking in every inch—all four of them—of the jersey your roommate forced you into tonight. You watch his eyes flare as he reads the number across your chest. His number, you’re just now realizing.

Heat floods your cheeks but you’re unable to bolt like you so desperately want to. Your heart is beating three times as fast in your chest as he slowly, slowly, rakes his gaze up from your legs that are glued to the floor, all the way to your eyes, that are glued to his face.

“This is (Y/N),” Mor announces, gesturing to you with a flourish. When you make no move forward to greet them, her red nails curl around the hem of your jersey and yank.

You stumble forward, and the trance is broken. Unfortunately, so is your face, because you slip in something on the tiles and are plummeting face-first into the ground. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, lips parted to scream or groan, whichever your mind catches up to first—

The impact never comes. Strong hands grip your arms, stopping you from eating tile. You’re too stunned to speak, even when you’re planted back on your feet and staring into the chest you were lying on only this afternoon.

Rhysand Cunningham.

Jesus, you’re really going to have to stop saying his full name like that. It’s creepy.

“Easy now,” Rhys says, making sure you’re steady. You somehow find the courage to look him in the eyes, hastily tamping down the mortification that threatens to consume you.

As soon as your eyes lock, it’s like magic.

There’s no other way to describe whatever is happening between the two of you right now. His light touch is searing, and so are his eyes as he scans your face, making sure you’re not hurt.

Rhys’ abandoned beer sits precariously close to the edge of the counter, and Cassian accidentally knocks it off with his elbow when he dodges a playful swat Mor tosses his way. It goes crashing to the floor, startling you and Rhys from your trance.

You jump, gaze following the noise. Rhys’ hands slip from your body and you shiver at the cold that replaces him, even though it’s stifling in this house with the number of bodies packed into it. You manage one large step back that he doesn’t seem to notice because he’s already snatching the paper towels from where he put them last and barking at passerby to “be fucking careful.”

“I, uh,” you stutter, and holyfuckingshit, he’s leaning over to clean up the mess. You get a full view of that toned ass; despite the jeans he’s wearing. It’s perfect, round like an apple, juicy like one too, you bet. The sudden urge to lean over and sink your teeth into it hits you like a semi— “I need to use the bathroom.”

You scurry away from your roommate and her cousin like it’s your ass that’s just been bitten into.

Rhys grumbles the entire time he cleans up the spilt beer. Cassian tried to help, his chocolate eyes wide and sad, spouting off apologies like he did something much worse than break a fucking bottle, but hissed when he cut his thumb on a sharp edge. Rhys had pushed him away from the scene immediately after that.

He wonders if Cassian is going to bound off into the living room and find himself a nurse of his own, now.

“Hey, where did your friend go?” Rhys asks Mor who’s chewing on a cherry stem. He grimaces, not even knowing where those came from.

“Roommate,” Mor answers pointedly, serving him a harsh look that only confuses the hockey player.

“Okay…where did your roommate go?” He clarifies, eyes sweeping the room for you. Disappointment prickles at his skin just as much as the look his cousin is shooting him. He’d gotten his look at you alright, but he’s suddenly feeling like the single up-down he gave you was not nearly enough.

“To the bathroom,” she answers, rounding the counter, eyeing all of the opened bottles of liquor on top. She must not see anything she likes, because he doesn’t reach for anything. “Why?”

Why? Because you brought her here and I want to be nice? Rhys thinks. I want to get to know her, maybe somewhere private—

“I didn’t really get to introduce myself.” Is what he goes with.

Mor snorts, rolling her eyes because she is not falling for that one. “She’s off limits.”

“Then why did you bring her here?” Rhys blurts, unable to stifle the words before they slip out. Damn beer.

“Because we wanted to see your game,” Mor replies, watching her cousin closely.

If you wanted to see my game, you shouldn’t have warned me against your roommate, he thinks, and then cringes.

“Well, thanks for coming, cuz,” he offers, because there’s no good rhyme or reason to start arguing with her. Especially when both of their parents are just phone calls away.

He’d rather be getting the third degree from Mor than his mother, anyway.

Rhys swiftly changes the subject. “Hope you enjoyed me kicking some ass.”

Mor’s tight face melts into amusement. She laughs, tossing her head back on her shoulders. “Yeah, I really did enjoy that, actually.”

It’s at that exact moment that Rhys catches sight of you again. You’re caught halfway in the archway of the kitchen, presumably on your way back from the bathroom. Your lips are pulled into a smile as you giggle, and he wishes he could hear it over the gods-awful music. Your eyes are bright and he watches you brush a strand of hair behind your ear, cheeks pinkening with a blush that makes him wonder just who’s putting that look on your face.

Rhys takes one step to the left and his entire body begins boiling with heat when he catches sight of one of his players speaking to you.

If she’s off limits to me, then my players are off limits to her.

And that’s exactly what they are, too, players. Mor’s right, he can’t end up letting one of his teammates fuck around with you, not when you’re so close to his cousin. She’d be devastated if you got hurt, and fuck it, he would too. He’d kill one of his guys if they broke your heart.

Rhys doesn’t talk sense into himself as he stalks your way, doesn’t think about the repercussions or his actions when he slides up to your side, all rigid muscles and sharp looks.

“What do we have here?” he asks, drawing you away from the friendly conversation you were having with the handsome hockey player about the types of tapes and casts that can be used when treating different injuries.

It’s James Attor, from your Athletic Training Techniques class. You’d recognized him, but didn’t know he played for the Velaris hockey team. He’s a sophomore like you, and more interested in the injuries part of his sport than the actual scoring.

“Oh, hey, Cap,” James greets, shrinking under the scrutinizing gaze of his team leader. He knows that look, it’s the one Rhys gets before he’s about to lose his mind on the ice. “I was just talking to (Y/N) about—”

“About nothing,” Rhys finishes for him, and you frown. What the hell is his problem?

“James, wait,” you call, but it’s too late, he’s already slipped into the crowd of people dancing in the middle of the living room, and you don’t have supervision to see through them.

Whirling around on your heel, you glare up at Rhys. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Rhys asks, striding back towards the kitchen. You decide that playing stupid doesn’t look good on him. And neither does that split lip.

You can’t believe you wanted to get closer. For a better look at his wounds, of course.

“That!” You exclaim, throwing your arm out and pointing where you were just standing. It serves no purpose because Rhys isn’t facing you, which only stokes your anger further. “I was talking to him!”

“Yeah,” he rounds on his feet so fast you don’t even see it coming and for the second time today, you run smack dab into the middle of his chest.

This time, you don’t tumble into a pile of limbs.

You blink, dumbfounded.

“And I’d prefer it if you don’t,” Rhys finishes, chest tight. He feels on edge at the way your body pressed up against his, like lightning in his veins. He grits his teeth, willing the feeling to go away.

“Yeah,” you scoff, tossing him your best glare. You cross your arms over your chest for effect, but all it does is make that skimpy shirt you’re wearing ride up more, and both Rhys’ eyes and throat catch at the sight of your creamy skin. Your word sounds like a threat when you say, “Unlikely.”

_________________________________________

Over Ice Taglist:

@saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @mrsjna @velarisdusk @bionic-donut @tenshis-cake @eleganttravelercloud @lilah-asteria @serena05 @bwormie @soph1644 @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125 @judig92 @se7enteen--black-blog @thecraziestcrayon @cherry-cin @itsinherited @justafictionalnerd

[drdemonprince]

is there a reason a lot of transmascs and trans men gravitate towards puppy play/pup related kink? it’s something i’ve noticed on the online trans community

It's not a transmasc specific thing at all. Pup play's stock is up in a massive way across a variety of communities for several reasons.

Pup play's popularity began with the gay male community, where it largely originated. Most of the major manufacturers of pup play gear are still gay men's fetishwear companies, and the kink has been enjoyed in that scene for decades because it evokes a kind of soft masculine playfulness and a gentle power dynamic, with potential elements of deindividuation and primalness that speak to a variety of people.

(It also gives men an opportunity to be tender with one another in a way that doesn't evoke gendered baggage of casting any partner as "the woman," or as less of a "man," and that also I think lent it massive appeal. )

The gay male kink community tends to have a lot more money and access to more clubs and venues than other queer communities do, and so we see a lot of experimentation and trendy-ness in its kink scene. Lots of guys have the expendable income to buy up new gear, and dungeons to play with them in. Because of this, sexual trends move quickly in the gay male world -- piss similarly had a deluge of popularity in recent years, and hypno as well. Chastity too, and now latex. Anything new and exciting that you can buy, wear, and play with will have its moment in the scene, and sprout a whole new cottage industry around it. Once the gay male dollars are flowing in, a whole kink economy forms.

As pup play was becoming a more widespread gay male kink activity, furries caught onto it as an alternative to the more expensive and cumbersome fursuiting. This has been VERY noticeable as someone who has been attending Midwest Furfest continuously since 2017. The first few years that I was going, I never saw any pup hoods (and friends who have been in the scene far longer than me have echoed this as well). There just wasn't an overlap between pups and furs much at all.

Now at furry events, there is a MASSIVE contingent of pups, and many events centered on pups and pup play. Everywhere you go at the conventions you will see hoards of pups roving around with their owners, and vendors of pup gear peddling tails, collars, muzzles, hoods, hand mitts, leashes, and more.

Compared to fursits, pup hoods are cheaper, easier to clean, easier to find, less prone to damage, more comfortable to wear, lighter weight, and can be snapped onto a belt loop or fanny pack and carried around all day. Yet it still provides an animalistic appearance and anonymity, and the ability to play with an inhuman headspace. Furries flocked to pup hoods because it had a low barrier to entry -- just $50 or so for a headpiece, many of the models customizable in a variety of colors. You can even use your pup hood color to flag what you are into!

After pup play exploded across the furry scene, it got exposed naturally to a larger contingent of trans people. Lots of furries are trans people, and vice versa, and so pup hoods spread from the Rockets and Mittens to the Aidans and Cassandras of the world with ease. Even people who aren't furries or especially kinky now find pup play adorable, for it taps into a lot of existing kinks that are also really popular right now.

We're in a zeigest that emphasizes softness and comfort, and the longing for escape from the capitalist grind and the world's horrors -- people are listening to womblike music in softly lit rooms with the curtains drawn and fantasizing about becoming stay-at-home girlfriends and cottagecore boywifes and shit.

Becoming an adored puppy who sexually services their owner in return for pets and snacks and never has to work a day in their life is highly appealing to a TON of people. Some of them, indeed, are trans guys. But if you explore the fetish and porn worlds widely (as I do), you'll see that pup play has also become massively popular among cishet people too!

Puppy girl Jenna is a massive Tiktok and OnlyFans phenomenon! Even the most basic of ahegaoing chicks on redgifs are wearing muzzles and tail butt plugs! Everybody is into puppy play right now because it is an accessible, nonthreatening, cutesy kink that allows people to envision themselves existing safely within a comforting power dynamic where they can be adored and all their problems are gone. Lots of headspacey, cuddly, escapist kinks like Bimbo have become popular for these reasons too.

And there you have it! From the early days in the leather bars to today's era of cage tours on Tiktok, pup play is very much IN with just about every sexually adventurous crowd. This has been the devon price kink stock report.

[dark-and-kawaii]

✧˖° Never Broken °˖✧

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Summary: He had failed to perform, a man, who should be strong and powerful, couldn't even get an erection anymore. It felt like his heart was shattering, he was a mess, and the thought of you leaving him over this had his hand clenched into a fist. Zevlor should know by now that you’re creative enough to find new ways to pleasure one another~ And you have no problem reminding him ♡

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Pairing: Zevlor x F!Tav/Reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Content: NSFW - Soft Cock Zevlor - Tongue Kissing - Angst - Hurt/Comfort - Tail Penetrating Your Tight Cunt - Nipple Sucking

Notes: This idea stemmed because of @daisyofwaterdeep ♡ ♡ ♡ Thank you ♡ ♡ ♡

He always feared this day would come, that he’d wake up and find himself broken, a disgrace, a lover that is of no use anymore…

Yet it still stung like nothing before.

As the years with you passed, he got older, he could feel it, he was slowing down, getting weaker, getting tired more often and having less energy every morning… Though he did his best to hide it from you.

But now, here he was.

Lying in bed, his usual hardness completely absent.

He had tried for what felt like hours to make something happen, to feel some semblance of pleasure as he touched himself.

But it was all fruitless.

No matter how hard he touched himself, or thought of you, there was no blood flowing down below.

It was all gone.

And now here he was, tears pricking at his eyes and his pride crumbling.

He had failed to perform, a man, who should be strong and powerful, couldn't even get an erection anymore. It felt like his heart was shattering, he was a mess, and the thought of you leaving him over this had his hand clenched into a fist.

He couldn't take it, the thought of losing you, the love of his life.

His eyes shut and it felt like his chest was collapsing…

Then again, was this not a fair punishment for him?

For what he had done, this was probably just his penance. He had betrayed his people, turned against them, swayed by the absolute… The very reason so many of them had fallen, the reason his comrades, his friends, were gone... Then there was you, his other half, his light… His whole world whom he had turned against that day as well, whom he had nearly killed with his own hands...

He was a failure, and this was his punishment.

He was going to lose you and have no one to blame but himself.

The tears had fallen now, staining the bed sheets beneath him.

He had no clue how long he had been laying there, crying like a lost child.

But it seemed that he would have to move eventually, since a soft knock could be heard on the door.

He quickly sat up, rubbing his eyes furiously.

He didn't want you to see him like this, you had enough of your own problems to deal with.

You didn't need to have the burden of taking care of a broken old man.

“A-Ah... I'm sorry, did I wake you, love?” You softly spoke, the door opening slowly as your head poked through the crack.

The sight made his heart flutter, your hair was styled neatly, your cheeks rosy, and you still wore your revealing night clothes. The swell of your breasts, the dip in your waist, and the curve of your hips... Gods, you were the most beautiful being he'd ever laid eyes on.

You smiled, walking into the room as he watched, “I woke up a little bit ago and was wondering if you wanted me to make you breakfast today? You always seem to be the one doing it, and well, you don't always have to do it all by yourself... Besides, I wanted to make you feel special today, my love.” You wrapped your arms around him, kissing his cheek gently.

He felt his throat close, his voice refusing to work, his heart was screaming at him to just tell you, to let you know everything, that he needed you, that he loved you so much.

“I- …” he sighed and smiled best he could, “That’s very kind of you, dear.” He whispered, his hand coming up to gently caress your cheek, the touch of your skin sending warmth throughout his entire body.

You grinned, hugging him tight and kissing his lips, a smile on your face, and a glint of mischief in your eyes. He didn’t have much time to question what you were planning before you pushed him down on the bed and straddled his hips, a soft giggle leaving you.

“Today is all about you, my love~ let me take care of you, please~ you can let me take control, just for a bit~ please?”

Zevlor’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening as you began to rub your barely covered core against him. He could feel his heart sink, a sharp pain running through his chest, you looked so happy, and here he was, about to destroy it.

He had never denied you before, not once, always willing to let you have your way with him and vice versa, to show him your love, to take him.

Yet, when you began to kiss his neck and your hands traveled lower, his own hands found their way to your wrists.

He couldn’t let you continue…

Your head cocked to the side, confusion and hurt crossing your face… Zevlor could swear that his heart had cracked even further, he could hear it.

“Wh-what’s wrong? Did I do something?”

You were already blaming yourself, it was all too much for him, he had to tell you.

He took a shaky breath, closing his eyes, then looked at you.

His beautiful, wonderful, perfect, and kind hearted love. Despite his betrayal with the others you still showed him love, you had shown him forgiveness, fought at his side countless of times, and you had taken him into your home treating him with nothing but respect and affection.

He didn’t deserve you, not at all. He accepted the reality of his fate now, he had no right to you, not when you deserved a man that could give you everything, and a cock that worked properly…

He sat up, his hands still holding your wrists as you stared at him, waiting, “what is it, Zevlor?” The fear in your voice was palpable, and his heart screamed for him to just comfort you and reassure you, tell you it was all alright.

“I-I… I am sorry, but-“

You cut him off, pulling away and sitting back on his thighs, your arms coming up to hug yourself.

His face sunk as tears began to creep in your eyes… He wanted to curse. With a deep breath he continued, “I cannot go on… My body- It will not- I- I can no longer perform- no longer function as a proper man should, I cannot satisfy you-“

Your arms released themselves from your body as your mouth hung open releasing a shaky breath, “That’s-“ You smiled and ran your fingers through your hair, “that’s a relief.” You laughed, a small sob mixed in with the sound.

Zevlor blinked, his brow furrowing as his head tilted, his heart feeling as though it had stopped, he was so confused, why would this be a relief?

He felt the heat of your hands as they came up to his face, cradling his cheeks, wiping the tears that threatened to fall, and he could see that tears had begun to fall from your own eyes.

“Zevlor, I- i was so scared… I thought- I thought that you were going to leave me… ha~” You smiled laughing quietly as your thumb traced his cheekbone.

“Tav…” He whispered, his eyes closing, his mind beginning to race.

You thought he would leave you.

You were worried he was leaving.

You feared his loss.

You wanted him.

You didn't think of him as a broken, old man.

“Zevlor, listen to me-“ you whispered, and his eyes opened, a soft sigh escaping him.

Your hands moved from his face, and he was about to reach for them again, only he stopped himself as your hands found their way to the hem of your night dress.

With a small nod, and a smile, you pull the material up and off, leaving yourself bare from the waist up, “I told you during the netherbrain war, didn’t I?” You began to grind into him ever so slowly, “That I loved you no matter what happens.”

Zevlor was speechless, his eyes roaming your figure, the sight of you always took his breath away, but now… Now he truly was at a loss for words.

The way you smiled at him, the look of pure love in your eyes, the softness of your touch, the way your voice sounded as you whispered his name, it was all too much… You- you-

“Tav…” His voice cracked, his hands shaking as he brought it up, his fingers ghosting along your cheek, his mind and heart a mess, “You deserve so much better than me, you deserve a man that can provi-“

He was cut off by the warmth of your lips pressing to his. The man melted instantly, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you close… He was drowning in your touch, the taste of your lips, the sweet scent of your skin. He didn’t want it to end, he wanted to be selfish for once…

The way you trembled in his hold, and the way your tongue prodded at his lips, begging for access, like you wanted him, needed him, it had him reeling.

His hand found the back of your head, pulling you closer, his lips parting, the softest moan leaving him… It felt so good, just kissing you, his tongue running along yours, the taste of you.

He wanted to take it further, wanted to feel you against him, but… That was the problem.

You wanted him, and he-

Pulling away, his hand still on the back of your head, keeping you close as he kissed the corner of your mouth, “I’m sorry, Tav… I just can’t pleasure-”

“There are plenty of ways you can still pleasure me, my love. You don't have to be hard in order to make me scream your name,” Your tongue swirled around his neck, biting at his ear, whispering softly, "I still need you, Zevlor, I still want you… Besides, just the sight of you is enough to make me wet-“

Zevlor shuddered, his grip tightening, a dark blush forming on his cheeks, he couldn't help it.

Your hand reached for his tail, “and I’m sure we can get creative~ I still need my hellrider~ and you are the only one that can make me beg~ even if it’s soft and leaking with precum~” You brought the tip of his tail to your lips, sucking and nibbling lightly, “And who else would know how to use their tongue better than my Zevy~"

Zevlor moaned, his eyes glazing over as he watched. Your mouth felt amazing, and the way your tongue rolled against his sensitive tail… Hells, he could already feel his body heating up.

You were always a master with words, knowing exactly what to say and do to make him submit to your whims, to make him feel whole even when he felt broken...

By the end of the night you were both naked, the blanket kicked to the floor, and the bed rocking against the wall.

You were straddling him, his tail buried in your cunt carefully as his mouth was latched onto your breast. His beautiful soft cock drooling cum, pressed between the two of you.

He had come multiple times, and his mind was blissfully numb as his fingers played with your clit, his tongue rolling over your nipple.

“Ze-Zevlor~ Mnnnhaa~ T-Tails s’deep~ L-Love y-you! Love y-ou! S’much! I-I love y-you so-o~ m-much~” You panted, moaning loudly, his tail- by the gods, was it wonderful. It hurt at first, the stretch and the sharp pain, but his careful ministrations made the pain melt away into nothing but pleasure.

He could never be broken in your eyes. It was a simple truth, and there was no way you’d ever let him slip through your fingers. Not ever. Zevlor would always be perfect to you

[goldessia]

first love!reader x second love!megumi

it was always apparent a part of megumi’s heart would belong to his first love. i mean, anyone’s would, right? the first person you love will remain in your heart forever.

but, sometimes, it was hard.

megumi was my first love. is, my first love. the first person i let touch my soul, my heart, and my body. i was wholly, rawly, his.

but, a year into dating, things started to get hard.

a few of megumi’s friends from his old friend-group from his high-school touched base with him. his first love was apart of that group, but they told him they’d long stopped contacting her a while ago.

so, he agreed to meet up with them, both as a chance for his old friends to meet me, and to catch up with them.

an evening dinner is what we agreed on.

“do you think i should wear something fancy?”

“huh?” megumi says, still tired from his nap. “well, do you want to?”

“if you will, i will.” i shrug, holding up my black dress.

i hear the ruffle of our bed, footsteps behind me, and then i feel the warmth of his hands on my stomach as he hugs me. he breathes me in, resting his head on my shoulder.

“i don’t mind. you’ll look beautiful, anyways.” he smiles, presses a kiss to my cheek, and moves toward the bathroom to freshen up.

despite us being together for over a year, his compliments still make me flustered and nervous. i blush, smiling, and opt for jeans and a shirt instead of the dress.

it was just a dinner with friends, right?

when we arrived, i realized i made the wrong decision. apparently, over the years his friends got fancy jobs and therefore were wealthy, and opted for an extremely over-the-top fancy restaurant.

i groan as i step out the car, megumi closing the door behind me after he had opened it.

“this is where we’re eating for a casual let’s-catch-up-dinner?” i frown.

“itadori got some cash, i guess..” he shrugs, “he said he was paying for our meals, so i didn’t think it was very fancy.”

“i’m wearing jeans!” i huff, “they’re going to think i’m some hood-rat you picked up off the street.”

megumi laughs.

“don’t laugh at me!”

he slings an arm around my waist, urging me forward. “they’ll love you. you don’t have to worry.” he places a kiss on my temple, “they’re good people.”

“okay..” i say hesitantly, not really taking in his words.

we step into the restaurant, quickly finding the table as the pink-haired boy, itadori, i presumed, yelled megumi’s name.

“fushiguro!” he yells, the restaurant quieting down to see the commotion, “over here!”

megumi rubs his temples, and cocks his head toward the table. i pick at my fingernails, nervous to walk toward them.

i was happy to see they weren’t wearing any fancy suits or dresses. itadori was wearing sweatpants. nobara was wearing the same as i, jeans and a shirt.

“fushiguro, i see you’re not gray yet.” nobara looks to me, and her eyes widen. “and you have a pretty girlfriend!” she exclaims, “you must be y/n.”

“yeah, uh.. how’d you know?”

“fushiguro told us all about you. the love of my life, he said!”

megumi smiles. i admire the way he isn’t ashamed as he says, “that she is.”

“a few more people are coming.” itadori exclaims as we slide into the booth, “friends of friends, and all that.”

his voice has a certain edge to it, as if he were hiding something.

“that’s fine.” megumi says, “so, what about you, itadori? found yourself a girlfriend, yet?”

“oh, please! nobody would be able to handle itadori. he’s too much.” nobara waves her hand, taking a sip of her wine.

“rude!”

thirty minutes later, the others from his old friend group arrive. gojo and his wife, and a few other of megumi’s teachers flow into the restaurant, followed by—

my heart catches in my throat. silence fills the table.

megumi stiffens beside me. “what is she doing here?” he nearly fumes, a hand wrapping tight around my waist.

itadori chockes on his beer, “oh! uh, um…” he stutters.

“did you know she was coming?” megumi asks, his voice tense, eyes ripping away from her and toward itadori.

“.. would you be mad if i said yes?”

“itadori, i will—“

“megumi!” a voice exclaims. there she was, in her pretty red dress, even more beautiful face and brunette hair. she was an exchange student in their second year. they dated for three years before they broke up.

i feel my heart sink. i look at megumi, and his whole face is tense. his pupils are small, his lips opened in shock. after all, he hadn’t seen her in years. he quickly closes them.

“call me fushiguro.” he says coldly, sparing me a glance. for a second, his eyes soften, his pupils relax. but still, his whole body was tense.

“no need to be so cold to me.” she scoffs, before her eyes turn to me. her eyes scan over me, almost in disgust. i hear her whisper, “this is my replacement?”

she sits across from me, and i feel.. i feel like shit.

he never told me she was so beautiful.

for the rest of the dinner, megumi is silent. i try to place my hand in his, but he pulls it away, shaking his head and looking out the window.

i frown.

i feel tears prickle on my eyes, and god save me if i cried in front of her.

“oh my god, and y/n—“ itadori rambles. he was telling me a story of when they were young.

“you’ll have to excuse me.” i cut him off, a small crack in my voice.

“oh. is everything okay?”

“yeah.” i nod, “i just need to use the washroom.”

i give a reassuring smile as i slide out the booth. megumi’s hand catches my wrist, and he gives me a confused look.

i say nothing and slide my hand away from him, walking toward the door.

i felt like my chest was going to explode; like my heart was going to explode. the second i open the front door and fresh air catches in my lungs, i..

i break.

a tear slides down my cheek, and i am quick to wipe it away. pretty much all the customers had gone away, as it was nearing to close time.

fuck. fuckfuckfuck.

it shouldn’t hurt this bad— why does it hurt this bad? he said he’d gotten over her, that he had no feelings, but it’s so so obvious that part of him still does.

i nearly slide down the wall when i hear a ping from my phone, forcing me back into reality.

megumi. 💍

are you okay?

i stare at the message. i go to type, but everything is blurry, and my hands are shaking. i shut my phone off, and crumble.

a minute later, i hear the chime of the door opening.

“y/n?”

the voice that used to be comforting fills my ears. i turn my head away, shaking my head.

“y/n, talk to me.”

his voice sounds nothing more than an echo. i feel his hands, his warm hands, slide around my face as he kneels next to me, turning my head to look at him.

“oh, baby.” he whispers. i want to push away, i should. but, his touch brings me comfort, he brings me comfort, even if he is the source of my current misery.

“what’s wrong?” he says in my ear, a hand brushing over my back. “talk to me.”

i finally find enough will to push him away. his face shows so much hurt, so much confusion.

“you still love her, don’t you?” my hoarse, tired voice cuts through the night.

“wha.. i, no, no, i don’t love her!” he is quick to defend himself. “our relationship ended years ago. all feeling toward her is gone.”

“that’s a lie. you’re lying.” i say as i stand. i push his hand away that tries to brush the tear off my cheek. “be honest with me here.”

“i am, i am.” he ushers. he raised his hand once more, but hesitated. “i.. you can’t just.. expect me to forget everything that happened between me and her.”

“so i’m right. you still love her.”

he stutters. “i don’t.. i don’t have an answer to that.”

my heart breaks. shatters, even. the man i love, the first and last man i would ever love, still has feelings for an ex he broke up with over five years ago.

i shake my head. my whole body feels like it’s going to crumble any second.

“i’m sleeping at my mothers tonight.” i say, turning away from him.

“wait, wait!” he catches me, hands clasping around my face. he brings me close, eyes scanning my face in a frenzy. “don’t.. don’t do that. please.”

“i need time.” i say, without a hint of emotion in my tone. “away from you.”

“we can figure everything out.” he says, pulling me into him. my body meshes with his, his arms tightly around my waist. “i do admit, some part of me still loves her.” he whispers, like it pains him to say.

i go to push away from him.

“but, but!” he grabs my wrist. “but.. no matter what, it will never shadow the love i have for you.

“back then, i was young, and stupid. my heart was vulnerable. for a while after we had broken up, i never thought i’d find love again.

“but then, i found you. and even though apart of my heart always has a place for her, it’s in the past. i was fifteen when we met. i didn’t know how to handle a relationship, i didn’t even know what love was. truly.

“you taught me that. you taught me what it means to love someone unconditionally. you taught me what it means to love someone.”

my throat catches.

“do you mean that?” i whisper.

“with my whole being, i mean that.” he lets me go, eyes looking over my face. “fuck death do we part, i will find you in every single lifetime. you are all that i want.”

slowly, i smile.

“okay.”

“.. okay.” he nods, face slowly softening. he kisses the crown of my head, breathing in and holding me to his chest. “i love you.”

“i love you too.”

[ariaste]

A Discussion on Book Endings

Hey, friends. Thanks for coming today. I'm sorry to break it to you, but this is an intervention. Please, don't get defensive -- everyone here loves you and cares about you. But listen... I'm gonna need book readers and reviewers to reflect on the idea that finishing a book and going "Oh, I loved it so much, but I wish it was just a few pages longer!" is not really a valid point of negative critique in the assessment of a text.

Let me explain.

When I read people's otherwise wildly positive reviews of books and they say that line, I don't interpret it in context as, "This story needed to be a few pages longer for the plot to work, structurally, and for the ending to achieve a solid resolution." Rather, they basically seem to be saying simply, "I loved it and I didn't want it to end." That's always a GREAT feeling, but then they're.... taking points off from their total rating because of that??? They seem to be penalizing the author because they weren't left with a feeling of "Ugh, thank god it's over"? It's like, "This would have been five stars if it had had just one more chapter but it made me sad that it ended, so four stars" -- Guys, do we understand that's an insane take? It's insane. A book has to end. If you shriek "NO!!!" that it's over because you were having such a great time, that's... that's a symptom of a 5-star book, babes. I'm not sure why there's such a fashion these days for penalizing authors for this particular thing in this particular way, but it's really baffling to me.

But setting aside the puzzling trend of "I'm knocking points off because it ended when it should have gone on until I personally was fully bored and exhausted of it, like the 11th season of a TV show that was only supposed to go until season 4" -- listen, I guarantee you that nine times out of ten, when you're out here longing for just one more chapter or saying "this could have used an epilogue" you... are wishing for something that would have actively ruined your enjoyment and the quality of the book.

Are you a writer yourself? Have you ever finished writing a book before? Have you done it more than once? Have you deeply studied the endings of books? They are HARD, let me tell you what. Endings are so much harder than beginnings, because you're looking for that beautiful final note, like the ending of a symphony, and you're trying to ride it for a few glorious seconds before the FLOURISH and dum-dummmmmm....! and the conductor collapses as the audience bursts into applause! Right? Yes? Except that chances are that one more chapter or epilogue would ruin the pacing and resolution of the ending and muddle up the summary of the theme and thesis statement, and all of this WOULD ACTUALLY fuck up your experience of the story as a whole. For example, please consider the last Harry Potter book as an example. We all hate JKR now for being a TERF but oh, children, how quickly we forget that back in the olden times, we used to hate her for that fucking epilogue that made everything that came before feel rancid and pointless and hollow and cheap. Y'all remember how sickening and infuriating that was? Do you remember the Hunger Games epilogue? Nine times out of ten, that's what you're inexplicably wishing for.

To see this point illustrated, let's do a quick exercise together. Go pick out a piece of classical music -- some of my best suggestions for this are Beethoven's Ode to Joy, or "Der Holle Rache" from Mozart's Magic Flute, or Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture. Listen to it all the way through. If you're struggling with scrolling addiction and your attention span has been severely damaged, fine, listen to the last two minutes ("Der Holle Rache" is the shortest, just 3 minutes). Then, after the song is done, click back to some random spot earlier in the piece, listen to another 30 seconds, and then stop. Consider: Did adding that last 30 seconds materially improve the piece, or did it undermine the overall emotional journey? Did it help the ending to stick the landing even more than it already did, or does it just feel weirdly stuck-on as an afterthought, like the "for more fun videos, check out the rest of our channel and don't forget to subscribe!!!" card at the end of youtube videos?

When you are wishing for an epilogue, my doves, you are wishing for something you do not actually want -- or which you probably would not want if you had the option to see it in practice and compare it side by side with the original. You are wishing for something that would more than likely make the story worse. You are holding the author at fault for something being wrong with the text only because you hit immersion and were having a lot of fun and didn't want to come back up for air. Like, I'm just not sure that's something that the author should be blamed for? It sounds like they were doing their job really well???

Please, just. Separate your feelings of "bittersweet disappointment that this wonderful book is over" from "frustration that the author didn't stick the landing, ugh what a flop" because they are two separate things. Before you say "I'm taking points off because I wish there was more", please take two seconds to ask yourself critical thinking questions like, "Why did the author choose to end the book here rather than in two more chapters?" because (other than a few wild outliers that should not be counted) the answer is never, "They got bored and just didn't feel like finishing the story." Chances are, they chose that specific ending for a reason. They ended it there because that's the point that underlines the thesis statement of the book, or because the emotions of that scene are the ones they want you to remember and walk away with, or because that marks the place where the story arc is genuinely over. When the author says, "And they all lived happily ever after," that means that what happily-ever-after looks like is in your hands now.

Nine times out of ten, you don't want one more chapter. Please. I promise you that you don't want one more chapter. The book is done; what you want now is either fanfiction or someone to talk about it with. Or maybe to start the book over from the beginning! Believe me, you would not want one more chapter if you had it. (Or, if you did have it and it magically didn't suck, you would just keep wanting more chapters because that's what "really enjoying the book" means. In which case, go read fanfic, that's what it is for.) I promise you, I promise you, the book would probably be worse with one more chapter and you would not like it as much. Please stop wishing for the author to be less good at their job. Please. A book has to end; so does this post. And we all live happily ever after*. The End.

----- * The post-canon coffeeshop AU sequel will be detailed exhaustively on AO3

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/761793022242504704/i-think-some-of-us-are-so-burned-by-anti-stuff

This is something that I've seen crop up a lot in fandom spaces. My friend had to explain to someone that no, not liking Returnal doesn't mean she's an anti. She can't stomach the depiction of child death because her kid died IRL and it's a lot. Doesn't mean she's an anti. Doesn't mean she thinks Returnal shouldn't exist. It just means she's not into it.

I've had to explain to people that my not liking FNAF doesn't mean I'm an anti who thinks child death shouldn't be depicted in media. I have a 200k long fic where child death is central to the plot. I'm not triggered by it. I'm not an anti who needs to grow up. A game isn't for me. It ain't that deep.

My brother, who watches/reads things but doesn't engage in fandom much, got called an anti while on a date. He doesn't like sex scenes in movies. He always feels embarrassed. The way he explained it, he feels like he's intruding on a private moment. Not once has he ever said sex scenes are unnecessary or shouldn't be in existence or whatever antis say. But not liking them? That's "being an anti" now.

Fandom people need to relearn this: having preferences is not the same as being an anti. Antis want things they don't like to not be allowed to be depicted. Disliking something is not the same as wanting it censored. It's not the same as saying anyone who likes the thing is an IRL predator, or saying it'll normalize bad things, or any other number of anti takes.

Disliking something is nearly universal. Almost everyone has a thing they dislike. If you view disliking something as a red flag, you yourself have that red flag and so does every person you know.

I am once again begging fandom to stop thinking in binaries. Media is not an "if you're not with me, you're against me" thing.

--

[allmoshnobrain]

𝖔𝖋 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖍𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

dean winchester x hunter!reader | word count: 1,7k | requests are open! send yours here

“Sam died, sweetheart,” he whispered, and your heart clenched at his words. Why did he have to call you that right now? “And I made a deal to bring him back. I had to.” “This isn’t funny,” you said, your voice trembling. “Dean, you can’t be serious.” “I’m serious,” he replied, his tone firm. “I wouldn’t lie. Not about this.”

✦ on this fic: dean winchester x reader, fem!reader but this part is pretty neutral, angst, s3 spn plot

✦ a/n: this is my first time writing a reader insert for the supernatural universe. this is super angsty, and other parts to this au may come in the future so feel free to shoot me an ask if you have any suggestions! hope u enjoy the read 🖤

Word travels fast in a hunter’s world.

In a job where information is everything, sharing what you know wasn’t just helpful, but also expected. So, when the Devil’s Gate opened and demons started pouring out everywhere, it didn’t take long before you heard about it. It didn’t come as a surprise when you heard Sam and Dean Winchester had been there when it happened, right in the middle of it. You knew the boys; you knew they had a knack for getting mixed up in every kind of mess that popped up, ever.

What did surprise you, though, was Dean showing up on your doorstep less than a month later.

You knew something was off the second you saw him. First, because he was alone, and honestly, you couldn’t remember ever seeing him without Sam around. But mostly, it was the look in his eyes. As soon as you opened the door, he smiled at you, but his eyes didn’t follow — there was a storm brewing in his green irises, one even he didn’t seem to notice.

“Dean,” you said, frowning as he stood in your doorway. “How did you…”

“Bobby told me,” he cut you off, like it was no big deal, not even waiting for you to finish asking how the hell did he know where you lived. Of course, Bobby had. You sighed — would’ve been nice if Bobby gave you a heads-up, but whatever. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, but… what’s going on?” you asked, stepping aside to let him into your little cabin. It wasn’t much — pretty small, tucked away from the town, and didn’t look like anything special from the outside. Inside, though, was another story. Your eyes flicked up to the devil’s trap right above the door, and you felt a wave of relief when Dean walked right under it. Okay, not possessed. That’s a start.

“Can’t I just pay a visit to an old friend?” he asked, and you raised an eyebrow. Sure, you’d crossed paths with Dean more than a few times — occupational hazard of being a hunter — but something about this felt off. It wasn’t like him to just show up without a reason, especially with everything that had gone down in the past few weeks.

“Dean, what’s wrong?” you pressed, not letting him off the hook. His smile faltered, quickly replaced by that familiar annoyed look he got when he didn’t want to talk about whatever was actually on his mind.

“Why does something have to be wrong?”

You rolled your eyes. “Because you never just drop by for no reason. Where’s Sam?”

“Not here,” he muttered, and you couldn’t help but scoff. “Look, I’m fine. Everything's fine.  Bobby just figured you’d wanna know what went down with the Colt and yellow-eyes…”

“I’ve got a phone,” you cut in, crossing your arms. 

Dean sighed, his usual swagger faltering for a second as he cleared his throat, almost like he was nervous. “And… maybe he also thought I could use some time away from hunting, just for a bit, you know? With someone I… I liked being around.”

He couldn’t even look at you when he said it, a slight blush creeping up his neck. It wasn’t the Dean you were used to seeing, and that made your heart skip in a way you weren’t entirely prepared for.

You blinked in surprise. Dean, shy? Around you, of all people? That was rare. You’d seen him flirt before — hell, he was good at it and he knew it. This wasn’t the Dean you were used to, but then again, he wasn’t exactly acting like his usual self today.

“You’re not a shapeshifter, are you?” you asked, slowly. He huffed.

“No, I’m not.”

“Mind if I check?” You grabbed the knife you always kept strapped to your thigh. Dean just shrugged, holding his hand out. You took it, his skin warm under your fingers, and pressed the iron blade against it until it drew blood. No reaction, a small twitch in his arm muscles the only sign he’d felt anything. 

“See?” he said, his voice a little rough. “Not a shapeshifter, not a demon, just good ol’ me.”

Alright then. As weird as it was, it looked like Dean Winchester had really shown up at your place just to… hang out? You glanced up at him, wiping your knife off on your jeans before sliding it back into its sheath.

“Sorry about that,” you muttered. “Come on, let me patch you up.”

“So,” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow as you finished wrapping the bandage around his hand. “What’ve you been up to? Working any cases?”

“Why do you wanna know? Weren’t you supposed to be taking a break from hunting for a few days?” you shot back, and he chuckled. You glanced up at him. “You know I don’t hunt as much as you guys. I mostly just keep an eye on this area. But it’s been pretty quiet lately.”

“Yeah, well, you take care of yourself, alright? Lots of demons running around lately,” he said. “If you ever need backup, just call me.”

“Thanks,” you replied quietly. “I haven’t been up to much other than keeping an eye on things. Honestly, I was worried about you guys. Heard you were at the Devil’s Gate when everything went down.”

“We were trying to stop it,” Dean said, and you nodded.

“I figured as much. But…” You hesitated. “That’s not exactly what everyone’s saying.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, frowning a bit as he flexed his hand, checking how well he could move it with your bandages. “Who’s everyone?”

“The other hunters,” you said. “They’re saying Sam… and you… you guys made the whole thing happen.”

Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes and running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“And did you believe that bullshit?”

“I didn’t! Just… Please be careful out there, alright? Not all hunters are as friendly right now.” He looked at you for a moment, then let out a sigh and nodded. You hesitated. “Do you, uh, wanna hit up a bar or something? I mean, I’m not exactly living the most exciting life out here…”

“You got a TV and some beers?” he asked, catching you off guard. You blinked a few times before nodding. “Sweet. That’s all I need today. We could watch a movie or something, maybe order in.”

“I can cook,” you chimed in. “I’ve got a wood-burning oven outside... we could make homemade pizza.”

The way he looked at you, it was like you’d just revealed you had the keys to Heaven itself.

You finally figured out what was up much later in the night, while you and Dean were sprawled out in your queen bed.

At first, he had tried to be a gentleman and insisted on crashing on the couch, but you wouldn’t have it — the bed was more than big enough for both of you. No point in him getting a stiff neck just because he wanted to play nice. Sure, you were practical, but you also just wanted him to be comfortable. You could sense something was off with him, even if he kept saying he was fine.

So there you were, cozy and ready to sleep, lights out and moonlight streaming through the curtains, lying on your side and facing the wall as you listened to his deep breathing. You were almost drifting off yourself when he said it.

“I made a deal.”

You opened your eyes right away, twisting in bed to find his face just inches from yours. Your heart raced at the vulnerability in his gaze — the angst he’d tried to keep hidden was now clear as day. It made your heart sink and your breath hitch a little.

“What?” you asked, concern creeping into your voice. Dean closed his eyes for a second, letting out a small sigh.

“Sam died, sweetheart,” he whispered, and your heart clenched at his words. Why did he have to call you that right now? “And I made a deal to bring him back. I had to.”

“This isn’t funny,” you said, your voice trembling. “Dean, you can’t be serious.”

“I’m serious,” he replied, his tone firm. “I wouldn’t lie. Not about this.”

You didn’t answer, just buried your face in your hands, struggling to catch your breath as tears started to well up in your eyes. The reaction shocked you — why did you care about him so much? How could you be terrified of losing him when you were just… what? Occasional hunting partners? Friends?

But he was right there with you, wasn’t he?

Was this why he had come to you?

“I wanted to tell you myself,” he said softly, as if he could read your mind. “I… I wanted to see you. One last time, at least.”

One last time. His words bounced around in your head, and you lowered your hands to face him, confusion scrunching your brow. That didn’t make sense. Demons usually gave you ten years after a deal, so why…?

“Dean,” you said slowly. “How long… how long did they give you?”

“A year,” he whispered, so quietly you almost missed it. “They gave me a year.”

“No,” you said, covering your mouth with one hand as the sobs started to spill out. “Oh, no, Dean, no, no, no…”

He pulled you close, wrapping you tight against his chest as you cried, your arms instinctively clinging to him. Incoherent words tumbled out — trying to apologize for crying, for feeling like a hole had been carved out of your chest. It didn’t feel right — you weren’t the one who was supposed to be feeling this way.

Because you weren’t the one dying.

You cried yourself to sleep in his arms that night. As your sobs faded into tired breaths and your eyes finally closed, Dean felt a sharp ache in his chest while watching your swollen eyes and damp cheeks.

He couldn’t deal with the whirlwind of feelings churning inside him right now. He couldn’t face the regret, the fear, not even that nameless feeling he had for you — because he was too scared to name it, to even acknowledge it was real. All he knew was that he had lied; Bobby hadn’t sent him to you. Things weren’t fine, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise.

He had come to you of his own choice.

Because when his world was crumbling, he knew you were the only one who could help him pick up the pieces.

Even when everything felt hopeless.

Even when he felt completely lost.

[azmstea]

[COSMO - RARE TWISTED]

Okey, I KNOW some people already made this idea (found out while I was working on this), but I really wanted to make my version of it so let's go!!

Well, I decided to rework a bit Twisted Cosmo because I personally never understood why he is a common one to begin with. And also explain how his ability would work!

This will be a PRETTY long blog with a lot of yapping, so if you're actually interested in the "AU", keep reading!!

ASKS ABOUT HIM ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED!!

Alright, let's start by explaining a bit about him.

"He believes he's helping others, but his healing method doesn't work like before. This twisted, separated from his best friend, walks around looking for people to heal with hearts that block any healing items and causing random effects for a few seconds. Be sure to never be spotted without full health!" - Research description.

During a blackout, Cosmo got lost and was forced to separate from his best friend Sprout and had only one heart left by the end of the process. When arriving at the elevator, he noticed Sprout having a hard time with a twisted, and he also had one heart. Knowing that his stamina was low at the moment, Cosmo does something he never did before: He used all his strength to remove his last heart and give it to Sprout, saving him from a fatal attack. Sprout made it to the elevator, but Cosmo couldn't say the same. (I want my Fruitcake angst y'all, or else I'll cook it)

We aren't sure how exactly toons became Twisteds, but for the sake of this "AU", Dandy decided to use Cosmo as a way to test something new: An ichor heart in a non main character toon. This heart made Cosmo stop from dying, but it causes him A LOT of pain, since his chest is opened and the ichor causes physical pain. He still has some conscience inside of him, but the ichor stops him from acting like how he used to and makes it more difficult to talk. His body and head are full of bites, like the twisted that was haunting Sprout tried to eat him before. His arm is way bigger and heavier than before, but he doesn't mind much because he is pretty strong around his arms, but it surely brings some extra pain for his right side.

Deep down, he just wants to help other toons, but he can't realize how he isn't capable of doing it in a positive way anymore thanks to the ichor.

Yes, I know, only main characters have sounds to show that they're nearby, but I want to add that if Cosmo is extremely close of you (in the same room or in the next room), you're capable of hearing his ichor heart beats, which are fast and loud. Like this, players can escape from him in case they are in a dangerous situation.

ABILITY:

(I saw a video called "swap au" on YouTube and took a bit of inspiration from it, but I changed it to make it a little more interesting!)

Twisted Cosmo's ability is inspired in his Toon's active: Heal others, but with a reverse effect.

If you have all your hearts, Cosmo won't follow you or harm you, he will keep walking because he doesn't want to hurt anyone (something like Glisten) and because he knows you won't need any heals. At first, it's like he won't even do anything at all.

However, if he sees you with 2 hearts or only 1 heart, he will grab his ichor heart from his chest and start chasing you, with the intention of throwing a heart at you and "help". His attention spam is a little longer (3.5 s) and his speed increases from his canon twisted form, but his eye vision isn't the best since he doesn't have one of his eyes, so he can't see you from extreme distances like Shrimpo.

If he catches you, your empty heart slots will be filled with a weird "ichor heart", similar to main characters. As his description says, the heart will block any kind of healing, so things like Teagan's active, medkits and bandaids won't work at all. Along with that, you'll get a random effect for 10 seconds from the I category (like "Confused I", "Slow I", "Tired I"). After the attack, Cosmo will no longer follow you because he thinks he finished his job there. (Distractors you're all screwed🔥)

And plus, you can avoid his attack if you heal yourself BEFORE he can heal you.

Another ability of his is being able to know when and where a player got hurt. Let's say you have 3 hearts, but you got a hit from Shelly in "x" spot. In this scenario, Cosmo will immediately go to "x" spot no matter how far he is from the place. If you manage to leave where you were before he arrives, good! If not, Cosmo will chase you to give you an ichor heart. Sounds "inoffensive" at first, but depending of the situation, it can make your life pure hell.

If you have 1 regular heart and 2 ichor hearts, Cosmo will no longer care about you during that floor because it's impossible to get another hit without dying, leaving you in a vulnerable situation for any complicated twisteds like Pebble or Goob. That's why I like to call him the very first twisted that won't kill you directly! I wanted to play with the fact that he's a supporter as a toon, so why not make a "supporter" twisted whose job is make your gameplay harder?? Maybe a new type of twisted?

"Will Cosmo also follow you if all machines are done like Glisten?" I'm still unsure of it, but to keep his "support" role, I suppose he would just accept his fate of being alone, because at least he can "help" others. (I WANT FRUITCAKE ANGST!!!)

How do you remove the ichor hearts? Again, still thinking about it, but just like Shelly's "Confused" ability, the effect should be gone once you reach the elevator. I thought about leaving the effect for 2 floors, but I dunno if this would be too OP or anything, so you can decide on this!

Now congratulations! You know who is twisted Cosmo and how to survive to one of the most annoying Twisteds ever!! /jk

I suppose that's all for now about him! He's still in development, but this is the main idea of him and his abilities!

And don't worry, I will be sure to cook some good old angst with this concept. Hope everyone enjoys it!!

ASKS ABOUT HIM ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED!!

[chrissturnsfav]

𝒸𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓃 𝓊𝓅 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒶𝒸𝓉 | 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘰

you and chris have had a pretty toxic on and off relationship for about 3 months now. when you go to a party with the triplets and a few other friends, you decide to try to make chris jealous—only because he just loves to fuck other girls and rub it in your face—but he fixes up your act real quick.

ᰔᩚ bf!chris, toxic!chris, rough!chris, use of alcohol, sub!reader, dom!chris, smut, unprotected p in v, hair-pulling, dacryphilia (kinda?), degrading, pet names, ass slapping, slight angst, use of y/n

ᰔᩚ w.c. 2,667

the mansion is booming with house music. sweaty bodies in the full house shift past each other and the stench of alcohol along with a hint of weed is hanging in the air.

you got to the party about a half hour ago and chris was already pissing you off. he wasn't paying attention to you at all, just giving in to the countless girls that were up his ass.

you knew he did it on purpose—he does this every time you guys go out together—but it still made your blood boil every time.

you are stood in the kitchen, a red solo cup filled with vodka and cranberry juice held up to your lips as you pretend to listen to your best friend—brooke—babble on about drama.

"y/n, are you even listening?" brooke groans after taking a long swig from her own cup.

you sigh, shaking your head, "i'm sorry brooke, i just fucking can't with chris."

brooke rolls her eyes, not wanting to hear about chris again since it was all you talked about. you were always telling her and the other girls about a new argument every single day. "what did he do now?" she asks blankly.

you point towards the living room—which was an open floor to the kitchen—giving you and brooke a perfect view of the people in there. your finger points at chris who is sat on the couch, some girl sat on his lap twirling her hair around her finger with a flirty smile to which chris returned.

brooke's lips part and she scoffs, shaking her head and taking another sip from her cup, "i can't believe you allow this kid to do this to you."

you sigh, nodding, "i know..." you let out. you knew this isn't the way a good boyfriend treats his girlfriend, but you just couldn't leave him.

"y'know, if i were you, i'd grab a random guy and start dancing with him or something," brooke says with a cheeky giggle.

you turn your head to brooke, looking at her as if she's crazy, "brooke, he'd murder me. i can't even look at another guy without him saying something..."

brooke laughs sarcastically, "fuck that, he does it to you, i'd do it right back. c'mon, let's find you a sexy man," she says, grabbing your arm tightly.

you squirm, unsure about her idea, "brooke, i really don't think—"

"bitch, let's go," she cuts you off, pulling you through the crowd of people in the kitchen to the foyer while you groan the whole way there.

brooke is gazing around the room looking for an option, when she sees nick. "nick!" she calls out.

nick turns his head from the group of people he's talking to. he flashes a smile when he sees you two, muttering a word to the people before walking over. "hey guys."

brooke smiles at him, "we need to find y/n someone to dance with to make chris jealous, have you seen any options?"

nick laughs loudly, "why, what is he doing?"

you explain the scene in the living room to nick and he rolls his eyes, groaning. "i always tell him he needs to start treating you good, but the player in him just won't fucking die."

you nod, rolling your eyes, "i don't think it ever will," you say, taking a swig of your drink.

"okay, anyways, any potential men for her, nick?" brooke cuts in.

nick nods and looks around the room, "i saw a really hot guy a few minutes ago, let me see where he is..." he says as he continues to look around.

nick gasps, pointing to a tall young man with black hair, a tattoo up his arm, dressed in a black t-shirt, black jeans, and lots of silver jewelry, "THERE!" he yells out loud, causing you and brooke to laugh loudly.

"nick! you can't just scream 'there' and then point at someone!" you pull nick's finger away as he uses his other hand to cover his mouth while laughing.

brooke—laughing as well—nods at the man, "he's perfect, y/n go do something, please. you need this."

you feel your heart beating faster and you sigh, taking a long swig of your drink, "i'm gonna need to take a few shots first..."

nick and brooke smile in unison, cheering, "oh, i'm so down," brooke says with excitement, nick agreeing.

you, brooke, and nick have taken about 3 shots together. by now, you're definitely feeling the alcohol and you truly want to go through with this plan.

you see chris in the living room again, but now he's in the crowd of people dancing. he's dancing with a different girl from before. she has her back against his chest—his arms rest on her hips and a red solo cup is in his hand as they sway to the beat. the girl has her arm reached around to play with chris' hair as he whispers god knows what in her ear.

seeing this is making you want to literally stomp over there and beat the girl's face in, but you remember the plan brooke thought up, not wanting to ruin it and ultimately choosing this is a much better idea.

nick and brooke stand a few feet away from the young man you had picked out from the crowd, watching you confidently strut towards him.

you run your fingers through your hair, lips parted. the young man—who is standing in a group of people in the living room—notices you walk past their group. when you both make eye contact as you pass him, you give him a flirty smirk before walking in a made up direction.

before you know it, you feel a tap on your shoulder and you smirk in victory. you turn around to see the gorgeous man you had chosen as your victim.

he stares down at you intently, a smirk plastered on his face as he takes a sip from his cup. "what's your name?"

you smirk back at him, "why?" you slur suggestively.

he chuckles, "fuck that, you wanna dance?" he asks confidently.

you purse your lips flirtatiously, not at all surprised by his cockiness and you nod with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

he licks his lips, nodding and taking your hand softly to lead you to the makeshift dance floor.

luckily, he picks a spot only a few feet away from where chris is dancing with the random whore.

you place your back against the man’s chest, his hands finding your waist as you lean your head to the side below his neck. you can feel his breath on your ear as you sway your hips against him to the beat.

it was only a matter of time before chris noticed, and you couldn't stop sneaking glances at him across the dance floor.

at your third glance, chris makes eye contact with you. you watch his jaw immediately clench and jealousy fills his eyes.

you smirk at him sassily from across the room, turning your body away and the man you're dancing with turns your bodies. you embrace the man, his hands resting lowly on your hips and you stare at chris with cocky eyes over his shoulder.

you watch chris roll his tongue on the inside of his cheek and a scary smirk plays on his lips. suddenly, his hands on the girl's hips fall. she looks confused, calling out to him, but chris ignores her and storms over to you and the man you're dancing with.

when you turn your head to see chris standing beside the both of you, fists clenched together and an insanely jealous expression, you can't help but chuckle a little. "can i help you?"

your voice catches the man by surprise, turning his head to see chris and he furrows his brows in confusion.

chris chuckles at your question, slightly scaring you. his eyes dart from the man to you, and you can't help but worry about what he's about to do.

chris scoffs, ultimately deciding to just possessively grab you by the arm and off the man's body—his eyes never leaving his. you shriek, caught off guard by his actions and spilling some of your drink on the white dress you wore, "chris, what the fuck?!" you groan, immediately patting down your dress with your hands.

chris glances at the mess on the material that hugged your body before looking at the man in front of him who seems very confused as he opens his mouth to speak, "what the hell, man?"

chris just chuckles in response, "touch her again and i'll kill ya," he slurs slightly, anger in his voice. the man just looks at chris dumbfounded and he doesn't even get the chance to respond because chris is now pulling you out of the living room by your arm down a hallway.

"chris! get the fuck off me!" you continuously shout, but chris ignores you and instead pulls you both into an empty bathroom, locking the door.

you stare down at your dress, wiping the stains with your hands but it doesn't seem to do anything.

chris leans against the sink, crossing his arms as he stares you up and down, licking his lips, "you think that shit's funny?"

you look up at him when he speaks, furrowing your brows in disbelief. "chris, i'm not doing this with you."

chris laughs, shaking his head and walking towards you until your back hits the door. he places his hands on the door on either side of your head, leaning his forehead centimeters away from your face. you feel your breath hitch in your throat as his minty breath breezes against your face.

"hm? think it's funny to fuck around like that and be a little whore?" he asks in a voice almost a whisper.

you swallow hard, but try to remain confident, "don't even chris, you love to have whores all over you and never talk to me when we go out, but when i even speak to another man it's a problem."

chris smirks manically, rolling his tongue across his bottom row of teeth, "i dunno where this whole acts comin' from, mama, but it's pissin' me off."

you roll your eyes and stare at him, "what are you gonna do about it?" you slur drunkenly.

chris' smirk only grows and his eyes dart from your lips to your eyes, "gonna fix it for ya," he says wickedly. you feel your heart go to your toes, already feeling yourself getting wet at his words.

chris wastes no time in smashing his lips against yours, his hands possessively moving to your hips, slamming you against the door and you moan softly in response. he takes this as an opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth dominantly.

you give in, kissing him back as his tongue soon wins the fight for dominance and he smirks against your lips before pulling away. he turns your body around, bending you over the sink and biting his lip as he stares at you in the mirror.

you stare at him with lust, your swollen lips parted and eyes full of desire to which he chuckles at, licking his lips, "this what you need, hm?" he asks, pulling your dress over your hips as his pants tighten at the sight of your round ass.

you swallow, nodding hesitantly in response. chris laughs wickedly as he unzips his jeans, pulling your thong to the side, "yeah? need your attitude fucked out of ya?"

you watch him in the mirror, blinking slowly in response and he slaps your ass when you don't respond, making you flinch.

he leans his body over yours, his mouth inches from your ear, "say it ma, need to hear ya say it."

you whimper quietly, sighing, "need...need your dick, chris," you slur.

chris nods, smirking in response, "good, cause if you wanna act like a fuckin' whore, i'm gonna treat you like one."

chris leans his body back, pulling his jeans and boxers down just enough to pull his swelled cock out. he wastes no time slamming into you hard, and you gasp loudly at this while he grunts deeply.

chris picks up a fast, hard pace within seconds. you pant, moaning and crying out loudly. your brows are knit together, mouth hanging open, and hands gripping the counter until your knuckles turn white at the overwhelming pleasure.

chris is grunting from behind you, the occasional chuckle leaving his mouth, "yeaaah, fuckin' take it you slut," he growls, slapping your ass as his other hand pulls your hips against him in a rhythm with his own.

your head falls against the counter as you moan loudly, but chris chuckles deeply, yanking your head up by your hair tightly, "nah, gotta watch yourself get fucked like the little slut you are, ma," he tuts. you whine in response, forcing your eyes to stay open as you watch yourself fall apart in the mirror.

you feel tears stinging your eyes as chris pounds impossibly harder into your aching heat as you cry out in overstimulation, "chris!"

chris laughs at you, only gripping your hips with his one hand tighter, "so pretty when you're cryin' f'me."

a tear streams down your face as you feel the familiar knot in your stomach forming and you yelp loudly, "i-i....i'm...g-gonna..."

chris bites his bottom lip and smirks evilly at you through the mirror, "uh-uh. you're gonna hold it f'me, think you can just dance on some random guy?" he chuckles dryly, "fuck atta here w'that shit."

you shriek in overstimulation, your mascara smudging beneath your eyes as your legs quiver, "i-i...chris! i can't!"

chris leans his over your body, slapping your ass as you feel him panting against your ear, "yeah? beg for it then."

you pant breathlessly, your vision blurry from the pleasure and tears, "p-please...please—fuck—chris....i need to cum!"

"tell me how sorry ya are, mama," chris says through grunts.

"i...’m sorry...’m sorry...please..." you beg desperately. chris chuckles at your pathetic tone, leaning away from your ear and snapping his hips harder, "fuckin' pussy so tight...all mine, right, ma? who's fuckin' pussy is this, hm?" he groans.

you whine loudly, feeling your whole body go sore as you give everything you can to not let go right now, "y-y....yours! i-it's all yours, chris! fuck, please...please i gotta cum!"

chris licks his lips through a mischievous smirk, nodding, "yeah, thas right...all mine."

you feel your orgasm uncontrollably about to burst and you cry loudly, "chris! please—shiiit—please!"

chris nods, pleased with your begging as he lets out deep, short breaths as his own orgasm approaches, "yeah, bein' so good, takin’ it so well...cum for me ma, cum all over this cock."

your body immediately lets go, your cum coating chris' dick and he moans in response to the sight of you. you moan loudly, legs uncontrollably shaking as your eyes pinch shut.

"mmm...fuuuck, ma...gonna cum...i'm cummin' for you..." he groans, his thrusts getting sloppier as he helps you come down from your high, watching you in the mirror.

"fuck," chris moans, pulling out and sprawling out his load on your ass. his eyes roll back at the pleasure, groaning.

he looks at you through the mirror and chuckles at your state. your hair is all messed up, lashes sticky, mascara run down your face.

after he cleans you up, he pulls your panties back on you properly and pulls your dress back down, snaking an arm around your waist to stand you up straight.

as you look at yourself in the mirror—still trying to catch your breath—chris pulls his boxers and jeans on while glancing at you, "fix y'self, jesus, look like you just got fucked stupid," he jokes and you roll your eyes, raking your fingers through your hair.

chris rests his hands on the counter, leaning forward while he looks at you in the mirror.

"cleaned up your act, real quick, didn't i? told you i would."

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: i actually really like this but it's a LITTLE graphic and rough but like i love rough LMAO. also this is not good but i low-key love toxic men...

thank you for reading!! <3

@chrissturnsfav ™

[technoarcanist]

WAR NEVER CHANGES. BUT,

WARFARE NEVER STOPS CHANGING

"I've seen countless reasons why most mech pilots don't make the cut, but one of the largest hurdles are the physical alterations. The implants and modifications done to the fleshware is so extreme that it's enough to push most would-be pilots away from day 1.

Back in the day, when mech tech was still in its wild west years, when the technology was still in its infancy, things were different. Levers, joysticks, switches, a chair, most of the first models were something between the cockpit of a construction vehicle and a fighter ship.

Pilots in those days still consisted largely of the usual suspects. Test pilots, army jocks, space force veterans looking for something new, the occasional crazy who lucked their way up the ranks. All you needed back then was to be fit enough to work complex machinery. 'Handler's wouldn't be a coined phrase for nearly a decade. I still remember being a kid and seeing repurposed older models in the mech fighting streams.

Everything changed with the Bidirectional Cerebellum Computer Interface. To say nothing of how it changed civilian life, it was a military marvel. The BiCCI saw the creation of Mechs as we understand them today. The first generation were just retrofits, older models with a pilot's chair, and even manual controls to use in an emergency, but even then we knew that was only temporary. Before long, sleek frames of sharp angles, railguns and plasma cannons were rolling off the factory floor.

Like many things, it began small, optimising first for cockpit space by removing the manual controls. Before long, my then-supervisors thought, "Why have this glass? Why not hook the pilot's eyesight right into the advanced multi-spectral camera system? Before long, cockpits were but soft harnesses made to house a living body, their very soul wired into the machinery. Obviously, for security reasons, I cannot tell you everything about how our latest cockpits work, but suffice to say we've been further blurring the line between pilot and frame ever since.

This drew a very different crowd. Out were the army jocks and powerlifters. The only ones who even dared to have the interface hardware installed into their brainstem and spinal cord were the dispossessed, the misanthropes, those who sought not to control their new body, but to be controlled by it. No AI can work a mech properly on its own, but our pilots are never really in full control either anymore. Those who do try to go against the symbiosis get a nosebleed at best, and vegetative seizures at worst.

And that was that. The only people left who pilots these things are those who had already been broken, those who sougt a permenant reprive from being anything resembling human. A lot of my department quit around this time. I've lost a few friends over it, I'm not shy to say. Did we knew we'd be bringing in the more vulnerable people? Of course we did. But, the wheels of progress must turn, as they say, and it wasn't like we were shy of volunteers.

In our latest models, we have refined an even more advanced frame. Again, security detail prevents me from divulging too much, but one breakthrough we've made is decreasing action latency by approximately 0.02s by amputating the limbs from our pilots and replacing them with neural interface pads.

Using the pads where the limbs once were, pilots are screwed directly into the cockpit, which itself can now be 30% smaller thanks to the saved space. And, of course, we provide basic humanoid cybernetics as part of their employment contract while they are with us. Not that most of them are ever voluntarily out of their cockpits long enough to make use of them. Even removing the tubes from their orifices for routine cleaning incurs a large level of resistence.

And, yes, some of them scream, some of them break, some become so catatonic that they might as well be a peripheral processor for their mech's AI. But not a single one, not even one pilot, in all the dolls i've ever trained, have ever accepted the holidays we offer, the retirement packages, the stipends.

As you say, there are those who like to call me a monster for my work. I can see why. After all, they don't see the way my pilots' crotches dribble when I tell them I'll be cutting away their limbs, or the little moans they try to hide when we first meet and I explain that they'd forever be on the same resource level as a machine hereafter.

Those who call me a monster don't realise that, even after going public with how we operate our pilots, even after ramping up mech frame production, we still have more than twice as many volunteers as frames.

Those who call me a monster cannot accept that my pilots are far happier as a piece of meat in a machine of death than as the shell of a human they once were.

Those who call me a monster never consider the world my pilots grew up in to make them suitable candidates in the first place."

-Dr Francine Heathwich EngD

Dept. Cybernetic Technologies @ Dynaframe Industries

[In response to human rights violations accusations levied by the Pilot Rehabilitation Foundation]

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of the Heart (Chapter 16) Human!Alastor x Married!Reader

Chapter Trigger Warnings: infidelity

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers!

Prev Masterlist AO3 KoFi

Alastor led you by your hand confidently through a sea of boxes and dim lights, the music growing louder as you went. Your eyes were trained on him, watching the halo of light reflect off his hair as he passed underneath light after light. If you had spared a moment to look around, you wouldn’t have seen much in the deep shadows. 

Voices and chatter joined the warm horns and strings, growing louder with each step you took. Alastor was eagerly pulling you along toward the sounds brought life to the space deeper in the building. At last, your eager partner stopped in front of a door. Just beyond it was a sea of noise. 

Your heart pounded at the prospect of people, all local to you, and out for a night on the town hidden in a watering hole. Each and every one of those people could very well could know you. 

They could know your husband. They could tell. 

Alastor had asked that you trust him. 

It took everything in you to fight against every part of your body that wanted you to cringe away in fear as he reached out for the door. Long fingers wrapped around the knob as his hand around yours gave a reassuring squeeze. 

“It’s alright,” He spoke softly, as if trying not to scare a frightened prey animal.

A heartbeat passed and then the knob was turning with an ever so slight squeak. The door opened easily and Alastor pulled you through. 

You stood at his side, faced with a room that was nothing like what you had expected. The noise was louder now, and it sounded like you should be standing on the outskirts of the party. Instead, you were in a room. No, that wasn’t exactly right, you realized as you looked around. 

Boxes towered along the wall, in places stacked many high. The floor wasn’t nearly as well kept as you expected. Wax and polish extended only a few short feet into this small room, giving way to much more rustic and worn floors. Off to the side, a small table sat with a candle and glasses, waiting for the guests of the evening. 

With a start, you realized it was like a cubby off the main lounge that was hidden away by a curtain. Private and yet as close to a part of the party as you could ever hope to be while with Alastor.

The band’s music was clear, passing through the curtain with ease, along with the buzz of people, but you couldn’t see anyone. They couldn’t see you. Light filtered in from above and below the curtain, supplementing the naked overhead light, casting shadows about the room along with the warm light.

Alastor pulled you deeper into the room, closer to the table that recaptured your attention. A simple white table cloth was spread over the surface and atop it sat a vase with a red candle inside, flame flickering ever so softly. Glasses sat on the table with a tray of fruits, cheeses, spreads, crackers, and small bits of bread on it. 

There was a short woman who looked familiar next to the table, adding slices of smoked meat to the tray. Upon registering her and her sparkling dress, you darted your eyes to Alastor. You wanted to step closer to him, to seek shelter in him from this stranger but that would only make it look more like what you feared was going on. Instead, you stepped behind him, hoping to at least not be recognized. 

“About time you two get here,” the woman said, turning and putting her hands on her hips. 

Alastor knew the woman, you realized as his arm wrapped around your waist, far more familiar of a touch than what one would expect from a simple friend. His arm prevented any real attempts to hide, leaving you with little choice but to look to him for guidance. 

Alastor rolled his eyes at the woman, but the fondness in his face as he looked at her told you his show was more show than fact. He introduced you to the woman standing at the table, not bothering to drop his hand from your waist while he did so. “And this is my dear friend, Mimzy, the proprietress of this lovely establishment.” 

“Lovely to meet you,” you said as the woman looked between you and Alastor, her blonde eyebrow quirked high. Her face moved through emotions quickly, as if she was trying to piece together a puzzle in her head. 

“Mimzy was kind enough to loan us use of a private room so we could get out on the town without worrying about pesky eyes and their flapping tongues.” Alastor offered, hand finally dropping from your waist and giving you a short-lived moment to breathe before he took your hand in his again. 

“Well,” Mimzy said, clearing her throat. “I’ll leave you two to it.” Mimzy looked hard at where your hand joined his, raised her eyebrow somehow higher still. She said nothing about what she was seeing. Instead, she simply turned, shaking her head before giving Alastor one last look over her shoulder. “You owe me, Al- I got other shit to do then setting up your little night out.” 

“If I remember correctly,” Alastor’s smile was wide, eyes seeming to sparkle as you stood, taking in the sight of Alastor with a friend. She was a female friend, a rarity for men to have. It was surreal seeing how he was with friends, a side of him you had never seen, being that you and he had built this friendship- yes, it was just friendship, you told yourself, in secret. “I cleared out the room while you sat on the counter painting your nails.” 

It hurt. You didn’t know why it hurt, but it did. There was no reason for you to believe he was alone with her, but your heart hurt like there was. Was what you and Alastor were doing really nothing special? 

Perhaps he held Mimzy’s hand in his the same way he was holding yours? Was it all in your head? Maybe it was all alright? Maybe this was just how Alastor was, crossing social boundaries without a care for the wreckage he could leave in his path?

Was this what jealousy felt like? 

“Now missy,” Mimzy spared you a look from where she stood, hand on the curtain. “If this ol boy gives you any trouble, you come to Mimzy and I’ll straighten him right out. I don’t give a hoot what your situation is, that man right there better treat you right.” 

Perhaps what you had with Alastor was different?

She didn’t give you a chance to say anything, not that you knew what you’d say to her, before she stepped into the busy lounge with a flutter of the curtain. 

“My apologizes for her,” Alastor said, tugging you toward the table. “She’s always had a flair for dramatics.” 

“Oh, so women are dramatic now?” You teased, trying to get your bearings as Alastor stood behind a chair. He scooted it out and motioned for you to sit. 

“Oh, not women-” Alastor laughed as you settled into the seat. He continued speaking as he scooted you up to the table. “Just that one.” 

Only once he had you settled at the table did he take his own seat. Candle light danced over his face, warming his smile even more. It felt right, sitting here with him as he poured glasses of wine. Though you tried to relax, you couldn’t help the way your eyes scanned the curtain, looking for some rip that would reveal you to those on the other side. 

“You can relax,” Alastor’s soft smile captured your attention. “There are no tables near the curtain and the dancefloor isn’t near it either. The most someone ever does is brush it with their shoulder.” 

“Okay,” you tried to force yourself to do as he said. It wasn’t easy but as Alastor kept your attention on him, drawing you into a conversation about his work, your days and each of your childhood, you found you relaxed. 

Time passed easily, floating away on a sea of warm conversation and wine shared between the two of you, the first glass being replaced with a second. You felt good, really good, for perhaps the first time in your life. Alastor was a kind soul, and you marveled as he held his hand out for you, asking you to dance. He had never been harsh with you, never raising his voice or his hand to you. 

“Shall we dance?” Alastor asked, raising from his chair and holding his hand out to you as he reached your side. 

“I’m not terribly good,” you tried to wave off the idea. It wasn’t appropriate to dance with a man that wasn’t your husband when your husband wasn’t even present to supervise it. Did that matter, though? As you thought about it for a moment, you decided it didn’t. You were already crossing so many of society’s boundaries in your time with Alastor.

“I’m sure you’re more than adequate,” Alastor challenged as you surrendered your hand to his. A soft tug had you rising from your chair and stepping into the open space. There were marks all along the floor from where crates had sat for long periods of time. Your heart warmed, remembering how Alastor had moved things about the space, making it safe for your time with him. 

You tripped over your feet as Alastor pulled you around the floor, quick steps and eager encouragement driving away any shame that attempted to set up camp in your mind. The wine had you smiling, laughing lightly as you all but fell into Alastor’s arms as your legs tangled together. He caught you easily, finding his own joy in your clumsy steps and glee. 

Though he said he was only alright himself, it took only a few short minutes for you to realize he was far better than just alright. He skillfully moved you through space, leading you through dances you could only somewhat perform and compensating for your lack of grace or elegance with his own moves. 

Every time he placed his hands on you, he was mindful of your still aching ribs. You’d be sore later. Healing injuries would surely be aggravated but the joy of dancing with him was worth every flair of discomfort and twinge of pain in the moment. 

After a few glasses of wine, you struggled to care at all as you tripped over your own feet, laughter spilling freely from your lips as he held you upright, spinning you around and lifting you into the air. Your heart pounded in your chest from all the activity, but you were having the time of your life. Your healing ribs were little more than an annoyance, dulled by the wine shared between you.

“Another glass, darling?” Alastor asked as the music lulled between songs. 

“Please?” You answered before thinking twice, “If that’s alright, I mean.” 

“I’d not offer if it wasn’t,” Alastor said, as he split the last of the wine between the two glasses. 

“Hey, Baby!” a voice you knew shouted over the music, causing your glass to begin to slip from your fingers. Reality and pain came crashing down around you. The shock of hearing his voice in your safe little bubble felt like a blow directly to your still healing ribs. The illusion of warmth and reckless love shattered into a million little shards, leaving you once again standing in a dusty side room of a speakeasy. 

“Laurence?” You whisper as Alastor took the glass from your trembling hands before you had a chance to drop it. The sound of shattering glass and running wine surely could give away their hiding place, though he was certain it wouldn’t be noticed over the sound of the band. 

“Laurence, Doll!” Mimzy’s voice was high, carrying through the space. “I wasn’t expectin ya tonight.” 

Alastor’s hands came to rest on your arms as you looked wide eyed at the curtain, breath locked in your chest. 

“I finished early, thought I’d bring you this weekend’s rum a bit early since I was going to be stopping by, anyway.” Laurence’s voice got closer the more he talked. You needed to run, you needed to get out of here, but your feet felt cemented in place. 

“He said he’d be out of town until tomorrow,” you whisper, tears gathering in your eyes as you rip your eyes from the curtain to Alastor. He ran his hands up and down your arms, trying to keep your attention on him as your eyes flickered from him to the curtain and back. “We need to leave. I need to leave-” 

“Breathe.” Alastor whispered, trying to keep your attention on him. It wouldn’t do for you to run off, cause a scene. 

“Want the crates in the side room like usual?” Laurence was right on the other side of the curtain now. You could see his feet, just beyond the fall of the cloth. 

“There’s a cubby just under those boards,” Mimzy’s voice was close now too. You could see her feet near Laurence’s. 

“Alastor, what’s going on?” You whispered, stepping away from him as best you could as he maintained contact with you. 

“Shh,” Alastor ran his hands up your arms and cupped your cheek in both his as he stepped forward, closing the growing distance between the two of you, “I’ve got you. Mimzy’s got you. Trust us.” 

You nod, but he waits. 

“Okay,” you whisper finally, nodding again. 

Alastor leads you deeper into the room, blowing out the candle as he passes by. Each step was slow, careful and slightly shuffled to avoid his shoes clicking against the wooden floor. You mimicked him, walking on your toes to keep the heels of your shoes from clicking with your steps.

“Step up,” he held your hands in his as you climbed up on the stack of boxes, keeping you steady.

“Larry!” A woman’s shoes joined the pairs in front of the curtain. “All work and no play will make you a dull boy indeed.” 

Who was that? You glanced at the curtain, trying to look through the fabric that kept you out of sight but also prevented you from being able to see what happened beyond it. 

“Don’t worry, Love,” Laurence said as you watched his hands dipping in and out of view as he put bottles in under floorboards. If he leaned any more into the hole, would he be able to see you? “Just gotta unload this, and then I’m all yours all night long.” 

Wide eyes watched what little you could see under the curtain as you stood, hands clasped against your mouth to ensure your breathing was quiet enough, as if there was a risk of Laurence hearing it. 

The world felt like it spun around you. Until Alastor’s arm wrapped around your shoulders, you hadn’t realized you were swaying on your feet. It was his secure hold on you that kept you safe from the risk of falling to the ground. 

“You’re okay,” He whispered into the side of your head as he pulled you closer to his side. “I’ve got you.” 

“What’s going on?” You turned into him, seeking comfort from the only friend you had. You knew better, but with the fear and the wine, your body acted regardless of that fact. You let him hold you as you looked up at his eyes, realizing only then that he had at some point flipped the switch off, sending the little enclave into darkness lit only by the light filtering in from around the curtain. 

“Do you really want to know?” Alastor asked softly as Mimzy bantered with Laurence and the woman outside the curtain. You nodded, hands balling against his chest as you held onto his vest for some sort of stability. If it was physical or mental stability, you were seeking from him, you didn’t know. 

“Laurence runs hootch for Mimzy’s supplier. He got busted a few weeks ago and lost a load. That’s why he needed the loan- he had to cover the losses for his boss.” 

“Are you involved in it, too?” You whispered, looking up at him from the shelter you had taken in his arms. 

“Not typically.” Alastor shrugged. “I brew some, mostly as a hobby. I avoid running hootch unless Mimzy needs a favor. If I got caught, I’d get a lot more than a fine.” 

“Larry, Baby, ain’t you going to pay attention to me?” The woman’s voice was high and pouty. You should have felt some sort of way about some other woman calling your husband “Larry” and “baby” but more than anything you were confused. 

He hated to be called Larry. He hated pet names altogether. He was supposed to be out of town. 

“Don’t worry baby,” Laurence stood after replacing the boards, “I don’t gotta be home till tomorrow night.” 

“Oh, yeah?” The woman giggled.

“I’ll give you so much attention you’ll be screaming my name.” Laurence’s feet moved closer to the woman’s. Was he holding her, brazenly, out in the public as if he wasn’t a married man? “All. Night. Long.” 

You were a fool. He was making you his fool. You had done your wifely duties. He had use of your body. You made him meals, washed his clothes. You loved him, or at least, you thought you did. What did he give you in return? Not even loyalty to the vow you had made together before God and your families?

“I’m sorry,” Alastor whispered, watching the emotions play across your face. You did not love your husband, he knew that, but that did nothing to prevent the knife of betrayal from sinking into your heart. “It appears your husband is having an affair.” 

“It’s not fair,” you whispered as Laurence’s feet danced with the woman’s feet outside the curtain, steps taking their bodies closer than you had allowed Alastor to pull you until this moment. 

“What isn’t?” Alastor asked, one hand resting on the small of your back and the other up between your shoulders. He held you close, but not against him. Even now, he kept a few inches of space between your bodies. 

“That he can just have an affair out in the open and what? Nothing happens to him? If anyone notices, they’ll blame me for it. But…” 

“But?” Alastor’s heart beat faster in his chest. Why? He wasn’t sure. The rush he had only experienced when closing in on a hurt coursed through his veins as he looked down at you, studying every move you made. 

That must have been it. This game he was playing with you was just another hunt, was it not? He was closing in on his prey. That was it. That had to be it. 

Your hands moved against his chest as you slipped your ring free from your finger, wrapping the simple jeweled band in your hand. “If I’m found to be having an affair, no matter how discrete I keep it, I’m demonized just the same.”

“We live in a world of double standards,” Alastor murmured. “It’s a good thing you’re not having an affair.” 

“What if I wanted to?” You ask, looking up at him again, “What if I wanted this thing we’re dancing around to be real?”

You lean into him, standing on your tiptoes as you brace yourself on his chest. Eyes not daring to leave his face, flickering between his warm eyes and the soft smile on his lips. 

Never had you felt like this. Was it the wine? No, even when Laurence had liquored you up, you never longed for the feeling of his lips against yours. You couldn’t remember a time where you longed for the feeling of someone’s lips against yours. 

Laurence had been your first kiss. He was your first everything, and that made your heart pound even harder in your chest as his too brash laugh sounded behind the curtains. You probably hadn’t been your husband’s first anything, other than wife. You clearly were not his last either. 

Laurence could have his affair, your wine addled mind decided. He could have his dangerous side business and his money troubles. That was fine as long as you got to feel Alastor’s arms wrapped around you and discover how it feels to kiss someone you wanted to kiss. 

“No,” Alastor whispered, finger coming to rest against your lips as you moved to close the distance. 

“I’m sorry.” You jerked back, stumbling. Alastor held safe, steading you with an arm around your waist. “I- I misread the-”

“You didn’t,” Alastor whispered. “I simply do not wish for you to do something you may come to regret under the influence of wine and a broken heart.”

“I won’t.” You promise, “I’ve been thinking about this a long time,” you lie. 

Alastor’s hand returns to your face, fingers curling under your chin as he rubs his thumb across your lower lip, a smile on his face. “You have so much more to lose in this than I do,” his voice was a soft whisper, hard to hear over the sound of the band and the woman outside the curtain fawning over your husband, “I’m not rejecting you. Mother simply raised me to not kiss a woman the first time when we both been hitting the sauce.”

“Alastor,” you whisper, lips moving against his thumb as tears fell from your eyes. “It’s not fair.” 

“What isn’t?” He asked as he let his hands trail down your arms as he stepped off the crate. Hands wrapped around your waist as he easily lifted you off the crate, settling your feet on the ground slowly, ensuring your heels didn’t click against the floor. Reaching up, his always soft touch wiped away the tears that seemed to run down your face in a constant stream. 

“He gets to have whatever he wants, but I finally want someone and I can’t,”

“No one is saying you can’t, my dear.” Alastor rested his forehead against yours for a moment, knowing his words were not true. Everyone was saying you couldn’t, but he would only say you couldn’t right now. It was better for him, he told himself, that your heart yearns for him a little longer. In the back of his head, he heard his mother’s voice telling him not to lie to her. How strange, considering he wasn’t. “Just that our first kiss will not be in this situation.” 

“Is it alright?” You ask, knowing the answer was ‘no’. Nothing would be alright again. You’d shown Alastor too much. You’d seen too much. There was no going back from what you knew tonight. 

“It will be,” Alastor said as he reached out, entwining his fingers in yours as he slowly pulled you toward the door leading deeper into the back room. “I promise you, it will be alright.” 

You wanted to believe him. 

Next?

[justmeinadaze]

Nothings Gonna Change My World Part 2 (Steddie X You)(Zombie Apocalypse Universe)

A/N: The way I am having fun with this <3

I can absolutely go back to some of these universes and expand in separate series. Especially this one.

Please Enjoy!

Warnings: Steddie X Fem Reader, In universe Zombie Apocalypse survivors Steddie X Y/N, SMUT, dp, dirty talk, and things in-between, FLUFF, in the universe the relationship is already established and they love each other <3

ANGST! Obviously Zombies, Steve is the leader of a community and Eddie is an ex military sniper; mentions of military PTSD (brief) , mentions of Steve being abandoned by parents, mentions of readers sister Kallie being turned and Y/N guilt of that, Reader is kidnapped and the boys save her, mentions of blood, cliffhanger in universe, Eddie talks about his mother dying of cancer (brief), Steve talks about his asshole dad (brief), they ask again how her sister passed but she refuses to answer.

This chapter kinda delves into abandonment issues and fears of losing new people in your life so if that's a trigger fair warning! I have abandonment issues so I get it <3

Word Count: 6765

Chapter 1/Donate to Me <3

“Ok and how did you feel moving around?”

“Like a passenger I guess. It was very much like a movie or VR.”, you sigh as you lean back in your seat. 

You had been answering his questions for over two hours and quite frankly you were exhausted. After the experiment and now dealing with this asshole, you barely even had time to process what you saw. 

“Was anything similar to our universe? Or even your life in general?”

“My sister was still dead. That’s fun.”, you sass as his eyes scan you over. “Um, they seem forever regressed in a time period that has long since past even though my grandma always said the 90s were a blast.”

“Was anyone there you recognized? Family, past friends, relationships?”

Your gaze shifts as you avoid his eyes and prepare to do the thing you do best; lie.

“Um, my ex was there. In that universe, he cheated on me. In ours, he just left me.”

“I see… ok, and you said you just went to bar, listened to a band, went to a party, and then woke up?”

“Yup.”, you reply with an obnoxious pop on that last letter.

“Did anything stand out as odd or feel off?”

You got lost in the void as you ran through the universe you just experienced and couldn’t help but smile at the warm fuzzy feeling of safety that flowed through you when you were around Eddie and Steve. For the first time in years, nothing stood out or felt off.

“Y/N?”

‘Oh, um, no nothing.”

“Ok…ok. Go ahead and head back to the common area. We just served meals so eat, rest up, and we’ll talk again after the next session.”

***

The following day, you felt their eyes on you. Steve was always in a corner doing push-ups or working out in the gym that was provided while Eddie was either smoking or reading on the balcony outside of the sitting area. 

You planned to avoid them for the rest of the time but you were antsy as jitters ran through your hands desperate for a beer to calm your nerves. Stepping outside, you took a seat on one of the lawn chairs without looking his way. 

Before even saying a word, he extended his arm out with his pack in hand.

“Don’t get used to this. These things are fucking expensive in here but…” When all you do is stare, he shakes it finally willing you to take one of the sticks between your fingers and lighting the end. “It’s kind of amusing to me that there’s a universe with an Eddie Munson that doesn’t smoke. He had a point though. Because of my mom I shouldn’t be doing it myself yet here I am.”

Flashing a smirk your way, he visually takes this version of you in as you inhale the cigarette and blow out a big puff of smoke. Compared to the you in the alternate universe, you seemed a bit more rough around the edges. While you never answered Steve’s question about your class status, you did seem like you fit in both. 

You could pass for upper class like the other boy with how clean cut you were with that air of arrogance that screamed everyone was beneath you. But unlike them, you seemed exhausted like someone who had just completed their last leg of ten-mile race. You appeared sassy and confident but to him you also seemed…sad. 

“You said your name was Y/N? In the thing I mean.”, he clarified when your looked at him with confusion. “I’m Eddie. Well Edward but my friends call me Eddie.”

“I don’t care. You and I aren’t friends.”

“Excuse the fuck out of me, princess.”

Your eyes shift his way again at the term remembering him calling you that in the alternate universe and how comfortable he made you feel. 

“I’m sorry. I, uh, yeah my name is Y/N. Doctor dipshit said I had to be sober for this experiment so it’s been a week since I’ve had anything and it’s making me insane.”

“I know how that goes. After our experience I would love a beer.”, he chuckles making you grin as well. “So, uh, if I may how did it feel?”

“I’m sorry?”

“The doctor guy asked me what it felt like in the universe and I told him it was kind of surreal like I was seeing through someone else’s eyes but what was even more crazy was I could smell the smoke in the air at the party. I could practically feel the plastic from the controller when I was playing that game. I, um, I could feel your lips. I can still smell your perfume and cold air that was attached to you when Steve brought you inside.”

Jesus, he could string words together like a poet which you weren’t expecting at all. As he spoke, your brain replayed those four hours as your eyes took in Eddie who had turned in his chair to give you more of his attention. 

“Did you experience the same?”

“I did.”, Steve answers as he saunters around the corner and sits at the end of your lawn chair to light his own cigarette eliciting an eye roll from the other boy. 

“I wasn’t asking you, Harrington, but good to know.”

As the man inhales and exhales, he stares off into the distance towards the skyline. 

“I think that was genuinely the first time I felt happy…being on stage and playing that guitar… Then I saw you come in and I felt like I knew you.”

“Maybe in that universe we had passed by each other a few times before that night.”

Steve’s lips pout out as he shakes his head. 

“Naw, it didn’t feel that way. Did it feel like that for you?”

“No.”

“Just no?”

“Jesus Christ! What do you both want from me?!”

“A straight fucking answer maybe.”, Eddie responds as you rise from your chair and toss the cigarette over the edge of the building. 

“I don’t owe you anything especially an answer.”

As you start to head back inside the long-haired boy’s voice gives you pause. 

“I still don’t think less of you for anything you’ve done. That’s one thing that version of me and I have in common.”

“I don’t either but I do want to know more.”

***

That morning you dragged your sleepy form to the cafeteria to grab some coffee and took a seat at a random table…or so you thought. 

“Kinda starting to feel like you’re stalking me, sweetheart.”

“Jesus Christ.”, you sigh ignoring his breathy laugh as he continues to pick at the cereal in his bowl. “Why are you two even eating together? I thought you hated each other.”

“I mean, we’re going to be stuck together for a month. Might as well make the best of it.”, Steve shrugs as he sips from his own cup. 

You take in his comment as your gaze shifts to the void in front of you. You had numerous dreams about them and a couple about Kallie that were making you feel a bit lonely. You could have some casual conversation. What could it hurt?

“I felt safe with you both. It was an intense emotion but I knew I could trust you. Which is weird because I don’t trust anyone except my sister.”

“Kallie.” You nod at Eddie’s answer surprised he even remembered. “Do you have that tattoo?”

“Yeah and in the same place.”

“It’s interesting what stays the same. My dad is still an asshole, Eddie was still living with his uncle, and you still lost your sister.”, Steve theorized as he casually continues to drink. “I’m sorry, honey. Maybe this universe today will be different.”

“Honestly…I don’t know what I’d do if I saw her face again.”

“Ok, guys.”, the doctor shouts as he claps his hands to get everyone’s attention. “We’re very excited about the second test to see what happens. It seems we had some positive experiences when it came to the first universe. We’re hoping for the same in this regard. Please, if you don’t mind, gather your dishes and place them on the counter so we can start heading to the vessels.”

“Pfft, if you don’t mind. Like we have a choice.”, Eddie snickers as he takes note that his comment made you smirk as well. 

As you enter the experiment room, the three of you separate to go to your different pods where nurses do the same as they had before; making sure you were comfortable and getting your vitals.

“Alright, Y/N, ready for the pinch… Oh I know.”, she coos as you wince. “Dropping down in 3, 2, 1…”

######################

Everything was dark around you when you tried to open your eyes but couldn’t. The feeling of fear heavy in your heart as you listened to people whisper around you. 

“Do you really think she’ll help save us?”

“Yeah, I mean she’s a part of his group so once he comes for her we can use her to have Harrington provide us with a cure.”

“If he has the cure than why hasn’t he done it already?”

“I don’t fucking know! Maybe he’s selfish like his father.”

The sound of your whine gives them pause as you try to break the bonds tied around your wrists keeping you fastened to the chair underneath you. They were using you to get to one of the men you loved. 

If they’d remove the gag from your mouth you could tell them the truth; that he didn’t have a cure. If he had, he absolutely would have handed it over by now. You knew because you thought the same thing.

When you met him, you weren’t aware of what building you were in until you found him rummaging through his father’s desk. When you pulled your gun on him, he held up his palms in surrender insisting he wasn’t here to cause trouble. It took all your energy not to kill him right then and there but a red dot zeroed in on your chest forced you to pause.

The Harrington Virus was the reason your sister was taken from you, dying in your arms before she began to turn into a mindless flesh-eating corpse that you had to put down. 

He told you then about how his father’s company had created a viral weapon to sell to the military but it backfired and ended the world. His parents went into hiding and he spent the last two years looking for a cure feeling strongly it had to be somewhere within his father’s things. 

Over the last six months, you got to know him and his best friend he had been trying to survive with, falling in love with them and trying to help them save the world so to speak. 

While out on a routine supply run, someone took you and here you were.

“Did you hear that?”, one of the men asked cocking his gun as you hear footsteps echo away from you. 

Loud squelching noises make you jump as you prepare for the worst. Your body trembles in terror before the blindfold is removed from your eyes and you blink to adjust to the light around you.

“Everything’s ok, honey.”, Steve comforts as he takes the gag out of your mouth and begins untying you from the chair. Taking in your surroundings, both men who had kidnapped you were now dead with the man’s knife bloodied on the ground beside you. They had brought you to a warehouse of some kind but where you weren’t sure.

“Steve, you shouldn’t be here. They wanted you to come for me! We had a deal!”

“Yeah we did but I ignored it. We can fight about it later.”, he sasses as he grabs your hand and prepares to run before meeting another gun barrel in his face. “Tommy…good to see you again.”

The man growls as he hits Steve with the butt of his weapon and watches as he falls to the side. 

“Good to see you to, Harrington. How’s your dad?”

“I wouldn’t know. He disappeared and didn’t feel the need to take me with him.”, the boy winces as he tries to stand but is pushed back down. 

You step forward to help but Tommy turns the gun on you. 

“Don’t move, Y/N. How could you do this? How could you side with him after what happened to Kallie?!”

“Don’t you dare talk about my sister!”

“She would be so ashamed of you! You said you were going to kill him and yet somehow you managed to fuck him. The first time we saw you two together while scouting we thought maybe you were just trying to get on his good side. Come to find out, no, you actually fucking love him!”

You see the glint of light near the ceiling and your sigh in frustration at both men’s stubbornness. As you hold your palm in the air, Tommy scans you over trying to get a read on what you’re doing. 

“It’s not his fault, Tommy. I promise. These past 6 months we’ve been trying to track down Bill and any notes he had on a cure. We’ve come up with nothing.”

“That’s impossible! He can’t just fucking evaporate into thin fucking air, Y/N!”

“I know! But he will if you kill his son. If you kill him you’ll never have a chance!”

You see doubt flicker across his face for a split second before it hardens once more and raises his weapon in your direction. 

“I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks as you close your eyes and close your fist above you. The second your fingertips make contact with the bottom of your hand, you hear a soft whooshing sound followed by a bullet hitting flesh and when you open your eyes again Tommy is dead on the ground in front of you. “You two are idiots.”, you scold as you lean forward to help Steve to his feet right as Eddie slides into view slinging his sniper rifle over his shoulder.

“Are you alright?”, the long-haired boy asks with concern as his fingers caress the scrapes on your skin. 

“Yeah, come on. We have to go.”

The three of you run and skirt around the undead unseen back to the compound you called home.

***

“Ooooooow!”, Steve whines overdramatically as a girl pushes a bandage over the cut on his forehead. 

“Oh, don’t be such a baby.”, she teases as she lightly taps his forehead and turns to work on you. 

“I’m fine, Robin. Don’t waist the supplies.”

“I didn’t ask if you were fine, Y/N. I am designated nurse lady so let me at least look you over, please and thank you.”, she grins making you smile as well as you rolled your eyes. 

The year you and Kallie were with Tommy and his group, you rarely smiled. Everything you two did there was to find the Harringtons and find a cure especially after Tommy’s girlfriend got infected. There was very little time for play or fun and your sister hated it. She always talked about leaving the group and heading off towards the beach with your back to the water. 

You insisted on staying because you felt like you were close to the cure. Maybe if you had left Kallie would still be here…

When you joined Steve and Eddie at their base with the high school, everyone seemed so much more at ease. They worked together to get things done and made time to have fun which you didn’t realize you missed till your first night here. 

“Ok, do you think any more of them will come back?”, Wayne asked at the desk just outside of the nurse’s office. 

“I don’t know. Y/N always said Tommy was in charge so I guess it depends on who takes over and if they even want to bother.”, his nephew answers as they continue to look down at a map on the table. 

“Well, we’ll continue to keep an eye out and I suggest Steve and Y/N don’t leave this place alone for any reason until we can confirm.”

“Can I shoot them in the legs if they do?”, Eddie jests as his best friend pushes him to the side lightly.

You feel all eyes in the room watch you as you silently leave the area and head to your shared room with the guys. The best part about being in a school was each classroom was utilized as a different room. This particular hallway was for bedrooms but soon you would have to open another with the more people you let in. 

The generators kept the electricity running so you were able to have mini fridges and food in each area along with music and anything else you may need. 

“Ok, we can fight about it now if you want.”, Steve announces as they both come in and shut the door. 

Shaking off your jacket and tossing it aside you continue to ignore them as they do the same. Fashion was scarce in the apocalypse but goddamn did they look good. Steve always wore that brown leather military jacket he stole from a gun store nearby but depending on who he was meeting that day was what he wore underneath. For your rescue, jeans and a crisp black t-shirt with black running shoes were in order but if he was meeting a new member of the group or a group outside to do exchanges with he donned slacks and a button up shirt to look “presentable.” 

Eddie never cared as long as he was comfortable. When you guys went out scavenging, if he found a band shirt he enjoyed he brought it back home with him wearing one of those with a pair of jeans or sweats and always having his DIO vest over that which he had modified himself to hold his sniper bullets should he need them. 

Before you met them you knew about Eddie Munson but not enough to form an opinion. With Tommy, you had done research on Steve and he was flagged as an accomplice but deemed invaluable because there wasn’t much information on them together. When you and Kallie did stake outs, you saw them spend time together and watched him practice firing his weapon, surprised about how well he shot. 

After coming here, you learned that his uncle had been in the military before he came to live with him and took him out to a range to show him how to shoot. Eddie himself signed up for service and did a tour labeled as the best sniper marksman in his unit. He had planned on doing another tour but while on leave the world ended. 

Your eyes continue flick between them as Eddie leaned against the arm of the couch with his arms folded across his chest while Steve stood in front of you waiting for you to speak. Unable to find the words in that moment, you stepped forward and smacked him hard across the face.

“We had a deal. If anything ever happened to me; if I got kidnapped or was in a situation that was dangerous you would leave me behind because people on this earth and finding a cure was more important!”

“I made that deal for you but I’ve never liked it especially now.”

“Oh my God, Steve, you are so fucking selfish! We’ve come so close numerous times to finding an end to this! I’m just one person in a sea of others who need your help!”

“That’s how you see it. I don’t.”

“I don’t care! The world needs you!”

“The world may need me but I need you!”, he snaps, placing his hands on his hips as he exhales. “WE need you.”

“That’s…that’s not fair.”

“No, sweetheart. What’s not fair is making us choose. To us…you’re our world. We love you.”, Eddie adds softly as your eyes meet his. “Now, how about we stop pretending you’re sacrificing yourself for the world and be honest. You don’t want us coming to save you because you don’t want to be responsible for another death.”

“Even though we tell you time and time again that what happened with Kallie wasn’t your fault.”

Your jaw tightens as you glare at the wall. 

“I got stuck in that building. I should have been the one…”

“No, baby, no. Your sister made her choice because she loved you. What happened wasn’t because of you or her. It happened because my father was greedy and helped create a weapon without knowing anything about it.”

Tears started to fall but as they stepped forward, you hastily ran out of the room.

***

“Hey, Y/N. Can you go the library for me and grab me a book about infections? I’m trying to read up on alternative remedies for green things.”

“Gross and you can’t get this, Rob, because…?”

“Because I asked you to.”

Laughing and patting her shoulder, you got to your feet as you headed away from the group in the cafeteria to make your way for the library to get what she needed. Part of the reason you put up with Robin’s sass is because she reminded of Kallie; 90% attitude and sarcasm with a kind, genuine heart. 

As you opened the door music caught your attention as you stepped inside. 

“Miss Y/L/N.”, Eddie smiled as he gestured towards the table that had a candle lit in the middle surround by cafeteria trays of food in front of three seats. 

“I’m going to kill Robin.”

“Ah no you’re not.”, Steve teases as he takes your hand and guides you to your seat. “On our menu today, we have school lunch hamburgers with a side of fries and a can of soda Eddie brought back with him from his last supply run.”

“Aaaaaand…”, the long-haired boy sings as he reaches into his vest and pulls out the desert to display to you. “A chocolate cupcake.”

“Oh my god. What did I do to deserve this Michelin star meal?”, you joke with a smile.

“You’re you.”, Eddie grins as he reaches over to place his palm over yours. “And you went through a lot today. Not just with getting kidnapped but these were people you were with for over a year. They were family…”

“Kallie was family. You two…are my family.”, you sigh as you swallow the lump in your throat. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“Hey, no reason to apologize. You’re a stubborn hardass. We get that.”, Steve interrupts sarcastically, chuckling when you punch his arm. “If anyone gets that, honey, it’s us. I may help watch over those people out there but you both mean everything to me. I don’t know where I would be if…”

Your heart broke as you watched him shift into a memory he only spoke about a handful of times. When the virus broke out, he was at home but did what they rehearsed as a family and ran to his BMW to speed to the airport. His parent’s security stopped him as the helicopter flew over his head and neither of them even gave a cursory glance at their son as it flew away. 

The area became over run and all Steve could do was sprint as he tried to remain in one piece. He was cornered at the high school and right as he thought he was about to die; gun fire went off before a ringed hand reached from behind a gate and yanked him inside. 

Eddie had been with his uncle which he was thankful for as both men ran to the closest safe place they could find. Some of the nearby kids were hold up there and he did what he could to save them. Once it was cleared of the infected, he and Steve worked together to build their little community. 

“I’m sorry, baby.”

Flashing you a big smile, he reaches for your hand and kisses the back as you three eat your meal. When you’re finished, Eddie beams your way mischievously and presses something behind him before a new song lightly flows through the room. 

“Wise men say

Only fools, only fools rush in

Oh, but I, but I, I can't help falling in love with you.”

“You’re such a dork.”, you giggle as you take the hand he extends to you and guides you to your feet where you both lightly begin to sway. 

“Shall I stay?

Would it be, would it be a sin?

If I can't help falling in love with you.”

“I was terrified when you didn’t come back.”, Eddie murmurs above you as you lay your head against his chest. “I tried picturing you as one of those things and I just… it killed me. When Steve got Tommy’s letter, I was relieved you weren’t dead but I was so angry…I wanted to burn that whole place to ground.”

As your gaze shifts to look at his face, you realize his eyes are glazed over as he simmers in his fury. Even though the world had ended, Eddie still carried PTSD from the time before. While he was a decorated soldier, during his tour he saw a lot of things he carried with him that had you holding him at night as he cried from a nightmare. 

 Zombies were one thing but men coming after him with weapons and intent was another. 

“I love you, baby. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

Blinking back into the moment, he softly smiles before kissing your forehead and spinning you into Steve’s awaiting arms. 

“Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things, you know, are meant to be.”

“I don’t know what we’d do without you, honey. Jesus, wait until we tell our children we met their mom when she pointed a gun in my face.”, he chuckles as he playfully dips you. 

As your face falls, he wraps his arms tightly around you.

“Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can"t help falling in love with you.”

“We’re going to figure this out, Y/N. Whether it be a cure or a safe place in this chaos, we’ll get everything in order and start a family.”

Tilting your head back, his lips land softly on yours as his kisses slowly get more passionate. 

“Wait…what if someone…comes in here.”, you pant making him smile as his thumbs caress your cheek.

“I’ve booked this suite all night, baby. It’s just you, me, and Eddie till morning.”

After quick peck again, you fall to your knees and fumble with his belt as he removes his shirt above you. As soon as his cock springs free, your lips wrap around it as he places his hand on your head to guide you. 

“God, Y/N. That feels so fucking good.”

Reaching behind you, the long-haired boy laughs knowing what you’re looking for as he comes closer and pushes down his sweats. Both men groan and exhale heavily as your mouth switches between them while pumping your hand to spread your saliva along their shaft. 

“Come here, sweetheart.”, Eddie breathily instructions as he jumps up on to one of the tables and helps you out of your jeans and panties before guiding you till you were straddling his waist. 

After lifting off his own shirt, you couldn’t help but kiss along the scars on his chest like you always did as he petted your head. He had so many old wounds from battles he didn’t talk about; war, the apocalypse, his father when he was growing up. 

Eddie gave you the baseline of information. When his mother went missing he cried every day but his father didn’t care, hurting him over and over till he was arrested. One day overseas a bomb went off knocking him back and causing the little cuts on his stomach. Before he ran with Wayne, the trailer park was over run and he smashed out a car window to hot wire it so they could get away. 

Each scar had a different story but they made up the man he was and you loved every part of him. 

You felt safe with him; both of them.

“F-Fuck, princess.”, Eddie mewled as your gradually descended on to his length. 

Cupping your face in his hands, he tenderly trailed kisses from your forehead to your lips. 

Feeling Steve’s large palms on your ass, you lifted up to allow him more access as he carefully guided his own cock into your hole. 

You would never get used to the full feeling of them both inside you but just like out in the world, in the bedroom you felt safe. 

Between their bodies, nothing else mattered.

You could see the stars, heaven, and even the future. A future with no virus, smiling kids, and happy home filled with hope. No more nightmares or screams. Just peace. 

“Hey, hey. A-are you ok? Are we hurting you?”, Steve asked as Eddie whipped the tears that had begun to fall. 

“No…I just love you both… so much.”

Grinning they kiss a random part of your body as they begin thrusting into you again at a steady pace. 

“We love you to, baby. Mmph— everything’s ok.”

“We love you.”, Eddie repeated as his jaw fell open in a silent moan. “You feel so good.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you clung to him as they found a faster rhythm allowing their cocks to hit every sensitive spot inside of you roughly. 

“Cum, baby. You can do it, honey. That’s it.”, Steve coaxed as your body shook and the coil snapped. “Atta girl. That’s our beautiful girl. Shit.”, he grunted as his hips sloppily slammed his release into your behind.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Up, Y/N.”, Eddie lightly commanded but the other boy took the initiative, lifting you off his friend’s dick and allowing you to tilt over him as you bobbed your head, catching his release on your tongue as it spurts down your throat. “Mmph—good girl. Good girl.”

You giggle as Steve pulls you down the floor and you utilize his arm as a pillow while the long-haired boy hops down to snuggle you to his chest. 

“We got you one more thing.”

“Why?”, you blush as you listen to his strained groan while reaching for his bag above his head. 

“Because we love you. Unless you don’t want it. I can take it back to the store and—” His grin grows as you lightly smack his arm and Eddie chuckles behind you. 

As soon as everyone calms down, he produces a small diamond ring that has you smirking his way. 

“What’s that?”

“A ring.”

“For what?”

“For you.”, the other boy answers. “If you want it, that is.”

You can’t help but blink as you sit up and they follow. 

“I don’t understand.”

“Yes, you do.”, Steve replies way too calmly. He was definitely meant to be a leader. “You’re just scared.”

“I am not. What on earth do I have to be afraid of?”

“Besides the ever-present doom of the end of the world?”, Eddie jokes as he leans back on his palms. “Maybe losing us…like you did Kallie… Trust me, babe. I was a solider. I understand that fear better than most.”

“So do I. My parents abandoned me in the middle of all this.”, Steve gestures around him. “I watched them fly away while people around me were dying but, honey, you can’t live your life in fear…especially this one. We could be gone at any second and if anything happened to me than I’d want my last memories to be a full life with you and my best friend.”

After thinking for a moment, you casually take the ring from his hand and pretend to inspect it.

“I think when you give a girl something like this you’re supposed to ask her a specific question.”

They both laugh as they grab each one of your hands. 

“Honey, I’ve been love you since I met you. You’re smart, sweet, and so fucking beautiful. The first time I held you I knew I’d never let you go. Will you marry me?”

Cupping your cheek, Eddie turned you to face him. 

“I don’t trust many people but when I saw you running around that building trying to sneak up on Steve I knew you were special.”, he chuckles as you laugh at the memory. “I love your sarcasm and your strength and you motivate me to open my heart not just to you but people around me. You make me a better man, sweetheart. Will you marry me?”

Before you can answer, Dustin busts through the library doors as they pull a blanket over your lower half to cover you. 

“Henderson! Rude, man—”

“Steve, something… you need to come…now…”, the boy panted. 

Noting his genuine concern, both men pulled up their pants and began to follow. 

“Stay here.”

“That’s cute you think I’d listen to that.”, you answer his command sarcastically as you tug up your own jeans and push past them to see what’s going on. 

As you enter a hallway by the doors, you see Robin running around a woman on the floor trying to assess her wounds as she tries to catch her breath. 

“H-H-Harrington. I need…Harrington…”

When Steve steps through the crowd, her eyes widen as she forces herself off the floor and limps to him, collapsing in his arms as he catches her. 

“Y-Your father…I escaped…I found…help…”

“I don’t understand.”

Swallowing in frustration, she extends her palm and hands him a crumbled-up piece of paper. 

“C-C-Cure.”

His amber eyes widen as he twists his head to meet your own irises as your mouth falls open in shock behind the long-haired man who insisted on keeping you behind him to keep you safe.

The woman notices as her bottom lip trembles and extends her arm to reach for him. 

“Eddie?”, she whispers.

The man scans her over again before kneeling beside his friend to take her hand in his. 

“Mom?”, his voice cracks at the realization. “What…where have you—”

#########################

Muffled screaming is the first thing you hear as your eyes snap open and the pod door slowly slides out. 

“Everything’s alright, Miss Y/N, I’m going to—no! Please don’t do this again!”

You ignore the nurse as you swing your legs over and promptly go on the hunt for Eddie. That feeling you had in the universe was still heavy in your heart; that worry for him as soon as he knelt down. 

The people around you were crying and still trying to catch their bearings as nurses tried to calm them. 

“Zombies were everywhere! They had us cornered!”

“My wife was trying to kill me!”

“I swear I could feel their teeth!”

A hand suddenly intertwined with yours, tugging you forward out of the room and down the hallway. Steve’s head was on a swivel as he searched for the other boy but you couldn’t take your eyes off him as that air of confidence from the other universe still seemed to cling to him as that rush of safety washed over you. 

“Ed?”

At his soft worried tone, your gaze shifted as you both entered the dorms and saw the man before you pacing as his chest heaved in what looked like anger. 

“Everything’s ok, Munson.”

“Everything is NOT ok.”, he growled. “Did you see her, Steven? She was in so much pain and needed help… and why was she talking about your dad?!”

“I-I don’t know. That’s not me and even if it was that Steve felt just as confused—”

“BULLSHIT!”, Eddie screamed as he lurched toward him and shoved him against the wall. “My uncle and dad worked for your father’s company in this universe! If Bill did something to her in that other one…”

“Eddie, I swear on my life, I have no idea what my father does with his business but I’m sure he wouldn’t be responsible for what happened to your mother.”

“What did happen?”, you ask making the long-haired boy jump, forgetting you were even there.

“She died…cancer…what was odd though was she had no family history of it.”, he rumbled as his angry eyes focused on Steve’s. 

“So…this was the first time you saw here in a while…?”

The man’s voice shook as he answered your question. 

“Since I was six…”

“Eddie…I don’t know much about either of you in this world but so far in both Steve’s father has been an asshole who abandoned his son. 2 for 2 says a lot…which makes me think that in this universe here, it’s most likely the same.” Steve’s eyes flutter slightly at your assessment as the other man’s grip around him loosens. “Whatever Bill Harrington is involved in…I don’t think he’d have his son help or know about it and not because he doesn’t want him to get in trouble.”

“My dad has told me numerous times I’d never live up to our name.”, the man whispers. “I’m so sorry, Ed. I swear if I knew anything I’d tell you. I’d have told you a long time ago.”

Eddie snickers as he steps back. 

“When? When you were ignoring me or when your friends were calling me a freak? You always treated me like I was beneath you especially at school because only you rich pricks should have been there according to you. Us kids of employees should have been relegated to some cheap public school, remember?” Steve’s jaw tightens as his eyes flick to you before finding the boy’s again. “Which is why I don’t FUCKING UNDERSTAND why 2 for 2 you and I are friends and fucking THIS girl.”, he shouts as he gestures towards you. 

“Don’t look at me. I don’t get it either.”, you growl as you fold your arms defiantly.

“You HAVE to know us or even one of us.”, Steve insists. “You come from money right? Have I seen you or something at a party or a charity thing? Anything?”

“First off, fuck you. Second, I don’t come from money. My father’s side does.”

“Our private school has your last name.”

“No, it has my great grandfather’s last name. That doesn’t mean I know you.”

“Jesus, you’re really fucking stubborn.”

“I don’t know why you’re quizzing me! I’m just as confused as you! Look, I just came in here to make sure Eddie was ok and now I regret it. This is why I didn’t want to make friends or whatever.”

“Because they die or leave?”

Your eyes narrow towards the long-haired boy as you glare his way. 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. In both universes, you talked about your sister and how you were afraid of us leaving you. Whether that be through judgement or death. In the first one your boyfriend cheated and then in this one your ‘family’ kidnapped and scolded you for your choice. Is it the same in this universe? Are you afraid if you make friends with anyone you’ll end up alone again?”

“Fuck you, Eddie.”

“What happened to Kallie?”

“None of your fucking business!”

As you start to walk away, Eddie grabs your arm to pull you back and in return you smack him. He doesn’t say a word as his grip on your bicep slides to your wrist and his head hangs.

“I’m sorry. You’re right…it’s none of our business. Just…seeing my mom and then feeling everything that other Eddie felt.”

“I understand.”, you sigh as you lean your forehead on his. “It lingers…the feelings…”

“We never got an answer.”, Steve murmurs causing you both to look his way. “We asked you to marry us. That Steve seemed confident and smooth but he was really fucking nervous to ask you that.”

“So was Eddie. He…you made him feel like he wasn’t just a robot who could wield a gun. You gave him hope. Hope for a future that he struggled to believe in.” 

As the feelings and their words overwhelmed you, you tried to leave again but his hand kept you in place and Steve came up behind you till his chest was against your back. 

“Please, don’t go.”

Eddie’s shoulders shook as he began to cry and as your arms wrapped around him, he rested his face into the nook of your neck as he clung to you, holding you tightly to his chest.

###################

@baileebear @jasminelafleur @twirls827 @dashingdeb16 @myherometalhead @starboygf @alba8688 @crybabyddl @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @utterlyinsanity @hardladyheart @yesimabratandwhataboutot @chelebelletx @season4steve @fic-lover-29

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

It's like a ping pong game now isn't it? And MM doesn't know how to play this game, it's going from bad to worse for Madame Markle..

Well, the rumor as per Lady C (so take with a truckload of salt) is that allegedly Meghan planted the original Hollywood Reporter story herself so she could get some sympathy PR. Supposedly Meghan gave the HR reporter one name to use (my money's on the individual who still works at Archewell because no way would that person talk without Meghan's explicit consent) and the guy dug up the other 11 on his own.

The Us Weekly was 100% a clapback to The Hollywood Reporter. Given how quickly that story came out, it was definitely in the works when HR published. The Sussexes' "no comment" answer to the HR was because the Us Weekly story was already in progress. Which I suspect Ari and WME were probably aware of as well, given how they've nuked similar "exposes" for other clients. It was out of character for them to let a story like this get published without interference, just like it's out of character for Meghan to take a complaint like this lying down.

And now there's a new exclusive in The Daily Beast. The story about Meghan popping off on a florist is not new and has been around for a long time (which is different from the wedding florist rumor), but the preceding quote about how she's happy when everything goes her way but becomes "demonic" when it doesn't is new.

Is this the start of a press tsunami? Certainly does feel like it, and that's significant because Talking Tarot (an old tumblr blogger from the Sussexes' early days whose track record was very good but who left royal-watching in 2020/2021ish) predicted a press tsunami very similar to what we saw August - November 2018 preceding a Sussex divorce announcement.

What feels familiar about this, as also happened in the 2018 press tsunami (and ignoring Lady C's allegations since they can't be verified), is that the originating source of these stories is not a Sussex affiliate planting PR at Meghan's behest but rather someone acting independently, followed by Meghan (with Harry) clapping back so egregiously that other stories, other leaks, other sources speak out.

And this is different from the saga with Tom's letter. Remember, Meghan wrote that letter intending for him to leak it so she could get sympathy PR and when he didn't, she baited him with the People 5 Friends story. That's her usual MO, one we've seen time and time again since November 2016: Meghan claims one thing. Harry or the BRF (or Tom in the People instance) say something else. Meghan claps back with a new narrative or she doubles down.

But I'm advising caution. While this press tsunami eve (if you will) looks promising, we've had many false starts before. Let's see what happens next. Does Meghan respond to The Daily Beast? Does this go away? Or is this the fatal chink in the armor that makes the Sussexes' glass house finally collapse?

[starlightiing]

Looking for a place to make some new friends in the world of F1 without having to worry about being flamed for loving and supporting your favorite driver? Bored over the long breaks? Wanting to connect with people who enjoy the sport as much as you do?

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