#this is just a lasagna of emotions at this point

[mostlikelytofangirl]

Regarding your comment over at ao3, YES!!! WRH doesn't know MY is JGY now! Imagine when he realizes?!?!? "Jin Guang... Jin guangwho? Jin Guangyao? Meng Yao!" The amount of feelings that will add to his internal whirlwind! So JGY did get legitimised! He's not on Jinlintai just as a servant or a guest! And he threw all that to the wolves for him? Hello??? WRH doesn't know what to feel :') JGY who put him there is now watching over him (as little as he likes the notion) good grief poor old man

Ahaha what a NICE realization to have :'D

It was one thing to believe that MY was a prisoner too that managed to escape, but now the treason makes all the more sense if the boy is now a legal Jin. He traded WRH's head for that name!

On the other hand tho

He would know that the Jin use generational names. Yes, MY got acknowledged but that's not the right character for his generation, it should be Jin Ziyao... which means that the boy handed Qinshan to his father and that still wasn't enough for Jin Guangshan!

It would be slightly vindicating, methinks. Sorta like "see? He was never going to appreciate you like I did, is it worth it now?!"

Regardless tho, MY was still a part of the sect that was rightfully his, he was a lawful son of the Jin and that was everything he wanted. And he renounced it to help WRH.

The fuckery just keeps on pilling up!

[unclewaynemunson]

'No no no Steve wait, don't throw that a...way.' The end of the sentence died on Eddie's tongue as the leftover lasagna, basically in slow-motion, tumbled out of the dish and into the bin. Eddie could almost hear a funeral march start to play over the dull thud and the sound of crushing eggshells.

'Fuck,' he said, emphatically.

'That was barely half a portion,' Steve remarked with a careless shrug while putting the empty dish back on the kitchen counter.

And Eddie groaned, tried to count to ten in his head but didn't even make it to two.

'I was gonna have that for lunch, man, add a slice of bread and an apple and I'd have a decent meal!'

There must have been something in his voice that told Steve that he wasn't just being overly dramatic but genuinely annoyed, because his face dropped and he shot a quick glance at the dish, as if that would magically summon the lasagna back into it, untouched by gross eggshells and coffee dregs.

'Seriously, that was perfectly good food, why would you throw that away?!'

'I can buy you lunch tomorrow?' Steve suggested sheepishly.

And, well, that hit a sore spot.

'That's not the fucking point!' Eddie exclaimed in frustration. 'I'm not your charity case or some shit, I can take care of my own meals – as long as you don't throw my food away!'

And again, it was like Eddie saw it happen in slow-motion: Steve flinched, took a stumbling step backwards, created as much distance between himself and Eddie as possible in the trailer’s tiny kitchen by bumping his back against the counter; something crossed his face that Eddie had never seen there before. And... shit.

All his frustration dissolved right on the spot and he immediately took another step away from Steve, even though everything inside of him wanted to cross that distance and hold him. He raised his hands in the air, cautious not to move too sudden.

'Steve, I'm not mad at you,' he said, forcing himself to sound as calm as possible despite his heart beating like crazy. 'I got annoyed, sure, but – it's okay. We're okay. You're okay. I didn't wanna hurt you, I promise.'

Steve swallowed, let his eyes dart everywhere except at Eddie's face while he tightly crossed his arms in front of his chest. The fear seemed to have disappeared from his face, replaced by something else; something expertly concealed within seconds. Anyone less well-versed than Eddie in the craft of noticing every little detail about Steve Harrington wouldn't notice; but Eddie did.

'You wanna talk about what happened there?' he asked, hesitant.

Steve didn't answer right away, his eyes still frantically darting around the trailer and his lower lip sucked between his teeth.

'What do you mean?' he finally said.

'Can I come closer?' Eddie asked. He felt like it would be so much easier to have this conversation if he could touch Steve; if he could smell him and have him in his orbit.

Steve nodded; Eddie sighed a breath of a relief and crossed the distance between them to rest his hands against Steve's sides; not quite an embrace, but something grounding for both of them nonetheless.

'I kinda recognized that look in your eyes, I guess,' Eddie quietly admitted. 'And the way you flinched. Like you were scared I was gonna do something bad.'

'I know you wouldn't –'

'I know,' Eddie was quick to reassure him. There was a beat of silence and Eddie wondered how much he should push. But he knew that he needed this conversation to happen, that it would keep gnawing at both of them if they didn't talk about it now.

'It's because of your dad, isn't it?'

Steve nodded, still looking slightly past Eddie.

'I'm sorry.' Eddie exhaled sharply, trying to keep his emotions under control; he knew that aimless anger at Steve's father wouldn't get them anywhere; not here, not right now. 'I mean, I knew he was bad, but I had no idea that it was... like that.'

He could hear Steve breathe out while he stared at some point just above Eddie's head.

'Sometimes I think all that crap is behind me now,' Steve quietly started to explain. 'But then something like this happens and it – it just catches me by surprise, is all. Like I'll never completely be free of the fear.'

Eddie nodded. 'Uncle Wayne, he... He looks a lot like my father - even though he's nothing like him. Took me years to fully trust him. He makes sure to never raise his voice, but still, sometimes when I see him make a sudden movement from the corner of my eyes, I just... freeze. Like it's some kind of instinct that’ll always stay with me.'

Steve finally looked Eddie in his eyes again, stunned and a little bit shocked.

'Your dad, too?'

Eddie nodded. 'Mhm.'

And wordlessly, Steve pulled him closer, until Eddie was enveloped in his warm arms and their chests were pressed against each other. Eddie let his eyes fall shut, breathed in Steve's familiar scent while he nestled his face in the crook of his neck and tightened his own grip around Steve's back.

They stayed like that for minutes, maybe even a whole eternity.

'Should we make rules?' Steve finally asked, in a hesitant voice and without pulling away from their embrace.

'What kind of rules?'

'Like, things to make sure that this doesn't – that we won't get scared. I know we can't promise not to fight, but...' He trailed off; Eddie could feel him shrug his shoulders.

He started slowly stroking one hand up and down over Steve's back. 'What was the thing that got you afraid, earlier?'

'Your loud voice – and the way you stepped into my space, I guess.'

'Okay.' Eddie nodded. 'So no yelling, and we try to keep our distance when shit goes sour. Sound good?'

Steve hummed against Eddie’s neck. 'Yeah. And for you? You mentioned the sudden movements, with Wayne?'

'Yeah, no sudden movements would help,' Eddie admitted.

'Okay, I can do that.'

Eddie squeezed Steve tighter. 'Thank you.'

Steve huffed. 'You're the one who started this conversation; I should be thanking you.'

Eddie lifted his face to press a gentle kiss against Steve's cheek, and another one at the corner of his lips.

'I'm sorry for startling you.'

'That's okay, you couldn't know.'

'Can you stop doing that, please?’ Eddie said with a chuckle. ‘Let me say thank you, let me apologize. Let me take care of you.'

Steve chuckled too; never before had Eddie been so grateful to hear that sound. 'I'll try.'

'You wanna stay the night?'

Steve shuffled, pulled back a little bit so that Eddie could see his face; there was a frown between his eyebrows.

'I'm not sure if I'm in the mood, after, you know...'

'Hey,' Eddie said, softly. 'You can stay the night for other reasons, too, you know. To have some comfort. To fall asleep together. To let me make sure that you're doing alright.'

'You sure?'

'Hell yes.'

Steve's head dropped down to Eddie's shoulder again, and Eddie lifted his hand to comb through his hair.

'Yeah, I'll stay.'

[pleasestayawayidonotlikeyou]

Fellswap gold Papyrus and Sans with s/o who is blind.

I think it would be interesting to see how coffee adapts. Since his main way of communication is writing notes, so will he just switch to whispering in our ear?

Have a great day/night!!❤❤❤

Just had one of the most SHITTY days of my entire life and writing this made me calmer so it's getting posted today.

Featuring: Wine and Coffee

Masterlist

Wine

He treats you like he would treat any other person, with respect until they prove they don't deserve it.

Well, of course he takes the fact that you're blind into consideration and is always by your side 24/7.

He's happy

Need something? Tell him what it is and he'll bring it to you. You're hungry? Have one of his best lasagnas in front of you.

Helps you move around and makes sure you have a healthy diet.

He cares dearly for you, and at this point in time you can't really get rid of him so-

The fact that you're blind doesn't bother him, especially because he's also blind, except it's only in one eye.

Coffee

You'd think that he may whisper or talk to you, but I'll already say he won't.

Of course, he can speak, yet his social anxiety doesn't let him, what if he says something wrong? Or if he pronounces a word wrong?

So, Coffee buys a Braille!

"But he can't carry it wherever he goes!" Who said that?

Yeah, it's pretty heavy, but he doesn't really care, it's not like he gets out of the house much anyways.

He knows you can't really see him play nor play with him, yet he still likes having you near, is what he calls his "emotional support partner", since every time he starts getting annoyed from losing he goes and lays on your lap.

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Secrets Out (fluff)

Mechanic!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Set in the A Cut Above The Rest universe, and kind of follows on from the little fic I wrote a few weeks back. I just love these two and I really like writing little snippits of their life after the fic? idk?

Word Count:1, 772

Masterlist // Eddie Munson Masterlist

“I can’t believe that that’s our baby.” Eddie said, as he looked at the small black and white photograph that you were holding in your hands. “Like that’s inside you right now.”

You were sitting comfortably beside Eddie in his van after coming back from your very first scan. After finding out you were pregnant, the both of you couldn’t have been more thrilled, and the trip to the hospital had been filled with a mixture of excitement and nerves.

You watched as his big brown eyes shined with bubbling tears threatening to spill over his lashes as looked down on the photo with a soft smile.

“Aw, Teddie, you're getting emotional about this, huh?” You said softly as you rubbed a hand up and down his arm.

“It's not that. It's just… I don't even know what I meant to be looking at.” he chuckled slightly, wiping away his tears. “Like I know it's a baby, but it just looks like a gray blob!” 

“Oh, Teddie! It's okay! It won't look like much right now, our baby is still really small.” You reassured him. “The doctor said everything looks perfectly healthy! That's a good thing! Our little baby's going to have those strong Munson genes.”

“They're going to end up with my big ‘ol schnozz aren't they?”

Leaning in, you press a kiss against his cheek.

“So who do you want to tell first?” you asked Eddie as he plopped down next to you on the sofa, his hair still slightly wet after his shower and vaguely smelling of your coconut shampoo.

“I'm counting on it.”

You and Eddie had discussed it beforehand, and now you were at a safe point in your pregnancy where you felt comfortable telling people the exciting news.

“I was thinking that I wanna tell Wayne first. It’s his birthday next week and I wanna surprise him with the news!”

“I love that idea! You know he’s going to be so excited to hear he’s going to be a pop-pop. He'd always joked to me about wanting grand-kids.”

“And have you had any thoughts about who you’d want as godparents?” You and Eddie had also discussed the idea of having your child have godparents. God forbid that anything happen to either you or Eddie, but you wanted someone who would be able to look after your little one if anything were to happen.

“Well, I know who I want it to be.” Eddie replied confidently. 

“..And I know who I want it to be too. Do you wanna say it on the count of three?”

One. Two. Three.

“Robin and Steve.” you both said simultaneously. 

“Well, that’s that solved.” he chuckled to himself.

You and Eddie arrive at Wayne’s place nice and early, with his favourite dinner that you’d promised you’d make for him tucked under your arm in a glass dish, a lasagna made for sharing, and Eddie carrying a bottle of wine for him and his uncle to share. 

You and Eddie had spent time in Wayne's place enough for it to feel like a second home, but now with this big secret you were harbouring, suddenly the air felt different as you stepped over the threshold of the house. 

And with the dinner eaten and cleared away, and wine glasses emptied (and thankfully your refusal of said wine went without so much as an graying eyebrow raise from Wayne)

“Thanks for making dinner, darlin’” Wayne thanks in his gruff southern drawl. “But you kids didn't have to come down to spend your day with an old man like me.”

“Of course we did! We couldn't let your birthday go un-celebrated, uncle.”

Eddie says.

“Boy, when you get to be as old as I am, birthday's ain't much to be celebrating besides waking up another day and not being dead.”

“Oh, so you don't want the presents we got for you then?” You ask with a teasing tone in your voice. 

“Now, I didn't say that..” Wayne grumbles despite the slight smile curving at his lips.

You reach for the small gift bag that you had brought along with you, placing it on the table in front of Wayne.

“Just a little surprise for you, Uncle.” Eddie says. “It’s from both of us, we hope you like it.”

You and Eddie watch Wayne open up his present with bated breath. Waiting for the big secret to come out. The ruffles of tissue paper are pulled from the bag as Wayne pulls out his present. A new, very special mug to add to his ever growing collection.

“World’s best grandpa? Boy, I know I’m old, but I ain’t that old yet.” he jokes, looking over to Eddie.

“Actually, Wayne, I think you better look inside that card too.” Eddie prompts, nodding his head towards the bag where the envelope is.

Wayne reaches for the envelope that is tucked away in the bag before opening it up to see the front of the card.

A standard ‘Happy birthday Grandpa!’ card, with a birthday cake and candles on the front.

You and Eddie exchanged a quick glance and shy smiles, realising that Wayne still hadn't quite got the message you were putting across. However, it all came together as he opened his card.

‘Happy Birthday Grandpa Wayne, I can't wait to meet you!’ Written above a picture of your ultrasound that you had taped inside the card. 

“Wait..You’re…Is this real right now? You’re not yankin’ on my chain right now?” Wayne asks as he begins to show the slightest bubble of tears in his usually stern, steely grey-blue eyes.

 “No, it’s not a joke, Wayne! I promise!” Eddie assured him.

“Yeah, we found out a few months ago, and we wanted you to be the first one to know.” you said softly, tears of your own now coming up to gather in your lashes.

“I’m so touched that I got to be the first one to hear about this.” Wayne says, his voice shaky with emotion as he gets up from the table to pull you in for a hug. “I’m so happy for you guys, I really am.”

Eddie sits back, watching the two people he loves the most in this world sharing in this very tender and soft moment.

“How long was it before this one started freaking out, huh?” Wayne teases, raising his eyebrows towards his nephew.

“Hey, I’ll have you know I didn’t “freak out”, I was actually very excited.” Eddie defends himself.

“No, it’s true. I think I did enough freaking out for the both of us.” you laugh. “I count myself very lucky to have someone like Eddie to hold my hand through this.” 

You had invited Robin and Steve over to yours and Eddie’s place under the guise of having a chill movie night, but actually you just wanted them both to be together when you told them the news.

“I hope it’s not some sappy, romantic, chick-flick you’ve chosen.” Steve grumbles as he steals a handful of popcorn from the bowl Robin was holding.

“Don’t pretend you don’t secretly enjoy them too, dingus. I caught you crying when you were watching When Harry Met Sally the other week.” Robin calls him out.

“Meg Ryan’s acting got to me, alright!” Steve defends.

“Actually, before we start the film,” you interjected between the pair’s lovable bickering. “Eddie and I have something we wanted to share.” you say.

“Well, we wanted to share some news, and ask you both quite a big question.” 

“You’re pregnant aren’t you?” Robin blurted out.

“Oh my god Robin you can’t just ask that!” Steve chided her with a gentle slap on her arm, but the silence that fell in the room suddenly felt like the loudest thing in the world. “Wait..Are you?”

You manage to huff out a gleeful ‘Yes!’ in between giggles as both Steve and Robin rush up to hug you.

“Congratulations to both of you, that’s so amazing!” Steve smiles broadly.

“I knew there was something up when you passed on doing shots with me after work last week. Oh my gosh, that's fantastic news!!” Robin cheered, her freckled cheeks beaming brightly. “How long have you known?”

“Only a few weeks, it was certainly quite the surprise let me tell you!” you smile as the both release you from the tight hug they had you in.

“And that brings us on to the other important question of the evening..” Eddie said as he laid a gentle and reassuring touch on your shoulders. “We were looking for two godparents, we wondered if you knew any good ones?”

“I think what Eddie means is, would you and Steve consider being godparents to our baby?”

“Is that even possible? You know we're not, like, a couple or anything. Isn’t it too early to do this sort of thing? You only found out a couple of weeks ago, you said so yourself!” Robin babbles

But before Robin can babble anymore Steve speaks over her with tears brimming in his honeyed hazel eyes.

“Don’t listen to her, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. We’d be honoured to.” Steve manages to get out as he wipes away the tears gathering in his lashes.

“Well that went better than I could have imagined.” Eddie said with a smile. “Didn’t bet on you crying so much though, Harrington.”

“Crying? Who’s crying? Not me, this is just..uh..allergies…shut up..” Steve sniffles.

“Well it’s nice to know that our baby’s godfather is already so emotionally invested in them.” you laugh softly.

Resting a gentle hand on the almost unnoticeable curve of your belly, you can’t help the warmth that floods your heart. Even though your baby hadn’t been born yet, you knew that they were already going to be so loved by everyone around them.

As Eddie strolled into work the following morning, he’s greeted by Randy who was turning the garage’s oil-stained radio down as he came in.

“Your old man told me your girl’s got a bun in the oven,”

“News travels fast around these parts, huh.” Eddie nods, reaching for his toolbox sitting on his work bench. 

Laying a clap to Eddie’s shoulder, Randy fixes him with a stare, his forehead wrinkling as he  raises his dark eyebrows.

“Good fuckin’ luck Munson, you’re gonna need it.”

@penguinsandpotterheads @aphrogeneias @mrsjellymunson

@eddiesxangel @ali-r3n @seatnights

@munsonsbtch @keeksandgigz

[scar-lie]

Omega Pt. 2 [Natasha]

Summary : After Y/N’s heat, Natasha left her alone on her bed

Pairing : Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warning : Yelling, curse word

Word Count : 1,531

A/N : This part is requested on my wattpad account

{OMEGA PT. 1} {OMEGA PT. 2} {OMEGA PT. 3}

No one has permission to repost my work anywhere, if you see it let me know.

Your little heart starts to hurt again; it just keeps breaking every damn minute of the day that it hurts so much. You cry in your bed, the bed you share with your Alpha, where her smell is still lingering in the pillow, blanket, sheets, and around the room

It hurt to keep you reminded of her in this room from the best day of your life—the day she claimed you and you claimed her—from the day she turned you down, and now you're here alone again, in your house and in your own bedroom

You remember every second of that day, 1 month ago, every word, their faces, and how her eyes burned you. How could you forget it? It's the day your mate, your Alpha, rejected you as her Omega, and it's already lingering in your head

You woke up with a smile on your face and stretched your limb, then reached out to your left side of the bed just to find an empty, cold sheet. You frowned, looking at the empty space besides you

The sadness is starting to creep up your spine, and your heart is getting torn apart a little by the thought of your Alpha leaving you, but you took deep breaths, thinking of a possible reason why your Alpha isn't in the bed with you

Maybe she's in the bathroom, maybe showering or peeing—no, that's impossible; the shower isn't on, and neither is the light—or maybe she's downstairs in the kitchen making breakfast—that's impossible too; you know that your Alpha can't cook even a single egg—

Maybe she just went outside to buy something—maybe food? or things? or whatever, but you decided to wait for her

While waiting, you get up and do your morning routine, going down to make breakfast since you're hungry. You've been in heat for 3 days, 3 days in bed with your Alpha, and 3 days since you ate food properly, so you're pretty starving

After that, you sat down on the sofa with a book in your hand—the book you were reading before you went into heat; you're almost at the halfway point of the book

And then you wait and wait and wait until it's near midnight, and your Alpha still hasn't come back to you; she didn't even leave a message, let alone reply or answer you

This broke your heart, so you decided to just sleep it off before you became an emotional wreck. That means you will cry, and you can't afford to do that, not after your heat. You're pretty dehydrated after the heat, so you need every drop of water in your body

But the next day is still the same; there is no Natasha Romanoff in your house, so you decide to pay her a visit in the compound, talk to her, and just be with your Alpha, so that's what you do

Going to the compound with Mac and Cheese for your best friend Yelena, who's Natasha's sister, and Lasagna for the rest of the team

You happily drove to the compound from your house that day because you were going to see your Alpha, and gosh, were you excited? Hell yeah, you're beyond excited to see your mated Alpha since after your heat

"Y/N?"  You smiled when you heard Yelena's voice once you got inside the compound

"Lena, hi," you say and smile at her and hug her

"What are you-Wait," she said when we pulled away, but she stopped when her eyes landed on your neck, where my Alpha Mark is

"You're—oh my god, you're a mated Omega now." Her jaw drops, and she tries to rub the mark away, but you giggle and gently push her

"I am," you confirm, making her eyes pop out

"WHO!" she screamed in shock. You just shake my head

"Natasha....." If she was shocked earlier, now you think she lost her mind

"Wha-" You use this opportunity to slip away while she's in her shocked state and go to Nat's office, knocking on her door

You waited and waited until you heard footsteps, so you stood up straight and wore your sweetest smile until she opened the door

"Hi! I missed you," you told her, and you kissed her cheeks, but she didn't move or show any emotion; she just stood there, looking at you with her stone-cold eyes and expression

"Nat, are you okay?" You asked her and proceeded to touch her forehead to see if she had a fever or something, but before your hand could touch her face, she swatted it away, glaring at you in a way that made you feel so small, so you swallowed the lump on your throat

"What are you doing here?" She asked you in her monotone voice, which makes you scared of her. Sure, you both were friends before, and now she's your mate, but you've never encountered her being like this, and this makes you scared of her

"I'm here to bring you.. food and the team.. you didn't come back yesterday," you stutter, fidgeting with the paper bag holder while looking down, afraid to look at her eyes

"Throw it away," she said, and she proceeded to slam the door in your face, but she stopped in her tracks when you called her

"But Alpha..." You shut up when she gives you a death stare

"I'm not you're fucking Alpha, understand!" She said it with her gritted teeth while towering over your small figure

"But, but... you are my Alpha... you claimed me," you whisper, lips quivering

"No, you're not. Listen to me carefully, you slut; I am not your Alpha and will never be; that mark on your neck doesn't mean anything; I'm in a rut at that time and I will not willingly want to claim you; you're just a piece of shit." You look down; tears are already coming down your cheeks from your eyes, but you try to stop them from falling

"I don't want to do anything with you; I don't want you to be my omega; I don't want to have a family with you; I don't want to have pups with you. I am not your Alpha." She said the last six words with anger and hatred while gripping your checks together in one hand and making you look at her

"And for the stupid mating mark, I want it gone!" your lips quivering and a few tears rolling down your cheeks

"Now fucking get your ass away from me," she threw your face to the side and slammed the door shut

With that, you sob, looking down while gripping the paper bag you're holding. You can't believe that she rejected you after just a few days of claiming you; now you're a used, rejected Omega

And in order to unmate her, it means getting as far away from each other as possible, which will cause pain or, at worst, death

You sniff, wiping your tears, and try to be strong and start to walk away from her office with a heavy heart, and that's when you saw her teammates, in the living room, minding their own business

"Y/N?" You look at the kitchen and see Wanda preparing to cook something for the team

"What are you doing here?" she asked as she put her apron on, so you smiled at her the best you could, and the team greeted you, so you returned the greeting

"I'm just here to drop this off," you say, lifting the paper bag in the air for everyone to see

"What is that?" Wanda asked, walking towards you

"Oh, uh, food. I decided to drop some food here," you whispered loudly enough for them to hear, and before Wanda asked you, she frowned, noticing your red nose and eyes

"Are you ok?" Wanda asked, and you just scoffed, waving your hand with a puff

"Yeah, here, everybody eat this food now before it gets cold," Wanda gives you a tight smile, as does the other team

"I'm going to go now, everybody, bye," you said, putting the paper bag at the top of the near cabinet, and before anyone can ask a question, you're already heading out

You sigh, so you get to your car quickly while in your own headspace; you didn't notice the voice calling you, Yelena, and you just drove home with a heavy heart

Since then, you never leave your house, not unless you need to get groceries or pay bills. Wanda and Yelena are constantly visiting, texting, or calling you, but you didn't respond to any of those. You keep the door shut when they're knocking on your door for hours, and you put our phone on silent

They are worried sick about you; since that visit, when you clearly did not look good, they have tried to reach out to both you and Nat to know what happened, but neither of you has answered them or the team

And it's been a week since you found out something you didn't expect to have; this only serves to remind you of what happened and what your life is now

[the-broken-truth]

Platonic Yandere Miguel O'Hara w/ Twin Brother Who's Had Enough With Him

Summary: You and Miguel O'Hara are twin brothers & The Leaders of the Spider-Society - more Miguel leading than you - but you also have a personal life that Miguel doesn't like. He constantly interferes with your life and you have had enough of him but will your elder brother let you cut him off?

"That's it! I've had enough of you, Miguel!" A very irate voice yelled out from the portal that formed in the Headquarters of the Spider-Society as Lyla watched from her projected body glowing gold - she watched as a towering figure, dressed in a Spider-Man Suit that was predominantly red with a black spider on the chest but no mask, revealing at face with brown skin, brown eyes, and dark brown hair that was neatly brushed and gelled back. He marched away from the portal with his fists balled and a glare on his face - he was rather pissed off and it looked like he was going to burst a gasket.

Soon after he arrived, another figure walked through the portal in a full suit with a mask that dematerialized in a technology like gleam - revealing a face just like the pervious male but with red eyes and rather messy dark brown hair. The second male - Miguel - walked over to the first male - [Name] - with his hands out in a defensive manner.

"[Name], please, I understand that you are upset at me but I did it for your own good." Miguel said as he placed a hand on [Name's] shoulder, causing the younger male to turn around and push Miguel away from him, causing the Elder Brother to stumble back but he didn't fall, just looked at his younger brother's pissed off face.

"You had the nerve to come to my house and disrespect my fiancée while I was away - for what reason, I don't know - but you had her leave the house and return to her parents' house and she hasn't come home since! You have been following me while we haven't been on duty and even during my missions, you come out of nowhere and steal my mission away from me when I'm supposed to be one of the leaders of the Spider-Society! You have been trying to control me ever since you lost your family but that doesn't mean that you have right to try to control me!" [Name] pointed at Miguel, whose red eyes were widened and sadness filled them but there was another emotion in his eyes that [Name] didn't see.

"I...I was trying to protect you; you don't need her, you have me, Little Brother." Miguel said as he walked over to [Name], who growled and him and turned away and walked out of the Spider-Society before shooting a web out and and taking the long route home, leaving Miguel alone with Lyla.

What's the situation that caused [Name] to get pissed off at his older brother? Well, let's take a walk down memory lane.

[About A Week Ago]

[Name] O'Hara was at the grocery store to get some things to make dinner - lasagna was one the menu per his fiancée's request - when he got call from the woman he loved more than anything in the world. He answered the phone and told her that he was going to be home in a few minutes but she told him that she was going to go home for a few weeks before hanging up the phone. [Name] was shocked at what she had before he turned the counter just in time to see his fiancée loading her luggage in the car and Miguel standing at the top of the stairs with his arms folded and a smirk of his face.

'What had Miguel done to Lydia?' [Name] thought as he pulled up behind Lydia's car, got out of his own and jogged over to her, asking her what was wrong but Lydia's words made his heart grow cold.

"I love you but until you deal with your brother, I don't think that I can be with you." Lydia said as she took off her engagement ring and placed in his hand before getting in her car and driving away, leaving a shocked and heartbroken [Name] standing there on the sidewalk while Miguel stood there, watching Lydia drive away. Once the woman was out of sight, Miguel walked down to his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder before asking what was for dinner.

The Nerve.

[Earlier that day]

[Name] was on Earth-159A dealing with an Anomaly when the Spiderverse Portal - as Miles called it - opened and Miguel ran out of the if and captured the creature before turning to his little brother, who was shocked and angry that Miguel got in his way once again. This was supposed to be his solo mission and he was more than capable to deal with it - Unlike Miguel, [Name] had Spider Powers from a Radioactive Spider Bite and he was stronger than Miguel in all aspects - by right and opinion of the other Spider-Men & Spider-Women, he should have been the Head Leader of the Spider-Society but since Miguel came up with the idea, [Name] thought it was only fear that he lead it. [Name] snarled at Miguel before walking to the portal and trying to calm his thoughts but Miguel's words were getting to him.

"You should be faster with dealing with these creatures."

"You're taking way too long with your missions."

"As Leader of the Spider-Society, I think it would be best if you stopped doing missions and remained at headquarters while I did the missions while you helped Lyla."

That's when you had enough of him.

"You?! Leader of the Spider-Society?! Have you forgotten that we started the Spider-Society together and I am the one with actual Spider-Powers while you have to inject yourself with Spider-DNA jus to keep yours?! How can you even call yourself a Spider-Man when you don't even have Spider-Sense?!" You roared at your brother, causing him to take a step back before the portal opened gain and you marched into the Spider-Society Headquarters with a growl in your throat and glare on your face.

[Now]

You were trying to call Lydia as you walked home in your casual clothes but she appeared to have blocked you and wasn't answering your hails. You exhaled and dropped your arm as you walked into your house, only to see Miguel sitting there in the dark with his eyes glowing, you glared at him.

"I have no tie to deal with you or your shit, Miguel, get the hell out of my house and leave me the hell alone." You demanded but he just stood up and slowly walked over to you.

"I am your older brother, you're supposed to listen to me without question, just like that whore of yours did when I told her to leave you alone and break off the engagement. I have been talking your disrespect for the longest of time and I shall not deal with it a second more; you are going to stop doing missions and work in the headquarters with Lyla, that's an order from your leader and elder brother." Miguel said with his eyes narrowed.

"You told Lydia to break off the Engagement with me?! That's why she left?! What the hell is wrong with you, Miguel?! Why are you trying to stop me from being happy?!" You demanded to know.

"YOU SHOULDN'T NEED HER TO BE HAPPY WHEN YOU HAVE ME! ALL YOU NEED IS ME, [NAME], AND I WILL STOP AT NOTHING TO MAKE YOU SEE YOU DONT NEED ANYONE ELSE BUT ME! NOW, WE ARE GOING TO THE SPIDER-SOCIETY AND YOU ARE GOING TO...NGH!" You socked Miguel in the face before turning on your heel, running out the door, and hooting your webs to escape. Miguel wiped the blood from his lip and smirked, "A Game of Tag, Little Brother? Alright, I'm It."

[indigogvf]

Bottled up

Summary: Jake comforts you after a bad week at work.

Warnings: Crying? There’s no others that I can think of, just lots of comfort and fluff.

Word count: 1279

AN: Thanks for helping me decide which fic to do on my poll!! Im still gonna do the other two at some point, but Jake comfort was the winner so you’re getting this one first😁

Also, my requests are open!! I’d love to hear any ideas.

You just finished work, and you’re walking rather quickly to your car, whilst also desperately holding back tears to avoid your boss after he gave you a deadline for a presentation; a presentation he told you about yesterday. And the deadline is on Monday.

It’s Friday.

After the immense stress and pressure you’ve been holding in this week, it was safe to say you were now at your breaking point.

You practically threw yourself into your car as tears started streaming down your face, not wanting to catch the attention of any coworkers who might also be leaving. Everything that had even slightly upset or bothered you this week now seemed earth shattering as you finally let yourself feel all the emotions you’ve been pushing away. You were never one to talk about how you felt; you always felt as if no one really cared, or that you were being a burden. Everyone has their own stuff going on, why do they need yours to think about too?

You pulled up in the driveway, taking a deep breath before getting out of your car and making your way to the house. You walked in, chucking your keys on the side table and hanging your coat up. “Jake, I’m home.” You called out. You walked through to the kitchen to see where he was after you heard no response, and found him cutting up some type of vegetable, which you couldn’t quite see because he was in the way. “Hey. What are you making?” You questioned.

“Hey, honey. I’m making lasagna for dinner. I know it’s your favourite, and I wanted to do something nice for you.” He smiled. You took a deep breath, not wanting to start up the waterworks for the second time. He was so good to you.

“Oh. That’s very thoughtful of you, Jake. Thank you.” You returned his smile as he pulled you in for a sweet little kiss. “I’m gonna head upstairs and take a shower.” You began walking away,

“Wait!” He called, “How was work?”

You were really hoping you’d dodged that question.

“Uh.. yeah, it was fine.” You briskly walked away, desperately trying to avoid any further questions.

You failed.

“Just fine? Are you sure?” He paused for a moment, awaiting your response. When you hesitated, he continued. “You’ve been a little off with me this week.. have I done something wrong? Is there something going on elsewhere that’s bothering you?”

Fuck.

You hate this. You almost hate yourself for this. You’ve been pushing him away all week, attempting to avoid this exact conversation. As much as you want to just curl up on the couch with him and bathe in his love and affection, you knew yourself too well. You knew you’d crack and end up crying to him about how stressed you’ve been, which is exactly what you want to avoid. You hate that you’ve made him feel like he’s done something wrong. You can feel your lip quivering as you hold back your tears for the second time since you’ve come home. “I’m sorry. I.. I just-“ aaaand here it comes.

You put your head in your hands as you start bawling, trying to conceal the fact that you’re most definitely not okay. Although you think it’s fairly obvious, because Jake rushes over to you, embracing you in a tight hug as your body shakes against his. “Hey, it’s okay. Shhh. Just let it all out,” He says softly into your ear whilst gently stroking your hair. “Talk to me, baby. What’s going on?” He prods.

You collect yourself, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself enough to explain yourself. “I’m sorry for pushing you away all week. You didn’t do anything, I’ve just had a week from hell. I didn’t want to be a burden to you so I just kept it to myself, but I knew if you were to ask about my day, I’d crack.” You mumbled, feeling slightly ashamed because saying it out loud makes you feel slightly pathetic.

“What makes you think you can’t talk to me? You can always talk to me - about anything. I want to be there for you, honey. But I can’t if i don’t know when there’s something bothering you. Your problems will never burden me, I promise. Now, tell me what happened.” He reassures you, still giving gentle strokes across your hair.

You knew your thought process was slightly unnecessary when it came to Jake. He’s never made you feel like you can’t talk to him; in fact, you know you can talk to him. You assume it was from when you were a teenager and your two friends ignored you for being upset, and then proceeded to tell you it was draining to be around you. You’re glad that Jake shows you nothing of the sort.

“Well, on Monday, there was four clients who phoned and screamed at me down the phone for the way that their previous issues were handled. I didnt even deal with their original complaints. On Tuesday, my boss called me for a meeting about those calls and basically questioned my ability to do my job, despite the fact that I told him multiple times I didn’t handle their original complaints. On Wednesday, my coworker shouted at me in front of the entire office about how i didn’t send him some documents he needed, even though he didn’t tell me about them. On Thursday I split my coffee on my cream coloured jumper and had to walk around with a giant stain down my chest. Today, my boss gave me a deadline for a presentation. He told me about the presentation on Thursday, and the deadline is on Monday.” You took a breath, feeling like you were suffocating because of how quickly and passionately you listed all of the problems of the week.

“Oh, love. I’m sorry. You don’t deserve to be treated this way. You’re always working so hard, it’s a shame they can’t see that. Have you thought about working somewhere else? You deserve to be respected and seen for your work, and I don’t think you’re going to get that at this company.” He spoke in the most delicate voice.

You thought for a moment, contemplating his suggestion of getting a new job. “I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about that; but I think you might be right.” You replied.

Jake pulled you closer to him, placing your head on his chest. “You know you can always talk to me, don’t you?” He asked.

“I do. I guess I just overthink it sometimes.” You said, reassuring him.

“Do you promise you’ll talk to me next time?” He held his pinky finger out.

“I pinky promise, Jake.” You shook his pinky as you smiled at each other.

He pulled you in for a gentle kiss to your lips and then planted kisses around your face, leaving an extra big one on your forehead. You giggled in response, already feeling much better.

“Why don’t we eat our lasagna and try to come up with some solutions that might make your work easier, and then cuddle on the couch with a movie on in the background, hm? That sound good, pretty girl?” He suggested.

“Mmm, that sounds amazing. Thank you, Jake. I love you.” You nuzzled your head into his chest. You could hear his heartbeat gently thumping in your ear.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He placed a kiss on your head whilst simultaneously giving you a tight squeeze.

You loved him so much, it was almost too much. But you especially loved how loved he made you feel.

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Date Night

"Hey- You listening?" My date snapped her fingers in front of me, tearing my gaze away from it. For a brief moment I couldn't remember her name, then it came to me.

"Sorry, Frances. Didn't mean to doze off like that," I said sheepishly. "So… you were saying?"

Frances reclined back, seemingly mollified. "Well, Miriam had to run around telling everyone about Henrietta's boyfriend, so Mirabelle and I teamed up to stop her from running her mouth. But could you believe it…" 

"Yep, I'm sure," I said idly, tuning her words out. Goodness, that woman ran her mouth like nobody's business. She was pretty enough to make up for it, a bombshell blonde with baby blue eyes. I had met her on a dating app. She was the bubbly, romantic sort, going so far as to call herself a 'witch', as if she had any real power. Not the brightest bulb in the box, naturally, but I had always had a thing for bimbos. That cane of hers was a deal-breaker, though. I couldn't be seen dating a cripple, after all.

"Ugh, I know right?! Like, how could she say such things about poor Glendy! It makes my blood boil just thinking about it, you know you know?! That's why I think Mitchell was so brave to stand up for her…"

Something brushed against my bare, exposed throat, and I jolted away, standing up and turning around sharply. But it was only an elderly woman in a bright pink scarf, shuffling to her seat. "So sorry for starting you, dearie," she purred, settling down. "Really, I ought to be more careful."

I nodded placatingly. "Sorry about that, ma'am," I said, nodding my head in apology. The hunger made me skittish. We were at a cosy little Italian restaurant, newly opened and barely occupied.

"Goodness, you're really anxious!" Frances tittered. "Say? Where's our food? I think I need to go call and talk to the waiters at this point." She waved her arm about, trying to catch the attention of the waiters. From the corner where we sat, I caught sight of three of them, heads bowed in some sort of conversation.

None of them looked up. The restaurant was practically empty, and I understood why. Who would want to go to a place with such poor service? They had yet to greet the old lady next to me. "I'll deal with this," I told Frances, and got up ready to give them a piece of my mind. 

Pushing my chair back, I strode purposefully over to the waiters. "Hey, we ordered a lasagna, a risotto, two white wines and a bread basket twenty minutes ago! Where the hell's our food?"

They didn't look up, and I suddenly felt a rush of rage. "Didn't you hear what I just said? I want to speak to your manager now!" The nerve of them, to ignore a paying customer. Had they even conveyed my order to the kitchen? I took one step closer until I was glaring at the back of a dark haired waiter's head. Fed up with him, I grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. "Don't play dumb-"

He was watching me with no eyes. His face was nothing more than a smooth plateau, devoid of emotion. Yet I had the distinct feeling that he saw me, that he was staring at me, and most of all, that he was angry.

It occurred to me that I might have made a significant error. An error so significant that it might cost me my life. I took two steps away, releasing the faceless waiter from my grasp. "My bad, boys," I said, raising my hands in surrender. "I won't bother you again, eh? Take your time with the lasagna."

The other two waiters looked up, and I swear I saw a twitching of the cheeks that signalled a grin. I turned and fled, only to run right into the old lady. "Run, somethings really wrong with the waiters!" I grabbed her wrist, but something held me right there. I turned around.

The old lady grinned at me, revealing far too many rows of needle-sharp teeth. Her scarf wrapped itself about me like furry pink tentacles, constricting my chest and making my head spin. "What a nice youngster you are," she purred, grasping my arms with bloodied, tetanus-ridden claws. "Looking after an old lady like that, hmm? Why, I could just eat you up!"

Her jaws unclicked, and I gagged on the rotten stink of her breath. They expanded, and I found myself staring down the deep abyss of her oesophagus. I was going to die here, I realised dismally. I was going to die because I went on a stupid date at this miserable restaurant.

And then I wasn't. A small, manicured hand pulled me back, and I found myself wedged into the not-insignificant bosom of Frances. She bore a look of complete, utter disgust. "Let go of my date, skinwalker," she snapped. "This one's mine!"

"Frances, run! Don't try to fight that thing," I urged, trying to hurry her along. I hooked my arm around hers and picked her up, only to get a snack on the head for my troubles.

"Put me down, you idiot! Didn't you hear a word I said?" She glared at me ferociously. "I'm a witch, bitch! And I can take a skinwalker. Now get behind me, you nitwit, and stop pretending to be so macho." For once, I did as she told me to, and ducked behind a table. This was way out of my paygrade.

The skinwalker — if that was what the old lady really was — laughed at Frances. "Little witch, do you really think you can def-" Frances smacked the skinwalker with her cane, cutting off its words. It was almost comical, in a horrible way, to see her stare down a monster twice her size.

She grabbed the coat of the skinwalker and pulled it down. With her other palm, she whipped out her lipstick and sketched a strange symbol on its forehead. "Yes," she said triumphantly, as the skinwalker thrashed and screamed in her iron grip, "I totes think I can beat you."

The three waiters exchanged glances with each other, then made a run for the door. Smoothly, Frances capped her lipstick and pulled out a dagger. She threw it expertly at the dark haired waiter, who was almost at the door. The waiter went down like a stone, hitting the floor with a too-loud thump. The other two followed suit soon after.

Almost as an afterthought, Frances pulled out a tiny, pink handgun and shot the skinwalker in the back of the head twice, then did the same for the twitching waiters. "Ugh, I bet Miriam sent those summonings after me," she said casually, turning to me. "She's always so jealous of the guys I pull, you know you know? I kept telling her she's such a red flag, and you know- she kinda needs to change and get a glowup, but does she listen? No, of course not! Who listens to little Frances, am I right?"

I stared blankly at her, then nodded obediently. "Err," I started, trying to arrange my thoughts into coherence, "Thanks for the save earlier, and I'm really sorry for not listening to you, you know?"

Frances beamed at me and leaned over on her cane, dripping monster blood onto my shirt. "Aww, you're so sweet! I'm just glad you're not the sort who can't deal with a girl being stronger than them, you know you know?" She skipped over to the waiters and pulled out the daggers, which I noted to be decorated in eye-wateringly cutesy stickers. "Look, can I invite you over to my place? It won't be nearly as good as here, but I've got some microwave lasagna?"

The sheer hope on her face, and the fact that she had just single handedly taken down the stuff of my nightmares, meant I really couldn't say no.

(A short story I wrote about one of the characters of my novel, Frances! And yes, her taste in men is terrible.)

Taglist:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch @ramwritblr, @urnumber1star, @fortunatetragedy, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finicky-felix, @evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou, @dimitrakies, @beloveddawn-blog

@riveriafalll, @the-golden-comet, @rascaronii, @trippingpossum, @real-fragments

@xenascribbles,

(Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

Lady Celestine... do you know about the Arthurs from the other AUs does it bother you?

Sir Arthur: It's good that you bequeathed the name "Wart" to me long ago... Now I can be told apart from all the other Arthurs~

Lady Celestine: It's the gift that keeps on giving Wart~

(Celty getting all the forehead kissies)

@kirbyoctournament

The whole "Wart" & "Merlyn" nickname started out as a gag/reference (when I was originally writing their relationship ). Then this whole name scheme became layered like a dang lasagna... it became emotionally meaningful.

My Wart: You can be & and deserve to be loved "warts and all"

My Merlyn: You're amazing & incredible, just the way you are.

I'm bringing the feel train up next week be prepared~

~

And anon thank you for the question~ Though admittingly I wasn't sure if you were referring to the evil Sir Arthurs out there (sounded like it)... or that there are other versions of Sir Arthur in general. (So I did an all-encompassing answer, hope that's enough~)

~

And I'm not gonna lie... I love me some corrupt evil / morally grey Sir Arthur shout out to @galapathy, @zombiecicada, @thewinterraven

Great fantastic with their Sir Arthurs be zesty, & spicy in all the right ways! (STICK IT TO THE GREEN MAN~) And guys let me know if there are any others, I'd like to know more please~

Shout out to some other incredible & fleshed out takes on Sir Arthur:

@quanblovk, @doggirling, @deafeninggardenerpanda

For those who don't know in the original draft, Srir Arthur was supposed to be the villain in the series. (or the surprise villain so to speak~) However, once the rewrite happened and created Sir Uther in the au...all his evil went into him. But I wanted to "have my cake and eat it too..." so Sir Arthur (or Young Arthur) is a redeemed baddie~

And now "he's a certified good bean"

I took this one character from the Kirby anime who only had less than 5 minutes of screen time and gave him a convolutedly long and heartbreaking backstory just for the sake of bridging the "Kirby game verse" & " Kirby anime verse together" and to prequel all the events of the anime:

JUST FOR THE SAKE OF WORLD-BUILDING & EMOTIONAL STORYTELLING TO MAKE THE PEOPLE FEEL!

I'm not saying the power of love "fixed" him or anything; Arthur was always good at heart but his talents were being used by a truly rotten man who was snuffing the light out of him for his own selfish and nefarious purposes... lost his way~ (nearly became a mini Uther~)

Celestine didn't just save Arthur; Arthur saved Celestine as well~

(also this is why it took me so long Lady Celestine up until this point because writing romance is tough, and I wanted to create a truly wholesome & balanced relationship between the two of them. )

I'm really going to be getting into the meat & potatoes of their relationship. And hopefully, by the end, you will all fully understand why they love each other... I've been saving a lot of Celarthur content that's laid dormant in my deck.

Now that week 3 of the Kirby OC Tournament is on the horizon... I believe the time has come to pull out all the Aces in my hand and get you all emotionally invested... I hope you are all willing to ride this wave with me~

And cry a bucket of tears with me, look forward to it!

[yeahprobablyamimic]

because! i! can! the dads! fatal! flaws! (major season 1 spoilers )

darryl is loyal to a fault. This is something we've known since the very very first episode. The charleston chews? the unexplainable emotional attachment to a candy his dad liked years ago? his choosing them over a honest relationship with his wife? he accidentally betrays every person in his life trying to be loyal to them. He lies to carol and goes to bars in the morning to watch soccer to support Grant. He lies to Grant about his relationship with Carol and then makes his son distrust him even more. He tried to set up Yeet and Grant only to sabotage his relationship with Grant in the process. He tries his best but goes about it the wrong way every single fucking time. without fail, literally. But he keeps trying, because those relationships mean more to him than anything else ever possibly could

henry i think is unable to comprehend malicious intent. He was the first one to point out to ron, "Willie is still your father", and i don’t think he can truly realize that people at their core can be evil. He tries his best but he overdoes it most of the time. Yeah his dad was a piece of shit too, but he found a healthy loving relationship with Mercedes almost immediately as he came out of the forgotten realms, and didn't even remember the abuse and scrutiny he faced there for a looong time. He sees his boys fight and genuinely harm each other (and trees around them) but can only ever see it as playful fighting. he forgives and forgets too easily and its what led him to be stabbed by lark in the final episode of season 1- and he STILL forgives lark almost immediately

glenn. glenn has this overwhelming need to be liked. It’s why he smokes weed with his son (he has to be the cool dad) it’s why he became a artist (no one can feel too depressed over their dead wife when a crowd is clapping for them) it’s why he's the first one to make a joke out of the situation. If people are laughing with you, they cant feel sorry for you. If he can make people laugh, they'll think hes funny. chill. a normal guy not fucking terrified of driving on highways. not someone who lost his wife to a car crash he blames on himself. He’s the funny one. The cool one. The one that everyone likes. He can't take anything seriously because no one likes a serious guy. They like the fun loving, weed smoking, rock band artist persona he puts on.

Ron is hyper independent when it comes down to it. The first time Samantha makes dinner for him when he gets home late from work he freezes. Did he do something wrong? Is he allowed to eat it? What is she trying to get him to do? Is she breaking up with him? He panics and just kinda freezes until she explains to him that she just got off early and was craving lasagna. It took ron months to figure out how to make multiple serving meals. He was so used to microwave dinners and dry cereal that he didn’t really know people would make each other food just cause they loved him 

[capitano-marina]

cannot remember if left this here already, if I did sorry for the repeat.

top 5 Marina moments (and why?)

Hello anon!

I got this ask before but only for season 6 so now we can talk in general 😂

Top 5 marina scenes:

5- 6x10 the power of lasagna.

It was everything!!!!!!! The chemistry between these two is insane!! Maya rushing to Carina not thinking about anything but her wife, not hesitating to stay putting her wife first (she always did) but actually showing up for her 🥺 just perfect again them alone in their own bubble and THE FOREHEAD KISS!!!!!.

"Thanks for coming" - Carina

"Thanks for letting me in" - Maya

4- 5x01 The Dance.

It shows how powerful their chemistry is! Without saying a single word just their eyes says it all. With just one look Maya felt safe to finally breakdown in her wife’s arms.

3- 6x15 You are the person I wanted to call.

Carina being afraid to get hurt again even though she misses and loves Maya, to Maya apologizing and holding her felt like big hug to the fans telling them everything will be okay as long as they are by each other’s side.

2- 7X05 family scene.

I just love how emotional, soft and beautiful it is, from Maya worrying about Her two babies to Carina telling her she can’t get pregnant, it’s so beautiful to see Maya’s growth from someone that didn’t want to be in a monogamous relationship to wanting a family. bonus points to Baby Liam because he is the cutest also have you seen The white shirt on Maya 🫠

1- 5x17 Maya coming home.

This scene will forever have special place in my heart they are so domestic here 🥺 it’s just them and no one else i don’t even know how to explain how much i love this scene.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Through The Heart Is The Only Way. Chapter Ten: "Getting Better All The Time." Poly!Chiffany X FEM! AFAB! Reader.

Okay! Here it is! Chapter fucking ten at long last. So I hope everyone loves this, shit is getting serious in a lot of ways. Just wait for shit to pick up after this one because it is about to go off. I’d looove to see ChatGTP do something like this but we all know that it is incapable. Either way, I adore this fic, it’s my baby, I am obsessed with it, this has some moments in it that I have had planned since the fic was in the planning stages. Masterlist for the whole series here. Shoutout to @eggsandbeer for the proofread on this and betaing it. Enjoy!

—

Rating. Somewhat NSFW. Length. 6.6K. Charles Lee Ray X Tiffany Valentine X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Softness. Fluff. Mentions Of Sex. Emotional Closeness. Cunnlingus. Smoking. Drinking. Serious Emotional Developments. Mentions Of Murder. 

—

Why did the lasagna she made earlier taste even better when reheated? Was it that you were that hungry or was it the fact that Tiffany is the one currently feeding it to you while you are post sex and still in the warm sheets of her and Chucky’s bed that made it so delicious? You did not know and you did not care, you found that to be the trend when you were with them. 

“You have to show me how to make this.” You sighed with your hand over your mouth, trying to still be polite even with the bite she fed you, leaning back against the headboard of the bed.  

She is leaning against Chucky, her head on his shoulder, you take them in at this moment, they look so right next to each other, the easy physical contact between the pair is second nature. Tiffany responds to you, “Name the time and place.” 

“So you were serious about your offer before?” You inquired and she gave a questioning look before you filled in the blank, “When you said you would show me how to cook?” 

She sounded slightly confused, “I said show you some recipes but don’t you know how to cook? You made us that great dinner.” 

“Yeah, those burgers were fucking good.” Chucky affirmed with a nod and you looked away, “Welll-...I’m not that great at cooking, I know how to make like five things, I eat out and do takeout the rest of the time, I don’t have that many skills in the kitchen. But I’d really like to get better.” 

Tiffany’s hand landed on your knee, your eyes drop to the new point of touch before looking up to see that she leaned closer and said, “Oh sweetheart, c’mon we all have gaps in places, if you didn’t have someone to take the time to show you, how would you ever know?”

She was so impossibly sweet. A soft smile creeps onto your face as you respond, “You make a good point.”

“So it’s settled, I’ll show you how to cook.” 

She said it like it was the easiest thing in the world, with a casual shrug. You couldn’t wait. 

When you all did settle down for sleep it wasn’t like a typical sleepover. No talking in the dark for hours, you were all beat, their bed was comfortable, on top of that you felt so safe, you passed out between the pair of them sometime around four in the morning. You didn’t wake up until a while after noon, the start of the morning, or afternoon rather, was slow. You weren’t in a rush to get out of bed, you didn’t have anywhere to be for hours yet. Once you were all aware of being awake you managed to get even closer together. You didn’t know that being in bed like this, squished between two people could feel so fucking good, it doesn’t feel claustrophobic or uncomfortable or too hot, you just feel embarrassingly and overwhelmingly happy. 

You all move slowly. 

No real rush. You didn’t have work for hours yet, not till tonight, and intended to soak up this last bit of time with them. Chucky is brushing his teeth and you are sitting on their bed while Tiffany is perched in front of her vanity, brushing her hair and she breaks the comfortable silence to suggest, “How about we all go out for breakfast?”

Sounded perfect to you and the pleased hum of agreement that comes from the bathroom tells you that he thinks so too.

You get in your jeans and Tiffany offers you a shirt, you all get your stuff together and around a half hour later are stepping out of their apartment building into the warm sunlight. The storm is definitely over but Christ the city got dumped on hard, piles of snow everywhere, the snowplows still hadn’t caught up even though it is almost one p.m. There was, of course, only one option of where to go to eat. 

The diner you love, the one near your work, that same one that you ran into them that rainy night and they invited you to stay and talk. It wasn’t busy at the moment, you end up in that same booth, both of them on the other side and you across from them just like before, you had the coats piled on the seat next to you, menus in hand and coffee in mugs, more awake as you talk about what to get. You know you look a bit ridiculous, the smile just will not leave your face but you are too happy to care. 

You think you might have ordered a little too much, the table is practically covered between the plates of food, mugs of coffee and glasses of juice. You wanted sweet but also craved something more savoury so compromise was made. You all got your own more traditional meals, bacon, eggs, hash browns but got a big plate of the small stack of pancakes to split. 

The mood is light and seemingly brightening, Chucky doesn’t seem like much of a morning person but with coffee and food he seems to be much more present, Tiffany also seems to be in better spirits. They both got their eggs the same way as that previous night, his over easy, hers scrambled with chives, she prefers white toast, he takes rye and you like learning all these small details that help make them, them. The tiny things that they like and dislike, that you come to know through spending ample time with someone or in their case, someone’s.

“So what are the best pancakes?” You asked as you were cutting into the one you’d just hauled onto your plate, and Chucky answers easily, “Chocolate chip.” 

“Really?” You asked and he hums, “I don’t always want something sweet but when I crave it I want it really sweet.” 

“Fair enough and you?” The question is posed to Tiff and she says, “Plain jane, butter and syrup is enough.” 

You told her with a smile, “Weak answer. I expected better of you.” 

She quirked a brow at your teasing, responding with, “Yet we got the plain and you’re busting my balls.”  And you tell her, “Blueberry is clearly the best, when the berries are in season it is divine but sadly, tragically they are-”

“Out of season, yeah I get you. So you’re stuck with subpar cakes, how terrible.” She reaches across the table and holds your hand and you sigh, “Right? I am so hard done by.” 

Chucky was cutting into his eggs as he said with a smile, “Poor thing. You should kiss that frown right off her face.” 

If only you weren’t in public then she could, she lets go of your hand and picks up her knife and fork again. 

“I am shocked he doesn’t pull that card more often.” Tiffany said and you responded before you take a sip of your coffee, “I think it might get worse now that he’s fucked me.” 

“Think?” Tiffany questioned and you laughed and he glanced around as he said, “Ignoring how mean you both are to me-” once sure no one in the place was looking or listening he was leaning closer over the table and he said quieter, “-how fun was last night?”

“Oh my God.” Tiffany put down her silverware a little too loudly and you nearly dropped your mug at the flood of memories as well as how candid he was being, your response leaves you hushed and quickly as you reply, “Unreal. I am pretty sure if we filmed and tried to sell it we might never have to work again.” 

“Wow one time in and she’s ready to be a porn star, you know how to pick em Chucky.” He fires back at her, “Like you weren’t loving seeing her and I fuck.” 

“Oh no I was very, very into it.” She admitted and you bite your bottom lip for a moment and nod, “Yeah Tiff we both felt how wet you were, we know.”  

This was great. Being able to go out and quietly but openly talk about how great the sex you had with them last night in hushed tones over plates of bacon and eggs is fantastic, it’s needed and thoroughly exciting.

You paid for breakfast since Tiffany made dinner last night and you all end up outside the place saying good-bye. They were lighting up for their first smoke of the day, post meal, and Chucky said on an exhale of smoke, “Great time last night, can’t wait to do it again.” 

“Me either. Wish we could keep hanging out but I have to go return these tapes and do some stuff before work.” You explained and Tiffany waved you off, “No worries, we’ll see you soon. I’ll get that shirt back from you one way or another.” 

“You’ll have to steal it off my back.” You tell her with a wave. 

“Tempting, tempting.” Tiffany said and Chucky chimed in and you hear him asking her as you break off, “I get a front row seat, right?” 

You laugh with a shake of your head as you head into the opposite direction, you return those video tapes, you have a shower, get ready for work and have as good a shift as you can.

Things with them just got so much better, it really felt like that sleepover brought you much closer together. 

They visit you more often at work again, you have dates here and there. You have planned dates and short spur of the moments that you carve out in busy schedules to show how important you all are to each other as well as being able to just satisfy those needs to spend time together. Some of these dates included more dinners out, grabbing coffee, another movie here and there and of course, enjoying the new expanded physical aspects of your relationship immensely. 

You are happier than you thought possible, you didn’t think you needed a serious romantic attachment like this, assumed you were content as is but this isn’t the first time that you were wrong about something. You are deep in the honeymoon period of dating them and intend on just soaking it up. 

It had been about three weeks since that first sleepover and there hadn’t been another one yet but you didn’t mind that at all, things had been a little hectic and you had seen them more than enough to make up for it. You even had some fantastic solo dates with them one on one which were really great. You loved spending time together but appreciate that you could spend time with just one of them and there were no weird feelings or jealousy. Being able to get together with just two of you was easier at times than being able to get all three of you in the same place, you are glad that you all were on the same page, if you only saw them when you could be a trio you would see them much less. 

You had that solo date with Tiffany about a week and a half after your sleepover. She and Chucky had stopped by your work for a drink and after you set down her glass she took your hand before you could pull it away and said, “I love your nails. Where do you get them done?” 

The current colour was a good one, you had painted them this adorably soft glittery kind of blush pink, nail ends longer and rounded, they were shiny and bright. You painted them last week and liked how they looked against the darker uniforms you usually wore for work along with the harsher make-up, the dichotomy was fun. “I paint them myself.”

Her jaw drops, she brings your hand up closer, inspecting your fingers more carefully and said, “No way! These are like salon quality! Like I thought this was a professional manicure.” 

You respond to her, smiling warmly, “Tiffany, Jesus that is so sweet, you mean it?” 

“I do! You totally have to do mine!” Her eyes were bright, her smile big and her hands felt so soft as they held yours, you tell her, “I’d love to.” 

So a date was made that night. Chucky encouraged it heavily since he had something to do and the next day Tiffany was coming to your apartment after lunch for a little spa date in. You let her in and soon you are sitting at the kitchen table, nail kit out, radio on and she sat with you as you began to scrub the old colour off her nails, “This is so nice, I was going to go pay for a manicure this week but now you are saving me some money.” 

“About time after how much you and Chuck spend on me.” You tease as you remove the deep purple and she asks, “So where did you learn to do this?”

“Self taught. I love having nice nails, I think it makes a good impression, I love how they make me feel, so I thought instead of spending money I thought why not do it myself?” 

“I love that.” She said it so sincerely and this was lovely. Having her alone in your place, doing one of your favourite things, is there a better way to spend an afternoon? She leaned over, she kissed you and your fingers stopped working for a moment as you returned it, leaning over, kissing her deeper, revelling in it before she moved back, breaking it. You have her nails clean and you are shaping them with a nail file and asked, “What colour are you thinking of?”

“I am considering black.” You hummed, you thought of her with sharp shiny onyx nails and it is a good look, you nod and agree with her, “I think that would look great.” 

You focused on filing and a comfortable silence fell over you both. Your mind however was still whirring and running, you had been getting into this habit ever since that sleepover, you started to feel more comfortable overall and would ask them questions about the relationship Chucky and Tiffany had before you were in the picture. The questions were small and quick, posing them to her or him on occasion when they pop up, “When did you get together?” “What is the first meal you cooked for Chucky?” “How did you bond so quickly?”

You got satisfactory answers and they found it sweet you wanted to know, it had gotten to a point they were offering up some information on their own. Which led to this, to now, a break in the conversation, with you starting up the conversation by asking quietly, “Is there anything about Chuck you don’t know?”

“Oh I dunno, he has told me a lot but I don’t think I know everything, you however, still have so much to learn.” She muses and you ask with a small smile, “Yeah? Like what?

Her grin nearly splits her face, eyes full of mischief, she asks, “Are you trying to get me to tell all his secrets?”

“No, God no, not all of them, Tiff.” You tell her before asking, “How about you just start by telling me one?”

“Just one?” She asks and you nod, “Just one.”

“How am I supposed to pick?” She muses and you cut in, “How about your favourite one?” 

The look in her eyes shifts, she says, “I can do that.” She thinks, takes a moment and hums and then she says, “I got just the one.”

“Ooh this’ll be good.” You say mostly to yourself and she says, “You have no idea how good.” 

You finished filing, you were cleaning up and preparing to start painting her nails, “Well don’t keep me in suspense forever hon.” 

“I won’t! I’m just building tension.” She assures and after another beat she tells you, “He loves art.” 

That makes your eyebrows raise, “He loves art?”

“Loves it, more than that he is an artist himself, a painter mostly.” She says it so sincerely and you just have to believe her but still you question, “What does he paint?”

“Portraits, abstract, still life, fuck, almost anything and everything that strikes him just right.” She says and you say, genuinely surprised, “No fucking way.”

You love that, appreciate the fact she shared something so personal. “And how is he gonna feel about you sharing that?”

“He might not be the biggest fan but it will come out eventually, plus, I bet he will ultimately end up thanking me for it.”

“So confident.” You sigh as you shake the bottle of polish, she asks you, “Can you blame me?” 

“I can not.” You unscrew the cap of the polish and take her hand, and you say as you bring the brush down, “You know, I’m something of a painter myself.” 

She laughed, head tipping back as you start to paint, “Yeah you bring that up to him and I am sure he will find that hysterical.” 

Your conversation continues as you work, she tells you in soft tones about sweet things he had done, times he got her gifts, dates they had, intimate dinners, moments of tenderness and closeness and it makes you ache. You love what they have and adore that you get to be included and privy to this information. Your gaze moves up from painting her nails, taking in her expression as she has this heart wrenching gorgeous smile on her face, telling you about the time he managed to get her a reservation for a truly wonderful birthday dinner for her.

He makes her happy and that makes you happy too. 

Once they are done you are screwing the bottle top back on and telling her, “Right, they are done, tell me what you think.” 

She excitedly turned her hands over, fingers folded over to check them out up close and you watched the expression on her face shift, “Oh wow!”

“Good wow?” You ask and she scoffs, “Amazing wow.” 

You had to admit you were pretty proud of yourself. You went in really hard, sharpened the ends a touch, gave shape to her natural nails and the small slight sheen of glitter, very subtle, still didn’t go unnoticed by her. She flexed her fingers, watching how the light caught her nails at different angles and she said, “Seriously, you did it so quick too.”

True, less than an hour and her nails were good to go. “Now be careful with what you touch, they still need to dry properly.” 

“Terrible. I want to touch you.” That makes you pause from cleaning up your nail kit, your eyes flick to her and say carefully, “Well I guess you will have to wait.” 

She gets off her chair, starts to come around the table as she says, “Orrrr I could just not use my hands.” 

Now in front of you, bent at the waist, she kisses you and you return it easily before she starts to move, lips drag from your mouth to over the line of your jaw and down your neck. Head tipping back, you moan her name quietly at the affection, the quickness of the arousal sinking in, the heat she makes spark inside of you. Soon she is on her knees after having worked down your body, she is between your legs, cheek resting on your inner thigh and you got her hint. 

You assist her, strip what is needed and all too quickly you have a leg over one of her shoulders, her mouth working eagerly between your thighs and her hands holding yours, fingers laced together, showing off her pretty new manicure thanks to you. She is holding your hands for a few reasons, one, the added affection and closeness, and another, to keep her good and your hard work safe, otherwise she doubts she would be able to stop herself from touching you.

By the time she is leaving you are on cloud nine. The afternoon once her nails were dry and you both had cum at least twice you spent more time doing your little at home spa date, face masks and a shared bath and more, you feel relaxed and boneless as you lean against the door frame, clad in just a robe as you waved goodbye to her. 

You could get very, very used to solo dates with her, it was different than when you dated both of them at the same time but you liked the up close and personal look you got at her, how she acted just alone with you when he wasn’t there. 

Similarly when you were alone with him it was different but welcome. One night, a few days after your solo date with Tiffany, while you were at work he came in, she was apparently busy that night, he came by for some quality time, it was nice. When the place closed down, your duties finished and you managed to wiggle away from your coworkers you seek him out. He was waiting outside for you, a block over right where you told him to. He was leaning against the brick outside of a building, having a smoke and upon seeing you again he lights up, “There she is! Hey baby.”

You come up with a greeting of, “Hiya Chuck.” 

His hand that isn’t holding his smoke is gripping your hand and tugging you to him, he kisses you, it’s playful, you feel him smile against your lips and you return his kiss before pulling back, “Someone’s happy.” 

“I am! M’ happy and hungry too.” He was very tipsy from the drinks you’d served him, he had just thrown an arm around your shoulders and you asked him, “I could eat. So where are you thinking?”

“I dunno, you know this area well, any ideas?” He asked and you knew just the place, took him to that late night pizza place near your work you’d visited with your coworkers from time to time. 

Sitting at one of the two person tables at the back, a medium pizza to split and sodas you ask, “So you never said what is Tiffany getting up to tonight?”

“Ah nothing major, seein’ some friends of hers.” He said with a shrug. You wonder briefly if you will get to meet them and you asked, “And you didn’t want to go?”

“Nah she deserves some time alone with them and besides, I wanted to do this.” He said as he picked up a slice of pizza, “Do what?”

“This. Spend some time with you solo, Tiffany did and seemed like it was real nice.” He admitted and you asked, “She told you about it?”

“Yeah, filled me all in. Kept going on and on about how much she loved her nails.” He nodded before taking a bite, the rise of his eyebrows tattled on the fact that she told him about how she was on her knees in your kitchen. Your fingers were playing with the straw in your drink, “Did she tell you what she told me about you?”

He looks confused and asked after swallowing his current bite, “She told you somethin’ about me?” 

You figured she wouldn’t spill and you grin, “She did.” You let it hang for a moment and he said, “I hope it was good or flattering. Was it either of those things?” 

“Oh yeah I loved hearing it honestly. She told me that you like art, more than that, that you are an artist yourself.” He dropped his slice with a laugh, non greasy hand coming up to comb through his hair, “Christ Tiff, selling me out.” 

You laughed, “Awe, what? I think it’s great! Why didn’t you tell me yourself?” 

“S’ not something I talk about with just anyone, some people have given me shit over it previously, alright?” Fair enough. Again, you hid a pretty big thing and this was small in comparison. “I get that Chuck, but seriously, I’m not like them, you can talk to me about it.”

He looks you over, considering and he can’t help it, the smile comes back to his face and he sighs, “Fine, you’re right.” 

You appreciated his willingness and ability to be open with you. “How did it even come up, anyway?”

“I was asking her more stuff about you both before I came into the picture and she told me that.” 

“Is that all she said?” He asked and you told him, “No hardly, she told me about some dates you’ve had, sweet things you’ve said and done, she made you look really good.”

It is true. How she is around him, looks at him, speaks about him, makes you like him more, look at him in an even better light. “Well shit, I don’t wanna be left out, maybe I can tell you some stuff too.” 

That was a pleasant surprise. “Really? You are offering up information?” 

“I am. Maybe I’m a little too drunk but M’ in a good mood, so!” He clapped once before pointing at you, elbows resting on the table, leaning forward, “Fuck it. Ask away.” 

What to ask him? You had no idea how long this deal would be good for. Maybe he is just willing to be this open because of the amount of drinks he choked down earlier, you should take advantage of this. The idea strikes like lightning and you ask, “She told me about some dates you’ve had, but I am curious, what is your favourite one?” 

He didn’t need to think about it, he knew just which one, is he seriously going to tell you all about it? You were looking at him expectantly. Leaning closer and clearly very excited and fuck it, why not tell you? Who were you going to spill this too anyway? Cat was already out of the bag about him being into art so with that important detail divulged, the risk was nil. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you. So back in New Jersey there was this old as fuck building, no one was using it for anything, no one cared about it, place was practically falling apart, right?” 

You nod along and listen as he tells you about it. This old building he talked about, the one no one gave a fuck about, he was able to do whatever he wanted with it because of that and what he decided to do with it was use it as a makeshift art studio. He’d do all his work there and spent ample time within the dilapidated walls. He’d been doing work in said building for months, the city didn’t seem in a rush to sell it or tear it down, just one of those things that fell through the cracks, he came and went as he pleased, no one bothered him and he liked it that way. 

“I met Tiff that night we told you about, where she was just so incredible I totally forgot about that other girl. We had been seeing each other for a while, and had started getting to that point of spending more nights together than not. I wanted to be in the studio that night but I also wanted to see her and I thought, you know what, fuck it? Why not bring her there.” 

He proceeded to tell you that he told her he had something to show her, brought her to the place and let her see all of it. She loved it, he talked to her about what pieces he liked best, motivations, times in his life and what was going on when he made them, what drove him to create them. Sounded like a very vulnerable conversation but you aren’t that surprised, Tiffany is a special kind of lady and they have a particular kind of bond. 

“She was looking at this series I had done, was tryna push myself by doing this set of still life and using very precise colour palettes, blah, blah, it ain’t that important but what it led to was.” 

“What did it lead to?” You were all too into the story and he could tell, he smiles and then expounds, “She asked me in that very Tiffany way of hers, I am sure you can hear it, all, ‘do you paint people?’ and I told her I have, I just hadn’t in a while, hadn’t had anyone to the studio but her.”

“Oh you fucking smooth talker. She must have eaten that up.” He shrugs but there is that cocky air about it that makes it totally clear he knows how what he said got to her. “I mean who wouldn’t?”

You certainly would have in her shoes. “So an idea struck me then, I told her why don’t I fix that?”

He didn’t have to say it, you realised it right then before he could utter the next sentence but you still listened, hanging off every word. “I offered to paint her.” 

How fucking romantic is that? You didn’t think he had it in him, even after all the sweet things Tiffany told you he did the other day. You wonder why she left this one out but you didn’t focus on it much. Just listened more as he told you the rest of it. 

“We were up all night. We ended up getting takeout, we drank, we smoked, we laughed and talked and I painted her.” 

“How was she?” You asked quietly and he imparted, “I had this bed there, this mattress I dragged into the space because sometimes I’d get so caught up working and I didn’t want to go back to my actual place, so I’d crash there. I wanted her to be comfortable, so she sat there, I had this stool and my canvas and-”

The place was going to close soon, you still had some slices left, soda’s half full, you don’t care, you ask, “And?”

It was summer. It was hot but not stiflingly so. He isn’t sure the time, it’s that time where it stops being late and the question of it being early creeps in. He can’t stop looking at her, she is not in much, the dress she wore suited the weather, straps slipped down her shoulders, hem had rode up her thighs, heels off and next to the empty and overturned bottle of wine at the foot of the mattress. She wore a smile, cigarette between her fingers, blonde hair piled up and out of her face except for the few small bits framing it. She was stunning, a perfect subject really, all curves and kept him engaged in conversation while he worked. She was so funny. She was telling him some story about her sister and he was making sure to keep his brush away from the canvas, and didn't want to make any mistakes so close to being down with this. His hand that wasn’t holding the brush was resting on the top of the canvas, his hair was pulled out of the way, his button up shirt was off, white tank top as well as his pants and arms sported a few paint stains. 

“And then what did she do?” He asked amusedly, and she giggled before telling him with a gesture of the cigarette in her hand, “She left! I mean fuck, would you stay after that shit? I dunno how she ever showed her face again!” 

He laughs and so does she. 

The urge of it surprises him. The laughter goes quiet. The conversation stops, falling into a comfortable silence, he is staring into her eyes and she is looking back. The space between them wasn’t much, he could reach out and touch her if he wanted to and fuck, he did want to. He speaks without thought, just tells her, honestly, “You know…Tiff I…I’ve never said this to, fuck, well anyone before but…”

“But?” She asks, a cock of her head, genuinely curious and he says it, almost as if he doesn’t believe it as the words leave his mouth, “I think I’m in love with you.” 

She leans over, the remainder of her cigarette stamped out in the ashtray, looking at him all the while, “Oh my God Chucky.”

Eyes scan his face and she takes in his body language and she says quietly, “You’re serious.” 

A nod, a somewhat nervous laugh that is more of an exhale than anything else, “I am sweetheart, I really am.” 

The tension is thick, it is quiet again, he asks, “Are you gonna leave a guy hanging here forever orrr?”

She smiles, a small laugh as she shakes her head, “Fuck, sorry, I didn’t think I had to say it, sweetface. Of course I love you.” 

Her hands reach out, the canvas is leaned carefully against the stool and he joins her on the bed. He kisses her first but she returns it fast, desperate, needy, laden with emotion and the main event of the evening, the painting, the act of creation, him the painter and her the muse, is forgotten, now both of them are consumed with expressing feelings for each other. The ceiling of the place isn’t intact, the orange light filtering in making her look even more gorgeous if that is somehow possible, as they have sex while the sun comes up, it is the most inspiring non violent experience he has ever had. 

After it is over they lie together, they smoke more, they talk and they have been on this date for over twelve hours. They go out for breakfast after, he finishes the painting at a different time, he tells you that is when things got really serious between him and Tiffany, that is when they start making plans, talking about a fresh start, moving. 

The pizza is eaten. The soda drank. The place is closed. You are on the street with him and stunned. “No wonder that is your favourite.” 

He is lighting up another smoke, he hums in acknowledgment and nods. 

After it’s lit you reach out, your hand closes his lighter, snuffing out the flame, he turns, looking down at you and you tell him, “You…Didn’t have to tell me all that but, the fact you did, it isn’t lost on me Chuck. Thank you. Really.” 

“Course. I thought you’d like to know and honestly? It felt good to share.” He has this expression, it is hard to define but it is one that you had seen look at Tiffany with previously, it says, affection and that makes you melt almost as much as the story did. 

You lean up, you kiss him, soft and sweet, when you break it, pull away you say, “I had no idea how much you loved art.”

He tries to play it off, tone very casual as he tells you, “Eh, it’s alright.” You laugh, a scoff with a roll of your eyes. You let it go. You hold hands and he walks you to the train station, you tell him, “We should go to a museum sometime.”

He squeezed your hand and told you sincerely, “Sounds fun.” 

You get home safe that night, feeling like you know them much, much better. You feel included, part of this, of what they have even before you were there by having this knowledge of how they were. A call from them a few days after brings you to dinner with them before you had to work. 

Showing up to their place dressed up, having to go start your shift sooner rather than later and happy to see them, it is a pretty usual date by all accounts. They talk you into a glass of wine, the food is lovely and you are just enjoying their company. So when the food is eaten, both of them take a hand of yours and the question of, “Will you be our girlfriend?” shocks you. 

“What?” You asked and your eyes flicked back and forth between them, hands were sweaty, you didn’t want to let go but you wanted to wipe them off on your napkin, she speaks and distracts you, “We’ve been talking a lot.”

“So much.” He nods and she says, “We’ve been doing this for a while now and we both really like you.”

You had no idea what to say. Sure you had been dating, you’d kissed and had sex and shared pieces of yourself with them that you hadn’t with anyone, they had done their own fair share of divulging but still, you thought you were just a side thing, you knew they cared but not to this level, you thought you were ultimately some fun. You were okay with that, just getting to have them in any small way was fine for now, you didn’t think about the future, didn’t think this was building towards anything serious. 

He asks, “So what do you say?”

Yet here they were, offering to bring you into the fold, actually make you a part of their relationship. They were offering it out and you felt your heart burst. Warmth floods and you tell them, “Yes, I say yes, of course. I’d love to be.” 

You kiss him first. You kiss her next. They both pull you back to their bedroom.

You are late for work that night, coming in with hair that is just a little too messy, lipstick that is smudged and legs that are just a tad too shaky and a smile that refuses to leave. There are apologies to your coworkers, a lie about the train being late and they buy it, they don’t question because you are never late. 

Losing yourself to the rhythm of work, your mind isn’t focused thought, it’s on them. Girlfriend, you are their girlfriend. You have a boyfriend and a girlfriend, you have two partners, there is no question of how this would work because so far it has been working super well. You wondered how much better things could get, what this would mean. Your mind runs back over all the times you had seen them both, especially before you got together, are you going to get to that level but not just with one person but both? God, you hoped.

You were absurdly overjoyed, so light. 

Mid-way through your shift, there is a call of your name. You turn and see Rachel, she wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight, wasn’t working, at first you smile, figuring maybe she came in for a drink. You wave but then your smile starts to fall, she looks pale, sickly, and rushing towards you frantically. She catches you, hands taking the one of yours that isn’t holding your tray, “Woah Rach, hi, what’s wrong?”

She was breathing so hard, she was talking so fast, babbling out, “I can’t believe it, I know you said not to worry and I tried not to but it felt wrong, not like I thought you were wrong but it just wasn’t right, you know?”

“Rachel, honey, please, slow down, I can’t follow you at all.” She was freaking you out. Your stomach was sinking, you were very worried about her, you’d never seen her so frazzled. She nods, sucks down a deep breath and nods before forcing herself to say slowly, “Do you remember Randall? My old regular?”

You nod as you asked, “Yeah of course hon, what about him?” 

She then says something that makes your blood run cold and feel like the floor drops out from under you, squeezing her hand as hard as she was holding yours, “The police just questioned me, he is missing, presumed dead.” 

So much for your high you were previously on. 

[dollfxcx]

hey!! could I ask for a pennywise smut where he just... fucks reader's mouth? and moving them around like a ragdoll and shit? (only if you're comfortable with that!!!)

[this was honestly so fun to write (him moving me around like a fucking toy is my biggest dream so I was happy to fulfill your wishes🙌🏻). I used she/her pronouns only once (literally), I hope it's okay, if not lemme know and I'll fix it right away<3]

TW: nsfw, emotional manipulation, food gore (? does that even exist), hate sex.

context: reader tried to leave neibolt house dozens of times yet she always comes back. yet this time penny's a little pissed at how long it took you. oh shucks what is he gon do😔🤭

word count: (1.7k +)

The house no longer looks like the one you left a few months ago. It's ruined, decadent, dead. It slopes perilously to one side and the once gleaming wood is now rotten and dusty. The lawn around has no longer been taken care of, tall blades of grass reach about a meter in height, yet they are not of a beautiful bright green, but yellow and dry, with curled and sharp edges. There is no trace of the hammock, as well as the small vases of flowers that used to rest on the balconies next to the main door. You place the heavy backpack on the ground, in front of the entrance, and take out the set of house keys. You try to insert them in the lock, but the door is already open. It invites you in, subtly, as if it wants you there. You place your hand on the handle, a shaking grip just begging you to step back and run. Yet you don't, perhaps stupidly, you keep your feet firmly on the ground. You lower the doorknob, the palm of your hand wet from the raindrops that were resting there, and you enter the house. Against all odds, everything is as you left it, in total contrast to the conditions outside. Everything is almost too tidy, to be honest.

"Is that you, Y/n, darling?" Your heart begins to beat almost spasmodically when you hear his voice, it seems like a gentle singsong that caresses your ear, sweet and familiar timbre. It comes from the kitchen, so you walk towards it, almost stealthily. He's facing the counter, tinkering with a steaming baking tray, but when he turns around, he is exactly as your best memories depict him, no claws or abominable razor-sharp teeth, just his sweet painted nose and buck teeth peeking through his full lips. Your legs feel feeble when he turns to look at you, sky blue eyes you've dreamed of seeing again for too long and an almost feline smile on your face.

"I made you lasagna." he points out to you as he places two plates on the dining table, his hands, beautifully gloved, comically undoing his apron. With still a shroud of suspicion, you sit down at the table, watching his every move. Pennywise grabs the baking tray where the lasagna should be, but, for a second, you can swear you saw something else altogether, something mushy, something throbbing. Something red, slimy. Alive. You blink and everything is as before, the lasagna gives off a hot and inviting steam and Pennywise looks happier than when you set foot in the house. He sits across from you and serves you a piece of lunch, a watchful and expectant gaze as he watches the movement of your fork as it approaches your lips. And when the first bite tickles your taste buds, you feel like puking, the rotting taste of raw 

(human)

meat coating your tongue. You jump up, not even noticing the slight smile on his lips, and run to the bathroom.

***

"Doll, is everything okay?" You hear him speaking through the thick bathroom door, but you can't take your eyes off the mirror, your reflection, your (blood) red-stained lips, a metallic taste on them. You turn on the tap grudgingly and moisten the towel to clean yourself, but when you're about to bring it to your face, the stain is gone in the blink of an eye. Pennywise knocks on the door again, an insistence typical of him and, with an exasperated snort, you open it, the vision that appears in front of you makes your legs feel weak. His chest rises and falls slowly, straining the fabric of the silk grey costume he's wearing, a tuft of ginger hair dangles merrily in front of his eyes, very cheekily, full and plump lips slightly parted, and he's handsome as hell.

(The eyes cannot see what the heart sees

The mind cannot know what the heart knows

The ears cannot hear what the heart hears

The hands cannot give what the heart gives

There's a storm coming

There's a storm coming, feel the electricity

There is a storm coming to my city

It brings novelty, it brings novelty)

One of his hands gently grips your hair, tilting your head back so his lips, warm and slightly moist, like wax, can rest on the skin of your throat, the other grips your side, fingertips digging into your flesh.

"What took you so long?" he hums, sucking at the skin of your neck, tugging at your hair harshly for more access. You recoil from the jerk against the wall, one of his knees makes room between your legs for you to grind against it, his breath tickling the shell of your ear in a soothing tone.

"But you're back now, yes! Beautiful, beautiful

(fear)

Y/n, she always comes back to me, mh?" Pennywise bites your earlobe, his finger caresses your collarbone with butterfly-like lightness. You melt at his words and sigh, trying to convince yourself that this is the real him, that everything that has happened in the previous months has been all imagination, that maybe you are just schizophrenic, or that you dreamed it all up.

(And my mind is split inside one body)

His lips barely touch yours, you feel a slight smirk on your skin.

“You could be so good for me…” he comments, as if he's sorry that, until now, you haven't been able to be like that, yet. His hands move to your shoulders, yanking you down harshly, and it should hurt to land so hard on the floor, but you can't even feel it, too focused on his eyes gleaming golden when they meet yours. He gently takes your chin between his fingers, stroking your lips with his thumb, a little smile peers down at you.

"Can you be good for me now? You can give ol' Pennywise a reason why he should keep you, yes?" You don't quite understand why he said keep you, but you honestly don't care right now, you can only nod slightly under his light caresses. He hums appreciatively and spreads his legs slightly as his hand reluctantly leaves your face to fly to the hem of his pantaloons.

(Life is much broader than a definition

And everyone's waiting for something to happen

That will remove the veil of dust from reality)

You don't realize you breathe a sigh of relief when, pants around his ankles, his cock is freed from the garment's grip. The last time you dealt with it, you didn't get a chance to see it, it all happened too fast and the way you felt it inside you didn't seem human at all. What you are facing now, indeed, isn't human in the slightest, it's hard and it wriggles with tentacle-like enthusiasm, tip flushed and somehow already wet, eager. One of his hands is on his hip, the other is leaning against the wall behind you for support.

"Come on" he smiles, accommodating, reassuring, so loving you can't help but obey. You part your lips, palm open to grab his cock and lift it slightly, tongue flattened to caress the entire length. You hear him hissing above you, his hand moves from the wall to run through your hair, pulling it lightly, as if he's trying to hold back.

(And everything we know is not true

The origins are lost in the void of time

But everything is preserved in the depths)

You take it in your mouth slowly, without going too deep, teasing the tip to make soft pleased moans come out of his mouth. The taste is unexpectedly sweet, like 

(rotten meat)

cotton candy, so you suck on it harder, tongue concentrated in passing through each slick crease to savor the sweetness of its pre-cum. He moans softly, you look up to see how his eyes have rolled into his skull in pleasure, slightly parted lips quivering, Adam's apple rising and falling as he swallows, a slight streak of drool dripping from his corner of the mouth.

"Yeah, like that..." he murmurs softly, his hand pressing against the back of your neck to push himself deeper. The feeling of gagging that starts building up in your throat can't be helped, even if you try to back away there's the wall behind you, so, with tears starting to sting your eyes, you allow him to fuck your mouth, his cock so deep that your nose presses, at one point, against his crotch. His movements go from rhythmic to spasmodic, carelessly thrusting in your mouth like an rabid animal and while it's not entirely pleasant, you hope it doesn't end. May this be what awaits you tomorrow too. And the next day. And the one after that. Pennywise cums in your mouth with an intensity you didn't expect, but his hand doesn't release from your hair, preventing you from moving, as if not even a drop could be wasted.

"Swallow." he orders hoarsely, voice not his

(I have found memories that are not mine

I have only one name but at least a hundred identities)

but you do it anyway, as it's the only solution for you to be able to breathe normally again. You hear him giggling almost maniacally, but it doesn't last long because then he lowers himself to your height, stroking the skin of your cheek with

(hunger)

sweetness, a lopsided smile on his lips.

"Bet you liked it, huh? Sooooo greedy, my Y/n." he takes your chin between his fingers again, this time squeezing harder than before, with less care, the tip of his tongue, which for a moment seems you strangely pointed, emerges between his lips when he moistens them in anticipation.

"You're gonna try to be loyal to me, yeah? You can do it, doll. I will give you all that you need, just say you'll serve me. Say you will sell your soul to me and I won't leave you alone... Do you like the idea? Yes?" he gets up, tugging his pants up and leaving you on the floor like a wet and used rag. Without even giving you time to speak. The both of you already know what your answer would have been. You realize only now that, since when have you set foot in the house, you still haven't said a single word to him.

—

feedbacks always appreciated

[requests open for headcanons too!!]

[drpeppertummy]

[hunger, stuffing, emotional anguish, tummy rubs]

"Gray?"

"Hm?" Gray looked down at Sunny and was immediately concerned. He looked like he'd been through the wringer, sad and exhausted and limp, far from his usual energetic self. Even his voice was much softer than usual.

"Can I have a hug?" Sunny looked up at him with big wet eyes.

"Of course," said Gray, gently embracing his friend. Sunny wrapped his arms tightly around him and buried his face in his chest. He held himself together for a moment, then, in spite of his efforts, he wept. Gray held him close, rubbing his back as he cried. Finally, the tears began to slow, and Sunny pulled away, wiping his eyes.

"Sorry," he hiccupped, drying his face with his sleeve. "I didn't mean to do all that."

"You don't have to be sorry," said Gray. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know. Everything. I pissed off Laurie, and I dropped Wendy's mug, and then I burned the lasagna I was supposed to make for tonight, and I spilled Dave's paint all over the place, and…" he trailed off, his voice cracking. Gray nodded understandingly and hugged him again. Sunny clung weakly to him, resting his head against Gray's chest once more. His stomach growled loudly, and he winced. Gray looked down, surprised.

"Did you eat today?"

"I don't know. No, I was busy."

"Why don't we go have a snack?" Gray suggested.

"What's the point," Sunny mumbled.

"You know you always feel worse when you're hungry," said Gray. "I could use a snack too. Come on, we'll eat something together."

"Alright," Sunny agreed reluctantly.

Gray led Sunny to the kitchen with an arm around his shoulders, contemplating what to make. Sunny's stomach growled pitifully, and he hugged his arms around his aching tummy. Gray looked sympathetically at him. He had a feeling his friend hadn't completely forgotten to eat. Of course, there were plenty of times when he really was too busy or distracted to do so, but once in a while, if he was really feeling awful about himself, he simply wouldn't. Gray knew better than anybody about the darker parts of Sunny's mind; it didn't take much for him to spiral into self destruction.

Sunny dropped himself into a chair and put his head down on the table. His belly rumbled again and he ignored it. Gray watched him for a moment, then opened up the fridge, thinking.

"I'm so sick of fucking things up," Sunny mumbled. "Gray, sometimes I think it'd be better if I just went away." Gray froze for a moment, feeling a quick bolt of panic. He knew Sunny well enough to know that he wasn't exaggerating.

"Hey, that's not true," said Gray, turning to face him. "Everybody messes things up sometimes, but you do a lot for all of us too. And even if you didn't, we still like having you around." Sunny didn't argue, but Gray could tell he wasn't convinced. He pulled up a chair beside him and sat, placing a hand on his back.

"Listen, Sunny. If anything ever happened to you, I would be devastated. So would Laurie and everybody else. You're our friend, and we care about you, and we love you, and we're glad you're in our lives. I can't think of one single thing we do that would be better without you." Sunny looked up, wet-eyed.

"Thanks, Gray," he said quietly. He sat upright and hugged him, and Gray hugged him back.

"I'm gonna make you something to eat, okay?" Sunny nodded, and Gray stood up, gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, and returned to the fridge. Sunny sat for a moment, watching Gray, then quietly joined him.

Together, they made blueberry pancakes. Gray always made excellent pancakes; they were a favorite of his friends and his younger siblings, and fresh blueberries were his personal favorite addition. Just helping Gray cook made Sunny feel a little bit better, and Gray even managed to get a smile out of him while they worked. Finally, the two friends sat down together at the table, each with a plate of pancakes. Gray, who had already had lunch not long ago, had one, while Sunny had a nice stack of three. His starved tummy growled impatiently at the smell of them.

Despite his stomach's aches and complaints, Sunny didn't realize just how hungry he'd been until he started eating. Ordinarily, he was very chatty while eating with a friend--particularly with Gray, who may very well have been his closest friend--but right now he was too busy eating to speak. The pancakes were big and fluffy, and it didn't take long for them to fill him up. He was so full by the time he was nearly done that he had to push himself to finish them. Still, he finished successfully, and he leaned back in his seat, resting his hands on his puffed-up pancake-filled belly.

"You're the best, Gray," he said, idly rubbing his full belly. He felt absolutely stuffed, but comfortable, and eating had helped his mood after all, as did Gray's company.

"So are you," said Gray. "Thanks for helping."

They worked together to clean up the kitchen, then sat together on the couch. Gray pulled Sunny into his arms and rested his hands on his full tummy. It was round and tight, and it let out a soft gurgle as it worked to digest the big stack of pancakes. Sunny relaxed immediately in his arms. Gray's hands were big and warm, and the feeling of them covering his belly was comforting.

"I owe you one, Gray," Sunny said sleepily. "I feel a lot better." He paused for a moment, then spoke again, more quietly. "I'm sorry if I've been a lot lately."

"Don't be sorry," said Gray. "We all have our bad days. I'm just glad you're feeling better." He gently rubbed Sunny's bloated tummy, enjoying the soft rise and fall of it under his hands. Sunny sighed softly, melting completely under the warm touch, and Gray smiled.

[aheathen-conceivably]

Anonymous OC question of the day!

If you could make a character real, which of your OCs would be:

your bestie

your spouse/partner

your secret lover!

your friendly rival

your enemy!

BONUS: do this for other people’s OCs too!

Pass the game along (anonymously or not)

Nonny! Bless you! This is is the nonsense I live for.

Okay okay we’re gunna assume they’re real but also like I’m selecting these independently, so you know when I pick my bestie’s husband as my partner I’m not causing drama…👀

Bestie

I mean come on, it’s gotta be Zelda, right? Like imma be real, maybe I would like it to be Jo, but at this point in my life ain’t no way I could keep up with her 😂

I just wanna vibe, talk about books and stories, maybe sit in silence sometimes, have some wine if I’m feeling wild. Plus I feel like Zelda has just enough of a proclivity toward the grand and the romantic that I would love to have a long winded conversation with her into the wee hours of the night.

Spouse/Partner

Welp. Sorry bestie. I’m picking your husband. It’s Antoine. Seriously, is anyone even the mildest bit surprised? I don’t think I’ve made any effort to hide that my ~type~ is the moody broken artist who you just can’t understand. Did I maybe give him some of my own IRL husband’s qualities? I plead the fifth….

But also on his positive qualities, the domestic, loyal side of Antoine is very important to me in a partner and his (newfound) emotional strength for Zelda is very attractive. Which speaking of, I mean his attractiveness is obviously a factor here too 👀

Secret Lover

Against Antoine? I have to pick a secret lover when I already have Antoine? How dare you 😭

Okay okay, honestly, I think imma have to go with Georgiana. What? I can do with some fancy gifts and maybe a few trips around the world if she’s feeling wild. Plus, she has the broken artist vibes too oops 🤣

Friendly Rival

Ya know, I think probably Rosella. I know y’all all love her, but she’s definitely got some qualities that would make me wanna be her friend but also probably shit talk and maybe even dislike her from time to time. Like I gave Rosella my love of fashion, but likewise also some of my vanity and vapidity that I’ve worked on curbing. So I think we would have a lot of similarities and enjoy a great friendship, but then also turn around and side eye the hell out of eachother sometimes.

Enemy

Low key, maybe Jo? I feel like if we crossed paths somewhere and shit went bad, it would go real bad. Like we are both stubborn as hell, sure of ourselves, and even a touch manipulative if we need to be. I also don’t think either of us really responds well to someone with similar qualities as us, so there would probably be a bit of bristling because of that too.

Can…can we make it enemies to lovers though? Or just ya know, enemies with a side of secret lovers? 🫣

-

Also, also….I can’t resist doing this for my babies the Plotts so with little to no explanation:

Best Friend: Chad (if he will have me) Partner: Ale (sad lasagna boys for life) Secret Lover: Can I deep cut pick Sade AND Chet when I'm an agent in the anachronistic 70s spy office? Yes, I pick yes. Friendly Rival: Hinoki (forever and always) Enemy: Poppy (please see the Jo energy above)

(psttt psttt @theplottdump for you my fellow potato brain)

[amysubmits]

Tacos, Lasagna or Coffee?

If my Dom tells me to make tacos for dinner tonight, I have no problem submitting to that even if I had thought about having something else. I like tacos. Maybe I was craving tortellini instead, but I can eat tacos without it having a meaningful impact on me. 

If my Dom told me we were having lasagna for dinner and I wasn’t allowed to eat anything else...that would be a problem for me. I don’t like lasagna. Would eating it kill me? No. If he asked me to try a bite of lasagna, I would. But forcing myself to eat a whole meal’s worth of something I really dislike or go hungry would be a really negative experience for me emotionally.  

I’ve never been a coffee drinker and I have ADHD so stimulants impact me differently than most. But I’ve seen other subs talk about having rules like “no coffee after 3pm”. The goal being to make sure their caffeine intake doesn’t impact their ability to fall asleep at night. For some subs having rules that require them to prioritize their health makes them feel super subby and warm & fuzzy - even though it means less coffee and they love coffee. Some days may be harder than others, where they really are craving another coffee - but they get enough positive feelings from the rule that it is a net-positive experience overall. 

Some people frame submission as being about ignoring all of your preferences, and even your needs. A “whatever my dom wants, they get, what I want doesn’t matter, I’m a sub!” type of mentality. This suggests that a dom could make a coffee-loving sub never have coffee ever again, and a lasagna-hating sub only ever eat lasagna, and the sub should happily go along with this agreement because they are a sub. 

My personal belief is that ignoring your own preferences only works to a certain extent. 

If we tried to make a D/s dynamic where he regularly made lasagna-like decisions for me, that would do emotional damage. I would become resentful. I’d probably twist that resentment into criticizing myself for not being a better sub, a more natural sub who is happy to eat things they hate? It would eat me alive first, but eventually it would impact CD as well. My growing self-loathing would eventually impact him as I’d be less confident and he’d feel the impact of that. My pain and resentment might bubble out directly at him at times, too. Negative emotions can’t just be swallowed or bottled up and forgotten about. They come out in some way or another eventually. That’s my belief, anyway. 

I think sometimes subs post about being “forced” to do things because framing it that way makes it feel hot for them. Or maybe it’s not a sexual thing but it just makes them feel good about their submission to post about how they ‘had to’ do something as it makes their submission more recognized. I might post about how CD “made me” cook tacos and how I wanted tortellini instead. Or the sub with the coffee rule might post about how desperately they want another coffee but how they “have to” only drink water for the rest of the day. 

In the taco and coffee scenarios, the subs primarily enjoy what they are being “forced” to do. There is some self-control and maybe even some struggle involved with submitting to this some days, but there is no resentment. They like the rule, or protocol, or expectation that they’ve consented to. Nothing eats at them at the end of the day. It’s very different from the lasagna scenario, but all three could be posted online and discussed as the sub being “forced” to comply with. 

In cases where people might be trying to submit to things that actually do eat at them? I think that will cause problems long-term. But my larger point I wanted to make is...when reading other people’s D/s anecdotes, if you find yourself thinking someone else submits to a lot of “lasagna” stuff? Ask yourself if it could be more taco-like or coffee-like for them, even if it would be lasagna-like for you. We’re all different, of course. If you take any two subs and compare them you’ll almost certainly find areas that are easier and harder for each to submit. It doesn’t make one a better or deeper sub than the other. 

Or even if they are submitting to lasagna-stuff? Meaning, they are submitting in ways that feel more negative than positive? I don’t think it’s good to use examples of other people submitting to lasagna-stuff to make yourself feel bad about your own submission. Maybe they are submitting “more” than you, but maybe it’s eating at them so it really shouldn’t be something you set as a goal for yourself. I think we should aim to be healthy subs first and foremost. 

@sccwriting