#this poor man needs a raise (and probably some alcohol)

[forvegaspetessake]

Under-giffed moments (6/?)

Arm cleaning his glasses

[localkiss]

Fucking After Party!

pairings: leon kennedy x fem!reader

synopsis: Of course your big brother coddles you. Do you find it weird? Yes. So, you slip away to a Halloween party, unbeknownst to what will happen later in the night. Maybe you'll find yourself clinging to your older brother in time of need.

cw: MDNI!! INCEST !! Knives, oral, p in v, unprotected sex, noncon/dubcon, creampies, spanking, manhandling, degradation, praise, overstimulation, poor depictions of alcohol and drinking, poor depictions of flirting (im shorry), videotaping.. um probably more but i don't wanna spoil it. LEON IS VERY OOC (since some ppl are babies about that 🙄)

wc: 4.6k

tags: @dilfstar @adiorxia @leonkennedygvrl @bunnyclaire @rigorwhoring @leonsdolly @admirxation @gettingsilly @nilpill @withonly-sweetheart @cakelitter

“Hey little sis,” he hums out, hand reaching up to pet your head with affection. Thinking about how cute you are when you look up at him with red hot cheeks. His eyes dip down your body, so soft and plush. Perfect. 

“Leoonnnn!” You drag out his name in an annoyed tone. Swatting his hand away. Can't help but think that he's a pest, constantly buzzing around you. Never leaving you alone.

Like, c’mon doesn't he have a job? He's always been a bit of a lurker around you, but especially now that you're in college. Can't always be his baby sis. One day, you'll have a significant other, leave the house, and sort of cut contact for the most part. Be too busy to entertain your loser of an older brother. 

To him though? You will be by his side forever. Dote on you forever and ever. Never make you pay any bills, lift a finger, or even have the time to complain about something. Because, guess what! Big brother is always here for you. To take care of you and never make you have to get a job to sustain yourself. 

Leon just chuckles at your display of frustration. He wants to comment on how cute you are, especially when you say his name like that. 

Wants to just snatch you up and cuddle with you until you are fast asleep in his arms. His strong, firm biceps against your body like you're a body pillow. 

Imagining you scooting up close until you're snug against his body. Your ass pressing into his groin so much that he can feel your tailbone. To imagine you knocked out so he can take full advantage of you. Better yet, if you pretend to be asleep, letting him grope you in ways a brother shouldn't. 

Honestly, he thought about ordering some sleeping pills to dissolve into your drinks. So when he feels like feeling you up in your sleep, he can do it while making sure you're gonna stay asleep.

And place a camera in your room so he can watch back on how you look and react in your sleep. See if you smile in your sleep. Good material to jerk off to, especially good if he manages to snag a pair of your panties.

He sucks on his teeth and shakes his head down at you. “So… where’re you headed, looking like that? Got a hot date or what?” Leon drags his eyes slowly once more. One thing caught his eye immediately. Can't believe he didn't even notice it the first time he looked at you. 

You are wearing black pantyhose and a white mini dress. What are you, some cheap hooker? No, no, no… you are his baby. Only he should see you like this. Not some fucking douchebag who's going to do a pump and dump.

Man, if he ever catches some guy trying to dick you down in your bed.. it'll be over. One flash of his badge and the guy will go running off with his tail between his legs. It doesn't mean anything to Leon if your love or sex life doesn't even begin.

“I'm going to a Halloween party.” You answer bluntly, gesturing towards your sexy nurse rendition. Shifting from one foot to the other, your maroon colored heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Sighing deeply, like he's boring you. 

Leon raises his eyebrows. Even worse than a date. A whole party full of immature adults whose brains aren't fully developed. Great. Perfect. 

“Sure you don't want me to go with you? I can be a sexy cop,” he puts his hands on his hips with a sly smile. “I can even bring my handcuffs.” 

You wrinkle your nose at that. “Um, no thanks. You'll just be watching me the entire time, again. Remember last time?” 

Closing your eyes and shaking your head rapidly for a few seconds. It was weird. 

“Oh come on , I was making sure nobody was trying anything funny. Can't consent if you're totally wasted.” As if he isn't planning on touching you in your sleep. 

Though, you've no idea that he's thinking this stuff. Supposed to be a good guy. Good cop. 

However, there is something about you that makes that dark side of his brain itch. Maybe it is because you are his little sister? The fact that you guys used to play house together? Used to do things that would be weird to do as two grown adults. 

Him being the husband, you being the wife. Parents in the other room as you mimicked what they did a lot, which is a quick peck on the lips. It was innocent. 

Or when you both were forced to change in the bathroom together, after swimming. It was all fine and dandy since you're family. And when it became weird, was when you were fourteen and he was sixteen. 

Weird that your brother kept following you and bothering you. Or was the chaperone at dances. Always staring and glaring down at other boys. Pissed you off and you both argued on the way home. You did not have a good time at any dances because of him. 

“I need to protect you from the bad guys,” he said. “Mom says I have to watch you, since I'm older than you,” he said. What is he, some sort of hero?

It only got worse when you walked in on him masturbating. You remember the way his mouth was formed in an ‘o’ shape, how his cock was flushed at the tip. How he had his head tilted back into his pillow. The lewd sounds of him fucking his fist and his soft groans and whimpers. And how his muscles rippled with each tug, the slight sheen of sweat on his naked figure. 

Leon was just mumbling to himself. “Yeah? Yeah, just like that. Mhmm…” 

“Take it baby, take it.”

“Please let me cum inside of you. Please let me.” 

And a whole bunch of other things you simply wish you never heard out of his mouth. It makes you cringe. But you also feel disgusted for squeezing your thighs together as you watched him. He was big. Real big. 

“Yeah. But I want to go, to have a good time, Leon.” You insist on leaving alone. “I'll text you if I need any help.” 

Giving him a flat smile, you click clack your way to your friend's car outside. Getting inside the vehicle and driving away swiftly. Looking out the window and seeing Leon wave goodbye to you. 

As soon as you arrive at the party, you are bombarded with the smell of weed, sweat, and alcohol. Just the right scent notes for a candle!

You shimmy your way into the kitchen for a red solo cup to fill up with some concoction of alcohol and juice. Doing so, you find yourself flirting with a guy who is dressed up as a vampire. And he convinces you to dance with him. 

Making your way to the dance floor, he keeps a firm grip on your wrist. Slowly moving it down towards your hips. It’s a bit weird for someone to be so confident and comfortable with touching a woman like that immediately. But you ignore it for the time being. 

Slowly getting to know him and all of his interests. Barely giving you any time to talk about yourself. It's whatever. He's cute. 

It sure is fun letting loose and drinking all your sorrows away.

You feel his hand start to slip down towards the top of your ass. Still, you don't say anything. Maybe it's just the alcohol dulling your senses, you just can't find a care in the world to stop him. 

He leads you back to the kitchen, pouring you a drink. Urging you to finish what he made you before you both got back to the dance floor. Kind of weird, but alright. 

Shit. All you can see and feel is his soft body against you, his dick grinding up against your stomach. The black shaggy hair and his stupid vampire collar. And his old spice ass cologne, ugh. Headache central. 

You excuse yourself and go to the kitchen. Fixing yourself another cup, because fuck it. And then another man comes up and starts chatting away with you. 

Eventually, you both make it outside. Talking about the most random bullshit you could think of. 

This guy's pretty cute too. No costume though, from what you could tell. And, he's eyeing you up like candy. Like he wants to eat you up here and now. Hot…!

He's tall, skinny, and has dark brown hair. Oh, not to mention the weird black lines on his face. Maybe…it's his costume? You hope. 

“So, what's your costume?” You gesture towards his outfit. 

“I'm dressed up as Choso from Jujutsu Kaisen, you probably don't know it. It's an anime.” He explains with a shrug of his shoulders and a smirk to his lips. 

Oh! So he's one of those guys. Yeah, nevermind. No thanks, Mr. Nice guy. 

“Oh, okay… Cool. I'll be sure to look that up later,” you hum and nod your head. 

He created this awkward atmosphere. Best to just swipe it under the rug and talk about something else. Or, just get more alcohol! Because alcohol fixes everything! 

Both of you make your way back into the house and you grab some more of that good stuff. Gulping it all down and smoothing your slutty nurse outfit out. Bending over to fix your stockings, to make sure it looks cute still. 

Somebody comes up behind you and whistles. That gets your attention in the wrong way. Doesn't matter to the guy though. Attention is attention. Can't help but wrinkle your nose at him, watching him walk away with a smug look on his face.

You straighten up and sigh, checking your phone. It's only been two hours? 

God, it feels like it's been an eternity in this swamp of horny drunk adults. You can't see your friends anywhere, assuming they've already left and are going to hookup with some stranger. Like always, leaving you behind to fend for yourself. It's cool though. 

Rubbing your bleary eyes, you stumble out the front door. The chilly air of October coming to bite you in the ass. Quite literally. It's almost hanging out with the way it keeps riding up. It's not too cold, as you have some liquid courage in your system! Thank god for that! 

Feeling your teeth start to chatter, you manage to send your location to Leon. Opening your camera, you take a good look at yourself. Fixing yourself up to take a few photos. Might as well, since you look absolutely amazing. Wouldn’t want this makeup to be all for nothing, now would we?

As you smile and pose for the camera, you feel two arms slipping around your waist. But no groin pressing up against you. Odd. You bite your lip and turn your head. 

“What the—Leon?”

“Yes, silly. That's my name, don't wear it out.” He chuckles down at you. “What? I was getting ready to pose for a picture with you.” 

You roll your eyes, feeling his chin rest on your shoulder. And at the last second, he moves his hand to come up and squish your cheeks together. Ruining the photo. 

Turning around, you let out a huff of air. Hitting him once in the chest before making your way to his Jeep. Not bothering to chastise him for doing that. You've had enough of men for today. 

Buckling yourself, you squeeze your legs together, trying to warm up quickly. The warm air fanning all around you, undoing all the prickles in your skin, it's refreshing. Leon gets into the driver's side and buckles himself before driving back to your guys’ house. 

Closing your eyes, you tilt your head back against the headrest. The bumps and the soft sound of the radio killing you to sleep. Thankfully Leon doesn't say anything the rest of the way home. 

As the car slows to a stop, you wake up from your little—but much appreciated—nap. Groaning, you unbuckle and get out. Staggering your way up the stairs and waiting for Leon to hurry up and unlock the front door. 

His thick hair bounces with each step he takes as he jogs his way towards you. Opening it and walking inside, shutting it and locking it behind you.

He takes his shoes off, leaving them at the door and disappears into the hallway. You sigh, taking your heels off and hurrying to your room. Closing it behind you, you set your shoes on the floor. Flopping onto your bed with a groan. 

Before you could begin to take off your clothes, the power goes out. Leaving you in complete darkness. Double tapping your phone, you put on your flashlight. 

“Leon?” You call out, crawling out of bed to open your door. 

A few beats later there's a loud thud, which makes you jump. Okay, now you are really scared. Soft hums and deafening white noise fills your ears. You go to his door and knock on it. 

No answer, yet again. Did this asshole fall asleep? Great. 

Making your way towards the living room, you hear yet another noise. “Ha ha.. very funny Leon! I know its you.” 

You hope it's just him pulling a prank. Hope.

And when you finally reach to your destination, you move your phone around to see if anyone's there. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a tall black figure. 

Screaming, you almost slip and fall trying to run back into your room. But before you could make it, their hands grab onto your waist as tight as possible. Pulling you back towards their chest. God damn it, you dropped your phone!

“Please let me go!” You start panicking and sobbing, kicking your feet out in hopes that they drop you. “I don't wanna die! Please…!”

They don't, obviously. And you try to elbow them in the stomach, hearing them groan and tighten their grip around you. Putting one hand over your mouth with ease.

The man drags you back into the living room, throwing you on the couch and straddling your hips. You hear him snort and in turn makes your stomach churn with disgust mixed with fear. Sobbing, you feel weak due to being inebriated and scared. Unable to try and push him off of you. 

“You're so stupid,” he says lowly, his gloved hands pinning your wrists down with one, the other one squishing your cheeks together. “So slutty too.” 

His hand leaves your face and traces the curves of your body. Too bad you can't see his face. Stupid mask. 

“W-What do you want from me?” You squeak out, feeling his hand start to grope at your chest with interest. 

“Your virginity, baby.” He coos, ripping off your skimpy nurse dress. The buttons go flying everywhere. His voice sounds familiar though. 

In the state of shock, he takes the opportunity to pull out his knife and cut through your bra. Watching the way your nipples pebble up and how your tits jiggle. Putting his knife back, he groans. Grabbing a tit and squeezing it before letting it go to slap it. 

“Stop it! Why are you doing this to—” 

Listening to the way you gasp and whimper. He repeats it a couple times to each tit, before he pulls up his mask just enough to see his mouth. 

Leaning down, he forces you into a kiss. His hand lightly holding you down by the neck, his thumb gently squeezing the side. Letting you feel lightheaded so that you still panic at the thought of him killing you. 

“Taste so good, pretty girl.” The man laughs into the kiss before he gets off of you. 

Maneuvering you into the missionary position. Pushing your legs down with his weight as he ties your hands together. 

Once he deems it good enough, he gets up and starts to shuffle things around. And lights a few candles, making you squint, noticing something being propped up. Blinking a few times, you see it's a fucking camera. 

“Please, don't do this to me. Please…” you beg him, watching him make his way back to you. 

His hands sliding up your legs, playing with the stockings you have on. “Cute tights you've got on, slut.” He hums, his thumbs trace the lace. 

Moving up until he reaches your panties. “Hm, cute thong too. I see it's nice and soaked for me. And here you were, screaming and crying for me to stop.” He cuts them off of you, dragging the dull tip of his blade against your skin. Seeing you jump as he gets closer to your chubby cunt. 

“Got nothing to say?” The man puts his knife away, his thumb swiping over your folds. Not rubbing where you want him to rub, just teasing around it. 

“Please…” you whine out, trying to move your hips in a way that makes his thumb press against your clit. 

He chuckles, laying between your thighs, holding them up over his shoulders. “I know, I know. You want your pretty pussy to be played with. Want it to be raped too, huh?” Licking up and down your lips, teasingly dipping his tongue into your hole. 

Groaning, he starts to suck and swirl his tongue around your clit. You moan and squirm under him, feeling his hot tongue against your clit feels soo good. Moving your tied hands down to grab at his head. Needing to hold on to something. 

“Mmh.. right there,” you mewl, grabbing at his head harder. Hearing him slurp and moan into your pussy like he's the one that's getting head. 

“Yeah, right here?” He goads, taking your clit between his teeth gently. Nibbling on it and swirling his tongue all over it. And all thoughts in your head became mush. 

It creeps up on you like a jump scare in a movie. One minute you're fine, next minute you are jumping. Not because you're scared, but because you came so hard your body couldn't help but thrash around. 

“I'm… I'm c-coming!” Loud cries came out of your mouth as your legs shook and planted themselves against his head. The fact a camera is recording your every move and word, slips out of your brain and out into his mouth. 

And he greedily latches his mouth onto your hole. Getting every last drop of your cum before he sits up on his haunches and removes his mask. Maybe it's because you just came, but you aren't so alarmed that it's Leon. 

“What the fuck? Leon?!” Your cunt throbs, feeling your heart sink down straight to your ass. You can't even move properly and that makes him smile. 

“What the fuck, Leon?” He mocks you, leaning down to get all up in your face. “So fucking cute,” he hums, squishing your face together before moving it away from him, “so stupid though. I mean, fuck. You'd get wet and spread your legs for any man who wants to lick you open?” 

Leon tuts, giving your cheek a few taps before he pushes down his black sweats. His cock already hard and flushed red at the tip. Giving it a few slow strokes, his other hand gently roams up your body, giving your boob a feel. 

“Gonna let big brother take your virginity? Let me split open this cute cunt?” Leon watches you intently, tapping the weeping tip on your sensitive bud. “Not gonna fuck you until you beg for it.” Grabbing your left leg and lifting it up against his chest. 

You feel your eyes well up with tears once more. Lifting your head, you watch his heavy cock play with your pussy lips. Blinking them away, you swallow the thickness in your throat. 

“Please.. fuck me,” you mumble out, looking away, towards the camera unknowingly. 

“What was that? Speak up, princess.” Leon guides the tip to your hole, letting it kiss your opening. 

“Oh my fucking god! Just fuck me, Leon!” 

Shaking his head disapprovingly, he leans down, pushing it in slowly. “Big brother's gotta fuck this attitude out of you, hm? Yeah, he's gonna keep this fat cunt nice and full until she's learned her lesson.” His dirty brown hair falls into your face as he moans from the sensation of your cunt around his length. 

Keeping his eyes locked into your face as he sinks deeper into you. “Does it hurt, baby?” 

“Yeah,” you clench down on him, your velvety walls squeezing him just right. “It's too big.” A deep whine in your throat bubbles up. 

“Aww, poor pussy’s gonna go through it, yeah? Too bad big brother's cock wants to punish his little sister's cunt. Mhm…” he presses his lips against yours as he humps your wetness, softly making out with you. His hand goes up your arm and holds your hand in reassurance. 

As you lock tongues, he takes the opportunity to go just a bit harder and faster. Groaning as you flutter and cant your hips into his pelvis. The shaven patch of hair just runs against your clit just right. 

Pulling away, he lets go of your leg and hand, holding onto your hip and pushing your face towards the camera. “I'm recording this, smile for the camera baby,” he says between gritted teeth. 

Moaning, you look directly into the lenses, tightening around him. “Mmhh—fuck—please!” you squirm, moving your arms to block your face. Too embarrassed to look into it while he's fucking you. 

“You camera shy now? So adorable, lil sis,” he grunts, plowing even harder now. Both hands gripping onto the fat of your hips, listening to the squelching from your wetness. “You hear that? Sopping wet for your big brother. Tightened up when you were forced to look into the camera. It's okay baby, nobody else will see this video but me.” His thumb starts to swirl around your clit hard. 

Rubbing it fast, feeling you start to come undone on his dick. The feeling of his leather gloves catches onto your clit deliciously. You feel red and hot all over, your stomach tensing up. And you start screaming, legs going numb, feeling your upper body jerk forward as you cum. “Leon!” 

“Fuck!” Leon rabbits his hips into your squelching heat, roughly fucking you into the couch, “didn't know you'd squirt so easily.” He lets out a mix of a moan and a laugh, giving your pussy a few taps before putting you into a mating press. 

Feeling your lace stockings against his head as he drives into his own orgasm. “All fucked out now, mhm. Yeah, big brother's g’nna feed your pussy his cum. Get you fucking pregnant, oh—” 

He growls as his balls plap against your ass. Filling you up with hot white sticky ropes, stuffing you to the brim. But his hips don't stop fucking it into you. Pressing his cold lips against yours, he slows down. 

Leon huffs and leans back, pulling out his still hard cock soaked with a mixture of your fluids and his. Watching your cunt open and close, oozing out his spend. 

He unties your wrists and rubs up and down your sides. “Let me fuck you again, please lil sis?” Feeling your body hiccup and twitch from overstimulation. 

Rubbing your ruined eye makeup, you weakly nod your head. “Uhuh, want it again.” 

And then he's back all over you. Kissing you and groping your tits. Twisting your nipples and pinching them as his mouth makes its way to your neck. Begining to litter you with marks to insinuate you are taken. 

He switches to the other one, giving it the same love and attention he gave to your right breast. And before he stops, he presses a kiss in the valley of your breasts. 

“Okay, on your stomach now.” He guides you to flip over, spreading your ass to watch your holes wink at him. Gives it a smack, loving the way it moves. 

Leon braces himself on his forearm as he pushes the head back in. Whimpering as he presses his chest against your back, arms caging you into the couch. 

“Good god, you're so tight,” humping into you, he whispers into your ear. His breath hot and his voice low, sending chills down your spine and it warms your belly up. 

“This slutty pussy is mine, alright? Won't let any other man come near you. You're my little sister.” 

“Uhuh, s’all yours big brother,” you feed into his fucked up mindset. Letting him fuck you into his idealization of you. Soft, sweet, and pliant. 

Rocking your hips back, you moan into the cushions. With each thrust, he goes deeper and deeper. Making you arch your back from how deep he is. 

Soft squeaks and punched out groans rise from your throat, “Leon, please,” grabbing ahold of his hand and squeezing it. “Oh, fuck, please.” 

His pace starts to pick up, watching the way your head bobbles from his thrusts. Heavy balls plapping away at your clit, making you cry out. He drives himself harder into your wet hole, striving to make you cum again. 

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me? Soak my cock again, uhuh, c’mon baby,” Leon encourages you, whimpering and growling in your ear. The loud slapping noises echoing throughout the room. The smell of sex and sweat twirling in the air like dust particles.

Hot and heavy breaths against your neck as he clumsily kisses your pulse point. You shivering beneath him, milking his cock for all its worth is what drives him crazy. Pushing on your lower back as he grips a cheek and then slaps it. Over and over again. 

Hearing you crying out for him is enough for him to spill his seed once more. He pulls your hair and makes your face visible to the camera, coaxing you through your final orgasm of the night. Listening to you squeal and call out his name. 

“Good girl. You ready for me to pump this cunt up full with my cum?” Leon starts humping you, barely pulling out as he waits for your answer. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” Eyes rolling into the back of your head as he slams his hips against your ass. 

About a half a dozen of thrusts, he spurts his load deep into your womb. Letting go of your hair, he lazily grinds his seed into your throbbing pussy as much as he can, before all of it comes pooling out. 

“Fuck me, jesus christ. ‘Bout emptied my balls into you. Fuck, I was backed up.” Leon pulls out of you and spreads you open, watching it bubble and pop out. Biting his lip as he pushes it back in with his thumb. 

Pulling up his pants, he grabs a few tissues to clean you up. As well as the couch. Oops, hope your parents don't notice any stains! 

“I'm so full,” you mumble, wincing as you turn on your back. “It's going to be your fault if I can't walk tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He snorts, giving you a chaste kiss on the forehead. 

“Oh shit, I've got to stop the recording,” he goes over and shuts it off with a dopey smile on his face. “taking your first time on our first tape together.” 

Groaning, you push him away as he begins to snuggle with you. “God. Gross, get out of here.” 

“C'mon, I'll buy you as many sour patch kids and chocolates as you want. But first, let's go clean up properly.” He convinces you and you allow him to carry you bridal style into the bathroom. 

Of course, with a roll of your eyes with it too. “You better.” Because you wouldn't be his cute baby sis without having some sort of attitude towards him. Even after he fucked your brains out. 

(genuinely forgot where i got the divider for the content warning. augh. I'll find it later.)

[pedrospatch]

more hearts than mine

Frankie Morales x Female Reader

summary: Frankie promises you he’s not going anywhere.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. no physical description of reader, no mention of her age, reader has both of her parents, reader has a little sister (15 and unnamed), reader has a close relationship with her family (cannot say i am writing this from experience oop), reader is from a small, unnamed town somewhere in the midwest (state not specified), established relationship, mention of ex-boyfriend, mentions of alcohol consumption, reassurance, fluff, smutty themes towards the end but no smut.

word count: 2k

a/n: this was not planned and very spur of the moment. i think i needed a palette cleanse from writing so much joel. it’s my first time writing for frankie but i like the way it turned out. <3 i it’s 3 am, i wrote this in an hour and it is not proofread, so please excuse any errors. this is based on a song called more hearts than mine by ingrid andress.

“It’s late,” you worry. “Where could they be?”

Amused, your mother watches you anxiously pace back and forth in front of the dining room table. “My darling, can you please relax? They probably hit some traffic on their way back home from the lake. I bet you anything those two will be walking through the front door any second now,” she assures you. At that precise moment, her cell phone vibrates on the table, the loud buzzing noise garnering her attention. She picks it up and raises her eyebrows in complete surprise. “Oh. Or maybe not. Your father just texted me and said they’re stopping for a couple of drinks at the bar. He says not to wait up for them.”

Halting mid pace, you whirl around and stare at her. 

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope.” She shows you the text. “See?”

“Jesus,” you mutter. Shaking your head, you drop down into the chair across from hers.

“That’s a pretty good sign. Don’t you think so, honey?”

It is because your father taking your boyfriend out on a fishing trip and then taking him to his favorite bar for drinks afterwards means that their time alone together has gone well. But, even though your father had clearly taken a liking to him, he won’t ever show it. Sure, he’ll buy him dinner and he’ll buy him drinks, he’ll check his tires and take a look underneath the hood of his pickup truck to make sure everything looks good, but he’ll do it with a scowl on his face and a standoffish attitude.

“He hates me, baby. Your old man hates me,” Frankie declared after his first dinner with your family. You had both arrived in your hometown that same evening after a gruelling, sixteen hour drive to the midwest. Despite being exhausted from the trip, he’d put his best foot forward for them—he’d charmed your mother and your little sister, had them both wrapped around his finger by the time dessert had been served. But your father, oh he had been much harder for him to win over. “He barely said two words to me all night.”

“My dad doesn’t hate you,” you swore to him, rubbing a soft, soothing circle into his broad back. “Do you want to know how I know that?”

“How?”

“Because he poured you a drink.”

He’d snorted. “What, and that means he likes me?”

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves,” you joked with a giggle. “It’s still too early to tell if he likes you. But one thing is for sure, he doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t break out a bottle of whiskey for someone he hates, Frankie.”

Sighing, you lift your legs, pulling your knees up to your chest.

Poor Frankie. He’s probably spent the better part of the whole day just trying to figure him out.

“I like him,” your mother says after a minute. “I like him a lot.”

“What a coincidence,” you grin. “I like him a lot too.”

She laughs. “I’m serious! He’s incredible, darling. He is so handsome. He’s sweet. Seems like he’s got a really good head on his shoulders—”

“Are we talking about Francisco?” Your sister walks into the dining room with can of Dr. Pepper in one hand and her cell phone in the other.

“As a matter of fact, we are.” Your mother smiles. “Isn’t he great?”

“He’s kinda perfect, actually.” She takes a casual sip of her soda and raises an eyebrow at you. “I have to admit though, I’m afraid to get attached to Frankie. You know, after what happened with Jake—”

You wince at the mention of your ex-boyfriend’s name.

Your mother hisses her name, angrily.

“I’m just saying! When he broke up with you, it’s like he broke up with all of us. It sucked.” She shrugs, adding, “I mean, even dad was sad about it for months. Wasn’t he, mom?”

“Don’t you have a paper to write?” Your mother glares at her.

Your sister starts towards the staircase, but stops and glances over her shoulder. “I like Frankie,” she tells you, smiling wryly. “And I really hope he sticks around.” With that, she disappears upstairs.

Sighing heavily, your mom turns to you. “Don’t listen to her. She’s only fifteen, she doesn’t know any better. She doesn’t understand what happened—”

Pushing away from the table, you stand up. 

“I’m going to take a walk,” you murmur. “I need some fresh air.”

“Hermosa?”

You stir at the sound of Frankie’s voice.

“Baby. Hey. Wake up.”

“Mm?” you mumble sleepily. “Frankie, what are—ow!”

You groan when he switches on the lamp on the beside table. Rolling over, you bury your face into your pillow.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, chuckling softly. The twin sized mattress squeaks, dipping as he somehow squeezes himself beside you on your childhood bed. He’s staying in the guest room down the hallway—you parents, who were incredibly old school, had insisted the two of you sleep in separate bedrooms during your stay. Draping his arm around you, he leans down and nuzzles into the side of your face. Even with your nose buried in your pillow, you pick up the scent of sunscreen mingled with beer. “Just wanted to tell you I’m back home.”

Lifting your head, you blink furiously until your blurred vision stabilizes.

“What—what time is it?”

“Eleven.” Frankie’s cheeks and nose are red, sunburned from having been out on your dad’s boat all afternoon. You’re willing to bet he’d forgotten to put the sunscreen on his face. Even though you’d warned him a hundred times not to forget.

“What?” You sit up, prompting him to do the same. “It’s eleven and you only now just got back?”

“Your old man took me to Gordon’s,” Frankie explains, referring to one of the only few bars your small town had to offer. It was the place where you would meet with your old high school friends to catch up with each other whenever you were home visiting. At some point this week, you would be sitting in a booth at that old bar with them, introducing Frankie, and squirming when they began to tell him embarrassing stories of all those crazy nights from your senior year. “We went in with plans to have a couple beers before coming home, but then we ran into some of his buddies there. He introduced me, they bought us more drinks, and we played a game of pool. Your dad whooped my ass, of course.”

“How did fishing go?”

“Great. Y’know, once he stopped looking at me like he wanted to throw me overboard.”

You let out an amused huff. “He would never.”

“I don’t know. That man is pretty hard to read.” Frankie reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “One minute we’d be talking, shooting the shit while we waited for the fish to bite, and the next he would look at me like he was seriously thinking about pushing me off his boat and into the water.” He squeezes your hand, a deep laugh rumbling through his chest. “I spent all goddamn day with him and I still can’t tell if he likes me yet or not.”

Lifting his hand, you press a tender kiss to the back of it, a sweet token of affection.

“He likes you, Frankie,” you murmur against his skin. “I know it. My whole family likes you. Except my mom—”

He stiffens. “What?”

“She loves you.”

Frankie turns to you. Despite your smile, he can see the hint of concern in your eyes. “Baby, what’s the matter?”

You hesitate.

After what your sister had said earlier that evening, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d made a mistake and brought him home too soon. You and Frankie had been together for about six months now, and besides having a drawer of your things at his place for when you stayed overnight, you two hadn’t really sat down to talk about what the next step in your relationship would be—you and Frankie hadn’t discussed the possibility of a future together. Truth be told, you had never felt the need to question him about where this was heading. You’d been perfectly content in allowing things to unfold between you without putting any kind of pressure on yourself, or on him. At least, up until now, you had been content.

You’d been silly to think bringing Frankie home to meet your family wouldn’t be all that big of a deal, that it wouldn’t make you consider what came next. But you had forgotten how easily your mother falls in love, how quickly your little sister can form an attachment, and how your father, despite being rough around the edges, feels every heartache you go through as if it’s his own.

You think back to when your previous relationship went down in flames, you remember the helpless look on your father’s face whenever he would see you crying. “I never liked him,” he’d said, pouring himself a glass of whiskey over ice. But that had been a lie. He’d seen him as the son he never had. He lost something, too. Your whole family had to heal from that loss along with you.

Part of you is afraid that it could happen again.

“Amor?”

Frankie’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

You glance down at your hand in his. “Frankie, the last thing I want to do is scare you off,” you start to say, a nervous edge to your tone. “Or put any kind of pressure on you to give me anything more than what you have already given me. But now that you’ve met my family, I can’t help but worry a little bit.”

He frowns. “What are you worried about?”

Sighing, you confess, “My last relationship—it didn’t end very well, Frankie. My family loved him, adored him the way I can see they’re already starting to adore you. When he broke up with me, he broke more hearts than just mine.” You force yourself to look up, and meet his gaze with a wistful smile. “I guess there’s a part of me that’s scared it’ll happen again.”

Frankie’s dark brown eyes soften. “Oh baby, there’s no need to be scared. That’s never gonna happen.”

“How can you be so sure it’ll never happen?”

“Easy, because I love you. And I know you love me.” He reaches over with his free hand and he cups the side of your face, his thumb grazing over the soft skin of your cheekbone. “I’m in this for the long haul. I wouldn’t have driven sixteen hours across the country with you to come meet your family if I wasn’t. I’m serious about you—I’m serious about us, baby.”

Frankie leans in, gently pressing his mouth to yours in a chaste, but sweet kiss.

“Do you wanna know what I see when I look at you?” he mumbles against your lips.

“What do you see?”

“Mi futuro,” he tells you. “I see my future.”

Warmth blossoms in your chest. “You do?”

“I do. Believe me, I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, and so is your family,” Frankie grins. “Your dad is gonna have plenty of opportunities to contemplate throwing me off his boat and into the lake.”

You giggle as he kisses you again before trailing his lips down to your neck. “Frankie,” you say his name warningly as he pushes you onto your back. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he says innocently, positioning himself on top of you. He plants his hands on either side of your head and dips his head, nipping lightly at the tender flesh over your pulse point. “How thin are these walls?”

“Francisco Morales, no, you are not fucking me in my parent’s house, not in my childhood bedroom—”

His bulge brushes against your thigh and you gasp.

“Guess I’ll head back to the guest room, then,” Frankie murmurs, feathering one last kiss onto your neck.

He starts to climb off of you and your hands shoot out, curling around fistfuls of his shirt to stop him.

“I can be quiet,” you whisper, biting your bottom lip. You take one of his hands and guide it underneath the hem of the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing to the apex of your thighs. “Can you?”

“Hermosa,” Frankie groans, running a finger along the damp cotton of your panties. He slips it beneath the fabric, his blood rushing south when he meets your slick folds. “God, I fucking hope so, or else I’ll actually end up at the bottom of that fucking lake.”

divider credit to @saradika 🤍

[sparkles-and-trash]

dabihawks, pro heroes au

It was embarrassing, really, to be standing here off to the sides sulking at a party like this, especially over something so very not important.

There were a lot of things that were important to Keigo Takami, aka pro hero Hawks, and winning was certainly not one of them.

Justice, peace, freedom, good food, a safe place to rest, those were important things in Keigo's life.

Winning was NOT up there.

So why the hell did this bother him so much?

He had just broken the Top 10 rankings during his first year as a pro, that was crazy, that was unheard of!

Except for the fact that pro hero Super Nova did it last year.

The first one who ever did.

And look, that wasn't even fair, because Keigo hadn't even debuted yet!

But now he was doomed to be the second one out. The second youngest to break though top 10, and he was still ranked behind goddamn Super Nova.

All that training with the commission, his whole life dedicated to this, and sure, he saved a lot of people, and that should matter the most, but...

Of course it mattered the most.

Keigo sighed deeply, took a sip of the Champagne that he definitely should not be drinking, blew his bangs out of his face, and used his wings to push himself away from the wall he'd been clinging to.

...right into another person.

"Oh shit, I mean, oops, I'm sorry!" Keigo stammered nervously, all the social training he'd been undergoing flying out the window.

He tried to put on a charming but apologetic smile as he looked up, but it quickly fell from his face as he realized he's just pushed himself right into goddamn Super Nova.

Of all the fucking people at this party.

The (beautiful) white haired man looked down at him with those (striking) blue eyes and raised his hands in surrender.

"Hey kid, no worries!" he said with a real charming smile, and Keigo just about fucking had it.

"I'm not a kid."

He didn't quite mean for the sentence to come out that venomous, but fuck it. The guy kinda deserved it.

"What?" Super Nova asked, clearly confused by Keigo's reaction.

Keigo rolled his eyes.

"I'm barley a year younger than you."

Super Nova nodded.

"I know, I didn't mean anything by it, I just -"

"See me as inferior?" Keigo finished the sentence for him, and realized he probably should have stopped after one glass of Champagne.

He could not handle alcohol to have his life.

The friendliness fell off Super Nova's face totally now, and he grabbed Keigo but the upper arm gently, but firmly.

"I think you need some air," he declared, and Keigo couldn't find it in himself to disagree.

The white haired hero guided Keigo out to a small balcony out in the long hallway outside the gala room, and the fresh air hitting his face was one of the most amazing things Keigo had ever felt.

Maybe next to the other hero's hand around his arm.

Wait, what?

"You feelin' any better?" said hero asked, and Keigo nodded.

"Yeah, I guess," he mumbled, and damn Super Nova smirked at him again.

This time however, it wasn't fury that bloomed in Keigo's chest.

"Champagne and warm, stuffy galas gets to the best of us, man," the other pro said casually, and Keigo rolled his eyes.

"What, because you have so much experience with that?" Keigo asked sarcastically, but to his surprise Super Nova nodded.

"Yeah, actually, I do," he said with a smirk as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his suit jacket.

Of fucking course.

He held on up to offer to Keigo, and calmly put I back when Keigo shook his head.

"Don't you want on yourself?" Keigo asked, and Super Nova shrugged.

"It's okay, if you don't smoke I bet you don't want me puffing smoke up in your face, either."

Keigo pursed his lips.

"Oh. Thanks, I guess," he mumbled, and Super Nova chuckled.

"No worries, little bird."

Keigo felt his mouth fall open at the nerve of this guy, but didn't say anything.

"Anyways, it was my second gala as a pro, I had five glasses of Champagne because of the heat and ended up cursing out my dad in front of all the poor people in the kitchen of this place," Super Nova finished with a shake of his head.

"Not my finest moment."

Keigo tilted his head, trying to figure out if he was being serious.

"What, you yelled at Endeavor if front of the whole kitchen staff?" he finally asked, and got rewarded with a slightly surprised expression on the other man's face.

"So you do know," he said, and it was finally Keigo's turn to smirk.

"That you're a Todoroki?" he asked, and the other man nodded.

"I might be fresh on the pro circuit, but I wasn't born yesterday," Keigo said as he felt a brave flare in his chest and decided to lean closer to the other hero to whisper;

"Touya."

Touya smirked back at him, taking the bait and leaning in further himself.

"Well I'd be damned, little bird," he said slyly.

Keigo felt his face turn pink, but didn't back down.

"I wasn't the second youngest to break into the top 10 circuit for nothing, you know," he said with a wink, and Touya laughed softly.

"First one who wasn't a nepo baby, tho," the other hero said with a wink back at him.

Keigo raised his eyebrows as he finally leaned back a little.

"Maybe not in the traditional way, no, but..." he trailed off, not sure how to explain the whole commission thing just like that.

Touya raised his eyebrows.

"But?" he asked with a curious tilt of his head.

"But, I think I need a little more champagne before I'm ready for that conversation," Keigo admitted, and Touya smirked.

"Well, I happen to know my way around the kitchen of this place, so if I get the Champagne, and you'll give me the full story?"

Krig chuckled.

"I guess that would be a fair trade," he admitted, and Touya smiled back.

"Meet you back here in five?" he asked, and Keigo nodded.

"Deal," he agreed, and Touya snickered.

"Deal, indeed, little bird."

[anonymous-dentist]

hi dear AD ^_^ some ordem perhaps?? maybe some cesar with thiago pretty please.....

(not picky at ALL anything about any of my ordem guys would be so great :p)

Congrats on making me write my first ever real Ordem fic!!!

-

Idly, Cesar wonders if his father ever had to kick down any doors. Yes, right? He was some kind of stuntman, of course he's kicked down doors.

...He had kicked down doors.

Joui and Liz are drunk. Arthur is looking at the wall like it's personally wronged him. Thiago is on his phone. And Cesar?

Well.

Cesar has a bag of ice on his ankle because, of course, he's also drunk. And, because he's drunk, he decided to kick the fucking door like an idiot. His brain feels like soup, and his ankle feels like a broken stalk of celery. (Liz says that it isn't broken, but isn't she a doctor for dead people? A... what's it called, mortician? Does she even know what living ankles look like?)

Sighing, Cesar throws his head back and looks up at the ceiling. There's a stain on it that almost looks like a dick.

He cracks a smile and flails a hand in Thiago's general direction.

"Hey," he says. "Hey, Thiago. Hey. Look."

He points up.

Thiago, being an honorable man, looks up. He laughs and lifts his phone to take a picture.

Did Cesar's father ever have dicks on his phone?

...Why is that even a question?

The dick on the ceiling judges Cesar harshly. As does the alcohol currently sitting in Cesar's poor hungry stomach.

"It's unnatural," Cesar declares. "It's got eyes, I swear."

Thiago hums thoughtfully. "Maybe, maybe. Or maybe that's just Joui admiring your handsome face again."

"What?" asks Cesar.

"What?" asks Joui. "Thiago-sensei, your eyes need checked."

Thiago raises his hands defensively. "Hey! It's my ears that are screwed up, not my eyes!"

Liz snorts. "Darling, your eyes don't work. You keep talking to furniture thinking it's us."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Thiago plainly says. He taps his temple. "I have the eyes of a hawk, my dear."

At the mention of birds of prey, Arthur's eyes water.

Cesar adjusts the ice on his ankle. He's pretty sure that the dick is still looking at him. Rudely.

He doesn't believe in Heaven or anything, and he certainly doesn't believe that his father ended up there, but maybe it's his father looking down upon him and asking why his darling son is getting wasted in a bar and not, like, fuck, going to law school or something.

Cesar could have gone to law school. He still could, hypothetically. He can hack himself in, easy. Harvard. Yale.

"What is that on the ceiling?" Joui gasps. He pulls out his own phone. "Arthur-kun, get on a chair."

Arthur, of course, clambers up onto a chair pulled near the ceiling dick. He strikes a double peace sign as Joui snaps at least a dozen pictures.

And then Arthur falls off the chair and screams on his way down and crashes right into a table filled with empty glasses.

Cesar wonders if his father ever fell off a chair in a bar. Probably. He was stupid enough to do it.

Tears threaten to sting at Cesar's eyes. He can't tell if it's emotional pain from his literal dead father or physical pain from his possibly-broken ankle.

Either way, he takes a picture of the fallen Arthur. It feels like a bandage, fixing him right up.

"Aw, fuck," Arthur whines as he slides off the table. "The ceiling is paranormal. It pushed me!"

Cesar nods sagely. "Of course."

He chooses not to mention that Arthur is drunk out of his mind and that the chairs in this place look barely sturdy enough to survive a bar fight.

Liz sighs and pushes back from the table. "Come here. If you broke something like Cesar did, I'm going to lock everyone into a room until the morning."

"If you can get up the stairs," Joui quietly says.

Cesar lets out such a loud laugh at that that he surprises himself.

He blinks.

Joui beams as bright as a car's headlights.

Cesar looks down at his ice pack. It's starting to melt.

Did his father ever have to deal with this kind of thing? He was a veteran or something, right? With the paranormal? Or something? And that's why he wasn't there to teach Cesar how to ride a bike or anything? Or something?

Arthur toddles over to Liz while rubbing his tailbone mournfully.

"I think our friend broke his ass," Thiago astutely says.

"Do I need to take my pants off?" Arthur asks.

"Please don't," Liz responds.

"Are you sure?"

"Very sure."

"I can if you want me to."

"Who said I wanted you to!?"

"Oh, no, my belt is stuck..."

"Keep your pants on, for fuck's sake!"

Cesar looks back up at the dick on the ceiling.

"It's a little big, don't you think?" Thiago asks, following his gaze.

Cesar nods. "Very unrealistic."

"It looks broken," Joui adds.

"How do you know what a broken dick looks like?" Arthur asks.

Joui doesn't answer. He takes a drink instead, and then he proceeds to fall sideways out of his chair and onto the floor unconscious.

Cesar watches him fall.

Stuntman.

Thiago clicks his tongue, clearly holding back laughter. He gets up shakily to help Joui into a more comfortable position.

Liz is checking Arthur's ass out... medically. His pants are still on, but she's poking his lower back with purpose. He looks mildly embarrassed. She looks like she's trying not to think about what she's doing.

Cesar adjusts his ice.

Thiago knew Cesar's father. He might have gotten door-kicking advice from him, that's why he's so good at it compared to Cesar. (But he also fails just as often as Cesar does, so...)

If Cesar's father was still around, he wouldn't be letting Cesar kick any doors down. He would be nursing a sore ankle instead of Cesar, and he would be punching ooze monsters and chasing weird European scientists and, like. Breathing.

He hadn't been much of a father. He couldn't teach Cesar how to ride a bike or skateboard or fish. But maybe there's a universe where he did do all those things, and where he taught Cesar how to successfully kick a door down.

Cesar smiles at the thought.

Wouldn't that have been nice?

[ladykailitha]

Here we go! The scene that started it all. The reason for the fic. Yes, the story is based on the song “Low Key in Love” by The Struts ft. Paris Jackson, but this was the scene that kept replying in my head until I wrote it. Also, you’ll need tissues. I cry every time I read this, sooo...

***

Let it not be said that that Alexander Harrington, known to his friends as Xander, didn’t know how to throw a party. When The Kings got signed his son’s senior year of high school, he threw the biggest bash the town had ever seen.

He had to invite everyone, of course. Though if he had had his way only the best people would have been able to come. But as he looked around his home satisfied, he figured it was a good thing to let the lowly masses see for once how the other half lived. Let them seethe in their jealousy and envy.

Steve on the other hand was miserable. He hated it. He hated Tommy. He hated Billy. And fuck it, let’s throw hating Jonathan in there as a treat. Because seriously what. The. Honest. Fuck? Where had he been hiding all that talent? Under a fucking rock? It wasn’t fair. Jonathan was naturally talented where Steve had to work so hard to get the moves right. Something Billy was always sure to mock.

He was sitting in his living room watching everyone have fun without him. People had long since stopped congratulating him on his record deal hours ago. Steve vaguely wondered where his father was. Probably smoozing with Tommy’s dad. Steve scoffed. He knew Alexander Harrington wouldn’t be deigning to talk to Joyce Byers or Neil Hargrove. One was working poor, the other was straight up trailer trash.

He could see Joyce talking to Jonathan in the corner of the room, rubbing his back and muttering comforting promises. Steve didn’t even think his mother had even stayed past greeting the parents of her son’s band before fucking off to get drunk off her ass in some fancy hotel bar. Portia Harrington did not mingle.

Steve got up and wandered in the direction of his room. Well, he tried to wander, but it was more like a beeline because no one even questioned his path or stopped him to say hello. In his own fucking house. Yeah. He was done.

He opened the door to his room and was shocked to see someone was already in it. The other boy had long brown, curly hair and deep soulful eyes. Steve gulped. He had never thought about how attractive boys could be until that moment.

Maybe there had been some fleeting crushes and even more fleeting glances at boys in the shower room or hot actors. But until this moment with this boy, Steve never really thought too deeply about it. He sure the hell was now, though.

“Hey!” the other boy said, whirling around to face him. “If it isn’t the man of the hour!”

Steve could smell the alcohol from here, but he wasn’t sure if it was that the boy had been drinking or if it was coming from the shirt the boy held in one of his hands. But now that he could see the boy’s face he knew exactly who it was.

“Munson, what the fuck are you doing in my room?” Steve spit out before his brain could catch up to his mouth.

Eddie blushed. His cheeks were already rosy with the alcohol but they burned red in embarrassment. “I was looking for the bathroom.”

Steve raised his eyebrow.

“Some asshole spilled drink on my favorite Dio shirt and I was trying to find a way to clean it,” Eddie said with a winsome grin, he held up the shirt to show him. Then he tried to take a step closer but tripped stumbling straight into Steve’s arms. “Did anyone tell you you have really pretty eyes?”

It was Steve’s turn to blush as he held Eddie up. “No. If anyone compliments me, it’s usually the hair.” He paused and cocked his head thoughtfully. “Or the ass.”

Eddie hummed appreciatively. “Both are pretty amazing,” he agreed, standing up enough to put one hand in Steve’s hair and the other on his ass.

Steve’s stomach swooped.

“You like that, pretty boy?” Eddie asked, pulling Steve closer.  

He nodded and Eddie leaned forward to kiss him. Steve had been kissed and had kissed several girls up to this point, but this? This was on a whole other continent. It felt good.

Steve’s hands immediately went for Eddie’s hair, having been wanting to know what it felt like for years. And it was softer and silkier than he could have imagined.

Eddie broke off their kiss and Steve whined his loss. “Who knew Stevie boy liked the boys.”

Steve pressed forward and recaptured Eddie’s lips. Their hands immediately went for each other’s clothes, grasping and tugging as they tried to get at skin. They tumbled toward the bed as they scrambled to get Steve’s shirt and their pants off.

They land on the bed with a thump and a giggle. Steve’s shirt had gone and Eddie’s pants were unbuttoned.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Steve breathed, straddling over Eddie’s hips.

Eddie grinned, reaching up for him. “Then come get me, big boy.”

Steve leaned down to kiss him again, just then the door slammed opened and Steve’s dad stood at the door. There was no mistaking Eddie for attacking Steve, not with Steve on top. It was very clear that both boys were very into what was happening too.

Mr Harrington pulled Steve off of Eddie throwing him to the ground. He wasn’t a beefy guy, but Xander Harrington boxed to keep in shape. Tossing a surprised Steve took very little effort on his part. He grabbed Eddie and hauled the drunk young man out the back door. He tossed him onto the cold hard pavement around the swimming pool.

“Get the fuck out of my house!” Mr Harrington sneered. “And if I see you back here before we leave for LA, just know I’ve got a shotgun and the best lawyers in the state.”

Steve who had been following close behind, rushed to Eddie’s side. He looked around for help, but of the few people milling about by the pool, none of them were paying this little drama any mind.

“And no son of mine will be a queer, do you understand?” Mr Harrington roared.

Steve tried to help Eddie to his feet, but Eddie kept shrugging him off.

“Eddie!” Steve murmured. “Just...please!”

Eddie looked over at Steve as if seeing him for the first time. He could tell that Steve hadn’t planned any of this. That Steve was just as distressed as he was about Xander Harrington’s rage. He let Steve help him to his feet and whispered. “Run away with me. Come find me tomorrow at the park behind the community pool.”

Steve nodded, a small, barely there movement. But it was enough. Eddie staggered away from the party, head pounding louder than his heart.

*

Steve showed up at the park picnic table, backpack slung over his shoulder, Eddie’s shirt in his hand. He managed to get it cleaned and dried so he could return it.

Eddie was already there nursing a hangover of epic proportions. He had dark circles under his eyes like bruises and red, puffy eyes. He whirled around to see Steve standing awkwardly at the edge of the trees.

“What do you want, Harrington?” Eddie snarled from the pain in his head.

Steve hesitated a bit before lurching forward with the shirt. “Um...you left this at my place last night. You said it was your favorite so I wanted to get it back to you.”

“So that’s where it went,” Eddie said, taking it from Steve gingerly, unsure were this bout of kindness was coming from.

“You don’t remember leaving it last night?” Steve asked, his voice cracking.

“Fuck, man,” Eddie sneered. “I drank so much last night I couldn’t even remember my own name this morning.”

Steve lips quiver. “You don’t remember any of it?”

Eddie snapped his fingers. “Wait I do remember being thrown out for kissing a guy. You wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, would you?”

Steve gulped taking a step back. “No! Of course not.”

Eddie eyed him warily. He could tell Steve was lying. But it was a strange kind of reaction. Like Steve was just as terrified of him, as Eddie was of Steve. That couldn’t be right.

“Whatever, man,” Eddie sneered. “Just go.”

Steve took a step toward him and Eddie leveled him with a glare. Steve stopped in his tracks, tears welling up in his eyes.

“You really don’t remember any of it?” he whispered.

“Not a god damned thing,” Eddie bit out. He was starting to worry that he had seen something he shouldn’t have or done something he shouldn’t have. Because Steve was really starting to freak out.

There was a snap of a twig beyond the tree line and Steve startled like a wounded animal. He turned around and ran the opposite direction of the noise and Eddie tilted his head.

What on earth had that been about?

Jeff came out of the trees with McDonald’s and hot coffee. “Best hangover cure there ever was.”

Eddie nodded and took his food from his friend. Jeff spotted the shirt next to him.

“Oh hey, man, you found it!” he said excitedly.

Eddie just nodded and munched quietly on his food. And as he ate, his head felt better but there was a great big black void where his memories of last night were concerned.

Over the next couple of days he kept expecting Harrington to come back, but the boy remained absent. He didn’t even know why he was waiting. Or what he was waiting for. But he felt it like a hole in his chest.

The next time he saw Steve Harrington in person was when he was introducing himself to the band at the sound check ten years later at the Love Loud concert as if they were total strangers. Just further proof the Munson Doctrine is never wrong.

***

I’m tagging everyone from the Star Child main list

Tag List: @bejeweledbaby @eboyawstenn @moonshadows-13 @ohlook-afrog @goodolefashionedloverboi @linkydinky06 @livelaughlexa @spectrum-spectre @cutepumpkin4 @whatthemeepever @gleek4twd @anything-thats-rock-and-roll @novelnovella @celtrose-ish @artiststarme @plasticcrotches  @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @anaibis @nelotegreitic @steddieassheg0es @abstractnaturaldisaster @scheodingers-muppet @tiny-enthusiast @yes-im-your-mom @thegingerrapunzel @milf-harrington @avacrebs @gregre369 @raisedbylibrarians @reverseteehee @lillys-weird-world @deadlydodos @runyousillydetective @justrandomfandomstm @piebook67 @clumsywriter @donttouchmycarrots @fiore-della-valle @idkareallyreallygoodname  @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @imfinereallyy @ravenpainter @ellietheasexylibrarian @maya-custodios-dionach @child-of-cthulhu @estrellami-1 @lillithhellfire @nerdsconquerall @space-invading-pigeon @localgaydisaster @bookbinderbitch

[urfavoritedcwhore]

the russian boy//part four

warnings: cursing, mentions of sex, alcohol usage

lowercase intended

!reminder! boris’s first language is not English, so in some parts he’ll be speaking broken English. the writing “mistakes” in his dialect is intentional:)

part four: the sleepover (do or tell)

as we lay on the couch watching movies boris turns to me, "do you want drink?", he says gesturing to the vodka bottle outside. i mean im honestly still drunk but why not keep the party going. "if you're drinking i will.", i say with a shrug. he grins and goes outside to get the bottle. i guess tonight will be a blackout night, but i'm not worried. tomorrow's friday and if im too hungover ill just tell my teachers that im exhausted from the move so they're not suspicious. boris comes back inside with the vodka and plops down on the couch, closer than he was before. he take a swig from the bottle while looking straight at me. i smile and take the bottle from his hands when he pulls it away from his lips. it only has about 5 more shots in it, i guess we drank a fuck more than i thought we did. i bring the bottle to my lips and take about 2 shots, not wanting to drink it all. i pull the bottle back down from my mouth, before i can wipe my lips boris wipes them with his thumb. this man knows how to make my pussy throb, im tellin ya that. we both let out a small giggle and lean back into the couch. i place the bottle in the small space between us so that he can access it easily when he wants more. after about 5 seconds of silence, he speaks up. "you want to play game? could be fun.", he says turning towards me. what kinda game does this kid have in mind? fuck i hope it's not some weird strip game or something, not saying i wouldn't play, the problem is i need to be his friend before i have sex with him. i like this dude, maybe actually like like him. is that crazy? i only met him today, and maybe it's the liquor talking but fuck, i feel like we just kinda connected. it's a stupid crush that i don't want to have. i don't want to get too comfortable here, and i don't want to have a one night stand with my new friend. i speak up, "what kind of game?", i say raising my eyebrow suspiciously and looking at him. he smiles, "potter taught it to me, i think is called tell or do? is like when you pick "tell", you have to tell me something i ask, or if you pick "do" you have to do something i say.", he says trying his best to explain. "and if you don't want to tell or do what the other person picks, you have to drink.", he continues pointing to the bottle between us. this boy means truth or dare. you know what, i'm not gonna correct him i'll let him have this one. i'm honestly a little scared the game might get out of hand, but fuck it. if it gets out of hand oh well. it might not be ideal to do shit with this man, but the way he looks right now, i know i wouldn't be able to deny it. if the dare is "have sex with me", then i can just drink, easy peasy. "alright,", i say giggling, "i think i get the rules. i'll play.". boris smiles a happy smile and gets up, he walks over the the freezer and reveals three more bottles of liquor. oh shit. he takes one that looks like it's maybe whiskey and walks over to me. "we probably won't finish bottle tonight, we would get too sick, but we use for the game?", he asks waving it with a smirk.

ok ok good he's not expecting us to drink all that booze, for a second i thought i was gonna have to chicken out and tell him i couldn't. "perfect.", i say with a smile grabbing the bottle from his hand. i put it down on the couch, and pick back up the bottle of vodka laying on the couch. i take another quick shot and look at boris, who's now sitting beside me again. he opens his mouth and tilts his head back. i laugh and poor two shots in his open mouth. he tilts his head back up and swallows before we both let out a laugh. i place the bottle beside the whiskey, and look at him. "so who's going first?", i ask. "do or tell?", he asks me with a smile. i guess im going first. i don't wanna be lame and say tell on the first question, so i choose do. "i'll pick do.", i say hoping he doesn't pick anything too outrageous for me to do. he smiles and stands up jogging to his school bag. before i can even ask what he's doing he's back on the couch and digging through the bag. he pulls out a sharpie and smirks, "draw on potters face.", he says like he thinks he's the smartest person in the world for coming up with this. i look at him a chuckle, "ok fine, but when he wakes up in the morning you have to say you did it, im not taking the blame.", i say still laughing. "yes, he will think is me anyways.", boris says handing me the marker. i get up and walk over to theo, who's now snoring and laying on his back. i hear boris giggling like a child on the couch behind me. i uncap the marker and draw a small tear drop under his eye, and a penis on the tip of his nose. theo doesn't flinch at all, boris was right, once theo's asleep he's not waking up till morning. i cap the marker and look at my work before going back to the couch. boris starts laughing so hard he looks purple. "HAHAHAH, THEO THE GANGSTER, YES?", he exclaims in between laughs. i look at theo again and start absolutely dying, i don't know if it's because im so drunk or because its so childish, but for some reason its just too fucking funny. our laughter dies down after a minute, and i wipe the small tear that escaped my eye, as boris does the same. "ok ok,", i say still catching my breath from laughing, "your turn, tell or do?", i ask him. he thinks about it for a second. "hmm i choose tell." , he said with a shrug. "lameeee!", i say back to him laughing. he nudges me with his elbow, "cmon what do i tell you?", he says smiling. honestly i don't know what to ask him.  i decide to go with the first question on my mind.

"is theo gay?", i whisper to him even though i know theo wouldn't wake up even if i was shouting at the top of my lungs. this makes him let out a throaty laugh and consider my question for a moment, "hmm theo likes both boys and girls, he told everyone last year. i mean i think everyone is a little gay, i can like men and women too, but i don't want my ass fucked.", he says nonchalantly. i almost choke on my own spit. good for theo and boris, no judgement from me, i had a girlfriend for a little while but things didn't work out. i guess all three of us swing both ways, i never would have guessed boris does, but hey the more you know. i smile, "i knew he was a little fruity, no one straight dresses that well!", i say remembering the cargo pants, vintage batman tshirt, and the studded belt theo wore today. boris laughs at this, "yea, potter will roam in thrift shops for hours looking for good clothes he can afford. i usually just wear whatever is clean in my closet, he gets so frustrated when i wear my sweater everywhere.", he says rolling his eyes and looking at theo. i let out a small giggle, " well personally, i think your sweater is very stylish.", i say rolling the sweaters sleeves up. he smiles at me and grabs the left sleeve of the sweater help me roll it up. after he gets the sleeve up he takes a swig of the vodka and hands it to me. i take a drink and set it back on the sofa. i  100% gonna have a hangover tomorrow. "tell or do?", he says wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "tell", i say without hesitation. "oh who's lame now?", he says with a smirk. "oh shut up!", i say slurring and giggling. he laughs, "okay okay, my question is..", he thinks for a moment, "are YOU gay?", he says pointing at me. i laugh at his exaggeration of the word "you". "yea, i mean i'm bi, i like boys and girls like you and theo do.", i tell him moving my hair out of my face. his mouth drops and i can tell that he didn't expect me to say yes. "wait so you have like..had girlfriend?", he asks confused, "cause i like both, but i have never had boyfriend before, just kissed a few boys.", he says with genuine curiosity. "yea i had a girlfriend for awhile, we dated for maybe..8 or 9 months? i can't remember.", i tell him trying to remember how long we dated. he must be as drunk as i am cause he blurts out, "did you have sex????", with the most genuine interest in his voice. "hey! this is tell or do not 20 questions. it's your turn, tell or do?", i say laughing at his question.

"fineee, i pick tell.", he says. "cmon dude are you ever gonna pick do?", i say smiling. "maybe, maybe not, we have to keep playing to figure out.", he says holding his hands up. we continue playing "tell or do", (which is basically just tell or drink now because we both keep choosing tell) until we're both slurring and laughing from all the whisky we've drank to avoid questions. it's my turn when my drunken brain makes my mouth say the first thing it thinks of. "how many people have you done the nasty with?", i say slurring with the whiskey bottle in my hand. usually i wouldn't even consider asking this but when im this drunk my mouth and brain have no filter. i realize what i said and jokingly shake the whiskey bottle at him, "tell or drinkkk.". he laughs, "keep the bottle i tell i tell, but you promise not to laugh?, he says looking at me. "i promise.", i say slurring and putting one hand over my heart. "ok so i sleep with one girl, and im pretty sure i didn't do it right. miała na imię Kailey i-", i cut him off. "english borisss", i say throwing a pillow lightly at him. i've realized the more he drinks the more russian or polish he talks without realizing it. "fuck sorry.", he says trying shaking his head. "her name was kailey, she was my girlfriend, but i'm pretty sure she didn't like because we only did once and a week later she break up with me.", he says explaining in his broken drunken english. "oh shit, that blows.", i say suprised that this sexy man may honestly not be good at fucking. i mean its gonna be pretty bad for a girl to leave him for the way he fucks. "no is okay, she was how do you say...ah whore, she was whore. she leave me to date older man like a year ago. maybe she leave because he has job and can buy her things?", he says like he genuinely doesn't care what the reason was. "well i'm sure you're a good fuck," i say trying to make him feel better, "i've heard russians are freaks in the sheets.", i whisper slurring with a laugh. this makes him chuckle, "ha! yes that is funny, have you slept with russian man before?", he says looking at me with a smirk. before i can realize what im saying i spit out, "no, not yet.", with a half joking flirtatious wink. his face turns red and his eyes grow. before he can say anything i laugh and take a swig of the whiskey, "i'm so fucking tired, i'm probably gonna pass out soon.", i say looking at my phone to realize it's 3:24am. "yea me too, do you want us to go up to bed or stay on couch?", he asks. aw fuck i teased him too hard he thinks something's gonna go down tonight. he notices the look on my face, "nothing weird, i promise, i just don't like sleeping alone and theo's not gonna wake up to sleep with me. is that weird?", he says reassuring me. "no it's not weird, i honestly hate sleeping alone too, i don't know why but i just sleep better with someone next to me.", i say truthfully. i'm guessing this need to not be alone stems somewhere from our mommy/daddy issues, but im not trying to explore that tonight. "okay, good. we can sleep in my room?", he asks pointing up stairs. "sure.", i say glad that im not gonna have to fall asleep on this tiny ass couch. we walk up stairs and into boris's room where we both fall on the bed too exhausted to even turn off the christmas lights on his wall. we're both on our own side of the bed, and just like he said it's nothing weird. he crawls under the blankets and then drapes them over me. "night new girl.", he says with a smile. "goodnight boris.", i say smiling back with a yawn. we fall asleep on our respective sides of the bed facing each other. fuck. this russian boy is too perfect, i mean can anyone blame me for having a crush?

[velvetcloxds]

looking for somebody- send me a gif of a character and I'll write a little baby blurb for it

HOTSHOT | S.B.

word count: 0.9k

warnings: I got carried away, it's a fic now lol

“You have anything non-alcoholic back there?” you asked the bartender, quieter than you should be, probably just barely being heard over the rumble of the birthday party going on around you, the night just about ready to turn rowdy as everyone settled into the shots part of the night. You were clutching your clutch between your hands, looking down at the countertop of the bar, peanut shells and various unidentified liquids littering the messy surface and you tried with all your might to swallow a frown, squeezing between two bar stools to lean over the counter to check for yourself.

“What was that?” the man asked, in the middle of shaking up a cocktail, not bothering to look over at you while someone barked an order at him, clearly not all too phased by the fact that he was busy. 

You felt for the man, throwing him a soft smile and a dismissive hand, knowing your order wasn’t all that important for him to try and manage it between everyone else’s. You wondered how he managed to do it all at once by himself, there was usually someone behind there with him- Sirius, you thought- he was quick on his feet and with his tongue, a regular flirt. You recognized him from high school, not sure how he’d ended up working in a place like this but something made you think he wasn’t all that fussed about how the place ran in his absence, in fact, you were quite sure he’d not mind at all if you jumped in to give the bartender a hand, someone surely should. Before you’d allowed yourself to process the thought, you were sneaking under the bar, fixing your hair, and hesitantly placing your clutch behind one of the blenders. 

“Thought you needed a hand,” you smiled as the bartender in question turned to you in surprise, pausing for barely a second to hear your explanation and in the blink of it you saw his name tag, James, it read. You were sure you’d heard that somewhere. “I can’t do anything fancy but I could manage to open a bottle, pull a lever, or poor a shot,” you offered, already taking a bottle of something from the shelf behind you, not bothering to see what it was.  

“Fine by me, just don’t break anything,” he sighed with a raised brow, stealing the bottle from your hand and replacing it with another. “Tequila, not water,” he deadpanned before going back to his cocktail, missing the embarrassed look on your face as you read the label. The first few order were simple enough, a few beers, some shots, and a random whiskey, it was starting to feel quite fun, despite the high demand and it was much better than trying to dance with a bunch of strangers. 

“I’ll take one of those, love,” a voice demanded from behind you, the empty beer bottles you’d scooped up from the counter falling into the trashcan with an echoed glass thud. “Though, a full one might be better,” he added and you scoffed, pulling a full one from the fridge before turning around to see who the voice belonged to. You weren’t expecting to find the man whose job you’d momentarily stolen, a smirk bright enough to blind you dancing on his lips as you slid the beer over to him. “Thanks,” he took a sip, a slow one, far too simple a gesture to have your knees as weak as they were. “Now, you mind telling me what you’re doing behind my bar? Think I’d remember hiring a pretty little thing like you.” 

“Your bar?”

“Last time I checked,” he was arrogant, not the type that had you balling your first and rolling your eyes, the type that had you leaning onto the very counter you’d been disgusted by an hour ago. 

“James was struggling, thought I should offer him a hand,” you were finding your senses again, raising a brow as he looked around, the rush that sent you back here had passed, leaving a very manageable crowd for James to handle all by himself. 

“I think he’d handled worse.”

“Maybe I just wanted an excuse to run into you,” you tried, surprised by yourself and by the almost animated laugh he offered you, so was he. “Getting behind your bar, getting into your bed, it’s all the same thing to guys like you, no?” 

“Guys like me?” his tone dipped, eyes darkened as he leaned in as well, beer in hand as the other very daringly went to rest under his chin, showing you how interested he was in whatever you’d say next. “You don’t even know my name, darling, and you already think you know me?”

“I know your name,” you shrugged, grabbing your clutch before scurrying beneath the bar and out just as smoothly as before, smiling as you stood up directly next to his stool. “But I guess there won’t be any harm in getting to know you better, prove myself wrong.” 

“I’m free right now,” he quipped and you shook your head, silently scolding him for being so presumptuous. 

“No, you're not, you got to get to work, hotshot,” you informed him, a small scoff earned as he turned in his seat, making no effort to hide the way his eyes traveled down your body before meeting your gaze again. “See you around, Sirius.”

tagging: @cauliflowertree @natashxromanovf @scarlet-prey

[skepsiss]

Heart Beat City -- Steddie

The tang of alcohol on his tongue drenched the room Eddie was in with a blurred glow. The pull of music, dark corners, and vivid exchanges made his drug-riddled brain feel heavy and light all at once. Like a buoy on a bumpy sea, he watched as flutters of people migrated across the dance floor and into private booths. The music was nothing to him: a loud backdrop to shake his chest as he sat in one of those dark corners of the bar. Live music had melted into crackly recorded classics. 

Heart Beat City, Building the Perfect Beast, Reckoning–he could name every one of the songs that bled into one another but didn't care about a single one of them. Summer of love. Boys of the summer. Solo debuts... it was all noise to him at this point. 

He was operating like a machine, raising the bottle to his lips and drinking, watching men and women alike fade into the dark interior of the bar like so much else. He wasn't here alone and even though he had to put effort into remembering who he walked in here with he was aware that he wasn't alone. Gareth, Benson–some of the guys. This wasn't the first time they had crashed a bar outside of Hawkins, piling into a van on a Friday night for a spot of fun. But Eddie wasn't having fun, he was just watching everyone else have fun. Men, women, bodies pressed against one another in a too-crowded bar and he was acting like a moody 85-year-old drinking his sorrows away.

Maybe it was the drugs, maybe it was the poor choice of mixing drugs and alcohol but after he had turned out his pockets and sold the last of the LSD he had come here with he had felt his mood drop. One of the reasons they had chosen this bar was because it was a hookup spot–a friendly hookup spot. It had its back allies and locked doors, one-stall bathrooms, and it was an easy place to hit up to sell. Drug money to buy beer, beer to waste the night away. They were probably going to sleep in the van tonight anyways. 

But Eddie was just watching as his friends filtered out of view, crashing into women like an all-powerful tide, both of their bodies moving together... he wished he could talk to girls like that. He wished that despite his patches, leather, and spikes that it was easier to approach women, but none of them ever picked him. It wasn't the worst, he liked men more anyways. That was why this bar was friendly. 

He put no effort into being approachable, his mood soured by jealousy as people paired off and a new quartet entered the dance floor. Greenhorns and experts alike doing this same dance every Friday night. He was tired of it. He was tired, but despite himself when his beer was finished he walked back up to the bar and ordered another, lingering. He wore bandanas in his pockets and leaned on bar counters, signalled to any wayward man who passed by. In these kinds of bars, it didn't take very long for someone to notice. Light blue for oral, black for rough sex, orange for casual–it all meant something, and people noticed when you hung out at bars like this.

So when men approached Eddie, when people leaned on the bars beside him before his beer made it back to him and asked to buy him a drink he wouldn't even need to smile. He wouldn't need to talk to them like he had to talk to girls to get them interested in him, these men knew right away what to say. They'd test and Eddie would put the neck of the bottle in his mouth, he'd tip it up, and try not to lose focus with his brain half mashed. They'd touch his hand and he'd touch back, pretending that this was some sort of romance, that they had talked for hours and he was charmed by them. These guys, they were all good-looking. It was easy to spot a hookup spot. 

He'd follow them to back allies, locked rooms, and one-stall bathrooms, places where the music was still loud enough that his mind wouldn't wander. Where he could hold his beer by the neck and have someone kissing him as soon as they were in their own dark corner. People, maybe he sold drugs to earlier that night, people who thought he was older than sixteen, seventeen... eighteen. On nights like this, he couldn't even remember if this was perverted or not, he didn't even know how old he was anymore. His brain ground every night since he was fifteen together. Back when he thought allies and private rooms meant romance and that these guys would talk to him again afterward. 

Give up the ghost, turn around, get on your hands and knees–they never talked to him again after that. 

He let the background music that he hated so much fold into his brain–stop his thoughts. His half-finished beer sitting on the dirty floor as some guy indulged in his flesh. Lifting up shirts and pulling down collars, but never fully undressing. 

They all just wanted the same thing anyways, but Eddie always indulged longer than he needed. Kissing them and biting lips until they turned him around or pressed him to his knees. And then his face would be cold against tiles and his body would be all fire, getting sweaty in his too-large jacket and flannel. Choking out sounds and half words, hoping his mind would stay clear enough that he wouldn't pass out from his high. Sometimes he even got to do the choking, and that was rare. Sometimes he'd get to do this more than once in a night. He always felt sloppy the second time around. 

Men would press up against him, wash him away, sail him to somewhere farther than this bar an hour outside Hawkins, somewhere that he knew even his band wouldn't give him a concerned eyebrow raise when he disappeared into the dark shadows. Men would fall over him, hold him tight around his chest, and breathe life into his neck like he mattered to them. Sometimes they'd call him beautiful, or hot and he'd swallow that too. They always complimented him when he swallowed. 

They'd rock the bar from their private room that reeked of beer that stained his knees. And sometimes it would hurt, but he always left feeling grateful and like a part of him was taken away with the man who walked out the door when they were done. Warm and sweaty and full of more than just beer. He loved it and hated it, and tonight he hated it. The way men squealed and the smell of the bathrooms, how he'd read the graffiti on this wall a million times to no satisfaction. It was good, don't doubt that it was good, but the bitter taste of his mouth made him wish that he'd at least be kissed afterward.

Hold me, enfold me, talk to me like I'm someone. 

Then he'd slouch and the music would take him away, his body punched from the gut downwards, indecent as he stood pressed against the wall. Hard breathing, no longer hard cock. Breathe and breathe and listen to the thanks, shake his head no if they asked if he needed something. He'd adjust and pick his beer back up, wash the taste away with more bitterness. They'd break even and he'd stand the rest of the night because it hurt too much to sit. 

He wouldn't check if whoever he came here with came back, he'd just crawl into the van when he'd had enough. They'd knock if they needed to come in and sleep, and only once had he accidentally interrupted something. And then he'd sleep and the next morning they'd all be smiles and groans from being hungover; ask without asking how each of their nights went. No one partied as hard as Eddie Munson, and sometimes Eddie wouldn't even be able to drive them home, someone else at the wheel. Papers with numbers scrawled on them. Arms with new ink, lovely girls who twisted their hair and who got on their knees. 

Eddie's souvenirs were the ones of purple and red marks. Scars on his brain that left him wondering if he'd make it home next time at all. 

Smile and crack and let everyone think he always loved these outings, always loved the way his friends disappeared into dark corners for their own ends and leave him watching the dance floor like a statue of sin. Watch but don't touch. Want but don't love. Sing but unsung.

So when Steve Harrington came around and looked at Eddie with big brown eyes he hated it. He hated that he looked like every guy he had ever seen in every bar he had ever been in. How he was so goddamn handsome. Even when his upper lip wasn't perfectly shaved and you could see the speckled brown of hair on his cheek–what 'disheveled' looked like to Steve Harrington–king of Hawkins High, 6 feet deep in babes, money, and perfect hair. He hated guys like Steve who seemed to effortlessly move through life, who smiled and didn't start a fight when he threatened them. 

He hated guys like Steve Harrington and he didn't know if he wanted to be him and be with him. 

The effect a man like Steve Harrington had on people was toxic at best, and a high at worst. Because Eddie had never found a better drug than getting a crush. It drove him insane, it made him want more, and the comedown was the worst he ever felt, and yet... he'd always go back for more. The floundering, the trying to talk to a guy for real. It was everything he avoided when he went to bars and these stupid goddamn crushes made him want to try. He sounded like an idiot when he tried to talk to people… when he was genuine. And here was Steve Harrington, genuine to a fault who just spoke his mind, crossed his arms, and loved the people around him so hard that he'd sacrifice everything for them. Every ounce of popularity, every single dime, every last hair on his pretty head.

Eddie just wanted to be good enough to be one of those people he'd sacrifice for. 

No, that wasn't true, he didn't want to be any way. He didn't want to be different or to feel like 'he could change for the better, be a better person' for Steve Harrington. He wasn't that far gone, he was still Eddie Munson. But he wanted Steve to be worse. He wanted him to lower his standards and wallow in the mud with The Freak. He was already good enough... he wanted Steve to compromise. 

He had everything Eddie wanted and hated all at once and he wanted Steve to want to give it up. Was that too much to ask? It was too much to ask. And that was why crushes killed Eddie Munson. He knew, deep down, he was unpolished and undesirable and really the only reason the guys at the bars picked him up was because he was easy. Hard to love, easy to fuck. 

Kiss after kiss after kiss after kiss. All he wanted was for one of those to be with Steve. To taste what perfection looked like, to understand how someone who had everything gave it up for the outcasts and the freaks. 

Me too. Eddie yelled into the wind. Me too. He screamed at the void. 

But something amazing happened, something that no drug had ever given to him. It answered him. He heard. Somehow, somewhere, someway... Steve Harrington heard him and answered. 

And he wallowed. 

Eddie tasted perfection. The acidity of sunshine and the spice of daddy's money. How making out in cars and the squeak of leather seats had never felt so good. How Steve, somehow, wanted to know what mud and regret tasted like. That Steve chose him. 

Every pretty girl in Hawkins, and he chose Eddie. 

I love you, I love you, I love you. I need you, I need you, I need you. 

Addicted. 

The worst drug of your life. 

Eddie didn't even have to turn around to get it. He could look right at Steve the whole time, count the moles on his shoulders, and relish in how soft his skin was. He could enjoy the sensation of being on his back instead of his knees and if he wanted to know what Steve's sweat tasted like he could find out. He could see what a guy, fully naked, really looked like. No t-shirts, socks, or pants just unzipped enough to get it up. He could look, and man did he look. Even if this was a fling, even if this lasted until Steve found someone better, he could live with that. He could live with having him for just a few months just so he could experience this. 

Who was he kidding? He was addicted. 

Eddie Munson, island, wanted to strand Steve Harrington. He wanted to be the only thing and everything Steve could ever want or need. He needed to be everything because Steve had already taken every hard edge Eddie had stuffed into the box and pulled it loose. Rounded everything out. Soft. He was already going to fall apart if Steve walked away. He was already 80 percent less. 

But every morning he got to taste sunshine, and every afternoon he got to touch the sky. Steve was elevating him, and he didn't want to come down. It was devastating, and it was everything he had ever wanted. He was going to die to this. Steve owned him.

[bottombatch]

The Withers Romancer 🤣

Yesss! So, this is not a serious fic. Like at all lmao. But I got this idea in my head and I couldn't shake it.

Imagine this around the end of Act 1, so they truly have no idea who Withers is yet: Durge, Shadowheart, and Astarion (pretentious gossipy elf club) start a dare/competition to see who can get a rise out of Withers first. They all take a shot or two at coming onto Withers only for him to be absolutely unaffected.

Eventually Astarion and Shadowheart give up on it, but Durge... Durge continues. She just wants to win the bet, of course. There's no other reason. She's definitely not weirdly enamored with the stupid way he talks or the way he calls her child...

It was a really funny bit that will probably never actually be finished lol. Below the cut is more or less everything I wrote because I'm certain this will never see the light of day otherwise.

"Does Withers even have emotions?" Tav mused, bringing the glass of wine to her lips. It wasn't very good; of such poor quality that it had been left on a cart raided by goblins. But alcohol was alcohol. She passed it to Shadowheart after a drink. "I doubt it." Astarion spoke, curling his lips. "The man is drier than your guys' sex lives." Shadowheart sputtered, coughing up wine as Astarion grinned wryly. Tav couldn't help the grin on her face, opting to hide it behind her hand. Despite this, she still felt the need to defend herself. "Don't be a dick just because you finally got some." Tav pointed accusingly. "You've fucked Wyll once and that was only after weeks of pining. You are no better than the rest of us." He waved the comment off, his shit eating grin only growing. "Once is still more than your zero. But maybe I'll go find Wyll and make it twice, just to spite you." Shadowheart scowled, peering into the glass. "Just take it away from camp this time, please. I'm not keen on hearing about big his 'blade' is again." "It's not my fault that it is very big." Shadowheart groaned heavily, handing Astarion the wine. "I don't care. Please shut up." "I bet he's a freak, though." Astarion laughed, raising the glass to his lips. He proceeded to tilt it high and higher, only to angrily toss it to the ground once he realized it was empty. Shadowheart snickered. "Wyll?" Tav asked with a furrowed brow. "Withers." He said, like it was a perfectly normal response. "It's always the normal ones." Shadowheart agreed, rummaging through a pack for more wine. "Does he even have the equipment for that?" All three of them turned to look at Withers. He was staring off into the far distance, still as a rock, even as Scratch circled him excitedly. "That's probably why he's into the really kinky stuff." Astarion concludes.

[lilyoffandoms]

Choices Open Heart - Tobias x Casey, Bryce x Olivia, and Ethan x Merida

For @choicesoctober from best friend prompt.

Warnings & A/N: Alcohol mention (tipsy characters). Thanks for the idea last night Elsa hehe (I took notes lol). Casey belongs to @jerzwriter and Olivia belongs to @storyofmychoices.

“Okay okay what about that one?” Merida subtly pointed out a middle aged woman in a skintight blue dress.

They all considered her for a while as she talked animatedly to anyone that came within range of her.

“Bryce,” Casey and Merida said in unison.

“He’d be the only one able to handle her…, I don’t know,” Merida waved her hand.

“Clinging? Neediness?”

“Agreed,” Olivia nodded and giggled as both women turned their attention to her taking the seat beside them.

“You made it!” Merida squeezed her hand with a grin and flagged down the bartender and ordered them all a round.

“I had to say hello to Bryce real quick.”

Casey gave Olivia a quick hug and then passed out the drinks the bartender slid onto the polished bar for them.

“But we know you can’t stay away from us for too long,” Casey teased.

“Well yes,” Olivia giggled, “that and Bryce was trapped in a conversation I really didn’t want to be sucked into so….”

The other two laughed and raised their glasses together.

“Cheers to tonight and letting our partners fend for themselves,” Merida smirked.

“Now that one,” Olivia nodded with a grin to a man sidling up to the bar a few bar stools down from them.

They watched as the man ordered the most pretentious cocktail.

“Ethan,” they all agreed.

“Though he’d probably argue there is a better one out there,” Casey countered.

“So Tobias? Though he would probably just tease the poor man about how pretentious that drink order was.”

“Yeah, Ethan,” Merida confirmed. “He’d order one that was even more pretentious just to one up the guy.”

The game went on and on. Drink after drink. Plate after plate of appetizers. And much laughter.

“How about that one?” Casey pointed out a woman who had drunkenly draped herself across the piano to flirt with the musician.

“What are you gorgeous ladies up to?” Tobias saunter up behind Casey and kissed her forehead as she looked up to smile at him innocently.

“Catching up,” Olivia said.

“Having some fun people watching,” Merida said.

“Deciding who we’d pair you boys up with around here,” Casey smirked.

“Nice,” he grinned. “Who are we focusing on right now?”

They all pointed not at all subtly in the drunk woman’s direction.

“I think she needs to meet Ethan,” Tobias smirked and with a rather deep and lingering kiss with Casey went over to the woman.

The ladies watched as he greeted her.

“Is he?” Olivia said in shock.

Tobias led her across the room until they were standing in front of Ethan.

“Oh my god! He is. This is the best thing to happen all night!” Merida giggled and leaned back in her seat with her drink in hand to watch it play out.

“Did you expect anything less?” Casey smiled into her drink.

They lost it when Ethan paled and the woman looped her arms through Ethan’s and leaned heavily against him and Tobias patted Ethan’s arm with a wicked smirk and some teasing comment and walked back toward the three friends.

Merida called the bartender back and ordered a drink which she handed to Tobias upon his return.

“For my hero,” she said and clinked her drink to his.

“Bryce next!” Olivia clapped her hands together, her face flushed with the warmth of the room and a few drinks.

“Have I mentioned that tipsy Olivia is a ton of fun?” Casey beamed at Tobias.

“You have not but I got to start spending more time with you three,” he said between swigs of his drink before turning to Olivia.

“Liv, my dear, who shall it be?”

——————————

Choices Tag: @storyofmychoices @peonierose @aallotarenunelma

Other Tags: @choicesficwriterscreations

[ffxivaltaholic]

Prompt #24: Bar

#FFxivWrite2024

"No."

"Pleaaaase. Just for a little bit...."

A grunt was the initial response the Miq'ote would give, his expression deadpan and uninterested. "I'll pass..." The man rarely drank anymore, having spent the last two years pulling himself out of his alcoholism to be a better person for himself and his wife. "I didn't like such establishments even when I did drink." They were too loud, too rowdy and rather expensive.

Watching the crestfallen Seeker, Jellal flicked his ears back and scowled. "Why do you even want me to join? You always say I am boring and not in the last bit fun." Granted he knew most of those comments were just to tease but it still begged the question of why out of all people his cousin could choose, she came to him.

Vassyl fiddled with her hair and frowned. "I dunno... I just figured it might be fun. Unless Iaella drags you out or you're on a job, you hold up in the workshop all day." For a moment he simply stared at the blonde woman before it all sank in.

"You're worried about me, aren't you?" Trying his best to soften his gruff tone, Jellal started to put some tools away. "If you want to check in or spend time with me, you can just ask, you know that, right?" He raised a brow, pausing to watch her expression, and as it changed, the Seeker knew he was right. Inviting him out was simply her attempt to check in on him and ensure he wasn't in a depressive spiral, she was just going about it in her own way. Granted, he hadn't had another spiral in a bit, but it was around that time of year when his brother was killed and it occurred to Jellal that those around him had been particularly attentive the last few days, especially his wife Iaella.

Fiddling some more, Vassyl frowned and lowered her ears. "I mean... We're family, worrying about each other is normal. Mom and Dad worry about you too sometimes. You haven't visited in a while." She couldn't bring herself to mention the anniversary of Seyrin's death, but both knew that was the root of this. A moment of silence passed between the Miq'ote and as Jellal glanced up at her again, seeing the anxious Seeker with genuine concern on her face, he couldn't help but sigh and give in a little.

In the past, he probably would have just locked her out to wallow in his own self-pity, but through the support of those around him, the bitter and angry soldier had mellowed somewhat. That and his Monk of a wife could rip the doors off if he did decide to hide away again. It was both terrifying and very attractive all at once."

There was a bit of consideration, and finally, a compromise formed in his thoughts. "Okay... But! No bar, club, or loud venue. If you want to spend time with me, it needs to be something we can both tolerate." Loud drunk people were definitely off the table. He might very well shoot someone. Vassyl's face lit up as she was slowly chipping away at the icy walls he put up. "Okay, that's fair... Something we can do together..." Wracking her brain for an idea, the Seeker appeared to struggle, and he could almost imagine a little steam coming out of her ears.

"Try not to overwork that one brain cell... It's all you have left." Jellal got in a small jab, smirking for the first time since she arrived at his shop that afternoon. Puffing up her cheeks in protest, Vassyl huffed and pointed a finger at him much like how her mother would do to her when making a point. "You're so mean Jellybean." One of the many, many nicknames she gave the poor man purely out of amusement and entertainment at his expense. A noticeable twitch from the soldier confirmed her comment had hit the mark.

"Ah... Well... I did finish your custom motorcycle..." A silly little smirk on his face as she gasped, immediately distracted. "REALLY? Can I ride it???" The excitement in her tone caused Jellal to flatten his ears back at the high pitch of her voice. "I suppose so... But you were so set on going out to a bar... I don't know if you'll have time for both..." Jellal was definitely doing his best to avoid the original invitation, even if trying to teach her to ride such a machine would be just, if not more, stressful than babysitting her at a bar and keeping unpleasant people away. It was a compromise... Sort of.

A small sound akin to a huff or a whine would leave the woman's lips at his ultimatum, and she finally caved. "Okay, fine, no bar... But you have to actually teach me. Don't just yell from a safe distance... That's boring. So then it's a deal?" The comment would get a roll of his eyes, but he was a man of his word.

"Fine, it's a deal."

[dxwnfxll]

hello🙏 im here once again asking for kondraki with a s/o that takes care of him like draven does so the poor kid can enjoy some time for himself and slowly kondraki falls in love with them

OFC!! Luv the butterfly man here

Warning!! Drunk mention, swearing, and a lil angsty

Dr. Kondraki with an S/o that takes care of him <33

-you and Konny met funnily enough in the break room, you were grabbing some coffee at the same time as him.

-as you two bumped into each other he striked up a friendly conversation, back then he had seemed so much better.

-he had a wife and a lil baby named Draven, and his job didn't even seem to affect him that much..but then his life seemed to start coming apart.

-His wife had left him and now he was stuck raising Draven by himself, you watched as he threw himself into his work..endless and sleepless nights of him working with booze bottles littered around his desk

-you felt the need to help him, in some way..

-so you started throwing yourself into helping him, sometimes ignoring your work just to do his so it wasn't so much on him

-there would be nights where you'd drag him to his dorm all while he reeked of booze and only spoke in slurred words

-some days he wouldn't come to work, you'd have to go and look for him..just to find him crying in his bed holding himself wracked with guilt because he yelled at Draven

-Draven always tried to help, but you'd always shoo the poor boy away..he was only a kid what could he do?

-Soon enough you saw yourself bringing Konny groceries and even making him dinners. You had been at his place for so often Draven began to see you as the only parental figure he had..besides Kondraki but he was to busy being drunk

-One night as you came to their apartment you could already tell Draven wasn't home, he probably had left to stay with Talloran for the night. But the silence seemed to scare you for a moment.

-you quickly set your stuff down and barged into Konnys room, there he sat crying..it was one of those nights. The entire room reaked of Alcohol and the bottles were laying around him. One of them leaking onto the floor from his bed.

-you sighed walking over to him and held him, he immediately clung to you. His arms wrapping around you in a strong embrace "please..don't..don't let go" his slurred words spoke. His hand in your hair (if you have any)

-you held him rocking him back and forth as he sobbed "Draven fucking hates me.." He spoke as you shushed him "no..he doesn't hate you Konny, He's just..worried maybe even disappointed.."

-Kondraki scoffed "a kid disappointed in his own father.." You held him close "Konny..it's okay i'm here.." He looked at you, his green eyes boring into your e/c ones.

-"just..just please don't leave me..please don't be like Alice..please just don't fucking leave.." He clings onto you tighter "i..i fucking love you.." His voice still slurred as his eyes began to get heavy

-you didn't even know what to say, but you helped him lie down "i'm..i won't go anywhere Konny..i promise" you rubbed his chest a bit trying to comforting him "i'll be here when you wake up.."

-and so he drifted off to sleep as you sat on the side of his bed, your thoughts plagued by his words.. You couldn't help but smile at him and lean in to kiss his cheek "i love you too"

Hope you enjoyed!! Requests are always open <33

[kobblefort]

Blackfaint: Origins 2

I feel that this entire song is emblematic of rat world, but the "conversation" part at 2:49 is most important for our purposes of understanding it. This is how I imagine all of the rats speak to each other and the kind of things that they speak to each other about. "Well not really because I fucking had to buy beer" "That's fucked up man" is the kind of thing they are all saying to each other with that exact cadence. I think the lyric "Raise your hand if the system has missed you, man" also applies to rat world because the system has quite literally missed us - we can't create military squads or appoint administrators because the warlord needs to at least appoint a caravan leader for us to get the Nobles & Administrators screen back and I don't think she gives a fuck - it's still Vakeek Malignreasons last I checked and yeah she's a little busy seeking that artifact and doing other dubious necromancer activities. But it's okay, we're just treating this like a challenge run. Rat world is kind of like how I live because there is no structure to my life and I have never held a single job for more than three months in a row. And I try not to drink alcohol anymore but sometimes I still do and I just immediately start scrolling through my contacts looking for people to flirt with, harangue about Media we both like, or ramble at about some story I'll never actually write (usually all 3 at once) I only have an apartment by literally an act of god extending divine mercy directly to me and it's a fucking mess where I eat the $1 for an 8-pack hot dogs from Aldi cut in half to make them lie flat on sandwich bread with just diced onions and seasoned salt. "You take what you get in rat world" is one of the things we say in rat world, besides "Fuck it!!" lol, thats the main thing we say in rat world but yeah there are other things we say in rat world basically.

There's only two and a half more Z-levels we have to grate up before the aquifer drain is complete and we never have to think about it again. Considering there's 11 levels from the aquifer to the drain that means out of the 176 grates we needed to make there are only 40 left.

This farmers' guildhall I'm making just to have it out of the way when it inevitably becomes necessary kind of looks like a buttplug. Oops almost out of food and drinks again :\ rat worlddddd

A problem is quickly becoming apparent: rats get upset over not wearing shoes, but rats can't actually make shoes. I'm not sure we will ever actually get a caravan from The Nightmare of Tunneling, much less any other merchants, and without being able to actually assign any squadrons, sending them out on missions to retrieve them from any poor settlement that catches my eye won't be possible either. Keeping seed stocks up is another problem, and since I'm running the mod that fully forbids the eating of plump helmets, we can't rely on the plentiful stock of those from the caverns. It's sort of just a race away from the bottom right now, constantly scurrying out to grab handfuls of boar tails and cave wheat and cook them up just to watch them scarfed down. I am, however, deeply enjoying the fucked up layout of this fortress so far. Maybe when we get 50 rats they will be able to elect a mayor and thus start having administrators? It's entirely possible we see the end of this fort without ever being able to use some absolutely critical features of the greatest simulation game of all time Dwarf Fortress. But nobody said rat world would be easy.

As a matter of fact it has just been confirmed that rat world is easy. The dwarves have come to wreak vengeance upon us!! And it's like what did we even do!? Sure we're part of a civilization known for havoc and pillaging and violence but none of us did anything! I literally went and checked! The only one who did anything is Ikeek Hatredeel.

And she never even killed a dwarf, just a kobble! Come on! Whatever you're mad about it probably wasn't us!!

The best we can do right now is breaking down the stairway and setting up hatch covers to bar shut just above the bedroom level, which is above the main floor. The dwarves don't seen to even notice the entrance to our little hamlet, at least, which is good. It's just as well, what business do we have up on the surface? All the plants are dead and what little we left in the wagon was just a few sheets and crutches. (I am notoriously bad at remembering to break down my wagon because I hate "all-purpose" stockpiles and only designate piles as they're needed, but I don't want my kobbles/dorfs/rats to leave stuff on the ground, so I usually just leave it there for like... a year at least.)

They just keep dancing around a dead tree. There's really no reason we can't wait them out, but then again, if a forgotten beast comes wandering in through the caverns, we'll be kind of fucked. But that's rat world dude. The thing about rat world is sometimes you're just helplessly scurrying around looking for plants to cook into the saddest little biscuits ever while some dwarfs come trying to maim you for no fucking reason. They've got a lot of silver weaponry, which makes sense because we are monsters, and the one with the steel crossbow could cause some real problems.

Giant monkeys appear, which is almost always cause for celebration, but ESPECIALLY now. They're not doing so great against the dwarves though.

We got some tablesss

Me too

The only way any food gets put on the table in rat world is by everyone scampering out to the caves every few minutes to grab more of whatever they can find growing wild on the floor, which has to be arranged manually. Then I manually have to go over to the kitchen and put "prepare easy meal" on repeat until it runs out, which is usually 30 seconds and 5~15 food units after I press it. If you'll permit me to be honest right now rat world is just really not feeling that sustainable. I'm not going to say like oh I give up and just let the dorfs come kill us all or whatever but you know sometimes rat world just actually sucks.

Speaking of shit that just sucks, I feel like the rodent men should be chill with us, but well...

They're not. Luckily, we're fucking fast in rat world, and as long as we keep the numbers right, stronger than them too. We can't just bar off the cavern since then we'd starve, so the only real option is just... every rat for themself.

But the truth is that rats together are strong. Do you not understand this, rodent people??

oh wait, this might be bad... Yeah we got nothing on steel weapons actually.

It'ikik ghoulscar, who was described as someone who was "made deeply uncomfortable by differences in culture or appearance," does not survive a stab to the brain. What should I not say he was racist?? Ohh his body's still warm you can't say he's racist!!! Well he was a racist is the thing. I don't think he'd even object to be called that. I don't know though because most people who'll admit they're racist are a lot less racist than people who vehemently refuse the idea that they could ever be racist. A guy who says "yeah i'm racist" is probably going to catch himself letting media/institutional/just stupid shit he thought when he was a kid bias cloud his judgment, but a guy who says "You're Calling Me RACIST??? That's Like Calling Me The N Word!!" has completely internalized whatever "FBI Crime Stats" are on HTTP colon slash slash BootSuckerNews.Cuck without even knowing what the words "materialist political theory" mean when you string them all together like that. Like I'm just going to say it I trust a guy who listens to Cum Town to actually not be evil when it counts a lot more than a guy who thought Million Dollar Extreme World Peace was a good show. Oh and for the fucking record I actually was a huge fucking MDE fan when they were new, I'm talking about the 00s when I was a teenager and they beat Tim & Eric to market with the "insane editing" game and did it way better. Shit like Malbone Trucking and Extreme BassFX were and are genuinely still funny, I don't care man, but the TED talk was basically the end of an era, all the shit that came afterward where Sam Hyde just records himself yelling into a mirror is absolutely fucking insufferable, and the fact that when they finally got their shot at TV after that they just made a fucking crappy sketch comedy show where all the jokes are edgy teenager trying to get in trouble bullshit instead of utilizing any of their previously many strengths is the biggest fucking let-down in the world, Sam Hyde let his ego blow up like a fucking car bomb and was helped along to do so by post-Stormfront invasion 4channers, 90% of whom just thought he was crazy and that it was funny to see a crazy guy yell into a mirror and record it with a cell phone, I will never not be so disappointed that it gives me a fucking ulcer about what could have been, sometimes I go back and watch College Cunts and it's almost hard to enjoy because it's like wow this is where it ended - this glimmer right here is the last diamond before they started just shitting. Oh god, what we lost. What did we lose again? Oh shit, yeah, the game. We're down to 18 rats.

Kikeek Menacebreeds takes one down. Nice, good shit.

The last remaining rodent person earned the name Nightsea from the fracas, and just starts camping one last area. He seems to stop being hostile and just lets everyone pass him as they run around the caverns freely. Maybe he'll make a good bulwark against the first forgotten beast we have to deal with, I don't know. For now he's just an annoyance. Youve got to take the Ws you can get in rat world that's one thing for sure. As an anarchist it annoys me that the game requires a strict military hierarchy in order for citizens to start arming themselves and training but I guess we can start putting down some traps. But first, you know, five rats need to get buried real quick before they start haunting this bitch. Also, a while ago a "Glassmaker" went into a strange mood and has just been standing in the door of their bedroom - Been there dude!! I have no idea what to do about that, I'm not bothering with glass here, they refuse to claim any kind of workshop so I guess I'll have to just let them do their thing and eventually weather whatever kind of tantrum they're going to have.

In the worst moods now are Eeteek Terrorslip, K'keek Attackdemons, and Vatekeek Learnedmaligns. Eeteek in particular has just really been upset over not owning any shoes. Embarrassed about it, angry about it, sad about it. Like I'm sorry. I would love to do something about it. But, well, I can't!! Maybe - and this is a big fucking maybe - we'll be able to make leather out of the rodent people and then maybe we'll be able to make shoes or at least boots out of their leather, but I'm not optimistic about it!!!

Oh that was fast. See Eeteek there's a guy you could learn from, she doesn't mind having no shoes. She doesn't mind having no clothes at all!! She's just fully embraced the mania in this bitch!!

Burial time, lol. Oh and despite the advent of some giant ibexes, a giant tick, and other random terrifying creatures, all 10 dwarves up on the surface are completely unbothered. Siege is going great for them. Ass holes

The "natural mist generator" is really not good enough to offset all the miserable violence, ratfolk don't particularly care for natural beauty anyway.

Kikiteek Jackalgranite suddenly has 11 fucking children, all of whom are good to go and get straight to work the second they're born. Dude what the fuck is even going on in rat world.

After setting up some cage traps around the cavern entrance (sorry, I know they're OP, but I need them for this fort lol) everyone cleans up the blood on the main floor and starts partying. Uhh except R'eekeek. R'eekeek dies.

It's still not really feasible to actually open the doors back up yet, but the tavern has been officially "opened to the public." I'd also like to start building a library but I don't know if this is the fort for it. Ratfolk library seems like a great way to get some necromancers on deck and well, necromancers are always a rare treat.

I'd really like the dorfs to fucking leave already too. There's actually some live prickle berries and red spinach on the east part of the map, but of course these Ass Hole's are just camping out here keeping us from prosperity. I cannot imagine that any rat still enjoys cave tubers but that's all we got.

After ages they finally fucking leave and we can go scoop up the goodies. Spinach and prickleberries baby!!! Sounds awful actually but when all you've eaten for like 9 months is the same thing it must taste awesome.

If it's not one thing it's always just another.

Our carpenter is caught out during the attack, but she's fucking fast. Every time she sees one of the rodent people she just dips the fuck out of there across the entire map, then goes back to just wandering around. We barred her in there, but we'll eventually have to do something... There's twelve rodent people running free, three in cages, and Srekitdret running around randomly like he's our fucking mascot or something.

She actually manages to do some serious damage, but she has other things on her mind, and would just really prefer not to fight I guess. The fact that there's a thing called "Holy Ape of The Faith of Tribes" sounds really interesting to me, I'll have to learn more about that. If we survive. Or actually if we die it'll be a good excuse to hop back into legends mode. So either one is fine by me!!!!! Fuck it!!!! Lol I hit the 30 image limit I'll probably update again tomorrow

[ocean-blue-whump]

Night Out

Shorter update, but building up to something bigger!

Heist Team Masterlist

Tagging @painful-pooch @winedark-whump @justplainwhump @thingsthatgowhumpinthenight - let me know if you want to be added/removed!

CW: alcohol, drugging + kidnapping

***

Scipio turns his head, nodding to acknowledge the woman who just sat down next to him at the bar. “Oh, they got you too?”

Ace shoots him a glare as she shows the bartender her license and orders a drink. “I hate your accent,” she grumbles, playing with a piece of her hair. 

Scipio laughs and downs the rest of his beer. “Awh. Still young enough that the bartender asks for your ID. So I have to ask, who pushed you over the edge?” For the past week, Penn has been keeping all seven members of the team cooped up in an apartment while he and Jude went over building diagrams and other things. Seven people, seven strangers in one apartment… “It was Penn for me,” Scipio says. “He obviously doesn’t think very highly of me. I don’t really know why, but…”

“Fuckin’ Markham snores.” Ace takes her martini from the bartender and turns to face Scipio. “Since he and I are sharing the couch, I haven’t slept well all week. And do you think there’s something off with Hollis?”

Scipio frowns and orders another beer. “What do you mean?”

Ace shrugs, taking a small sip of her drink. “Well, you’re in a room with him so you’d know better than me. He just seems off.”

Scipio’s been holed up in a room with Darien and Hollis for the week. Penn and Jude have the other bedroom. “Yeah. To be fair, all us fuckers are a little off, no? Darien is bloody terrified of Penn. Jude also seems to not be a fan of yours truly, which obviously means she has poor taste.”

“You think…very highly of yourself.” Ace smirks and leans forward, her black hair spilling across her shoulders. She’s pretty, Scipio can’t deny that, but she’s definitely not Scipio’s type. She’s got an air to her, like she’s good and she knows it, like she came from money. She keeps her back perfectly straight while she sips at her martini. “You know what? Fuck it.” She raises her glass towards him, a smile on her face. “Let’s get drunk and let’s make some bad, bad decisions together.”

Scipio takes his beer from the bartender and gently clinks his stein against her stem glass. “Cheers, love.” 

***

As it turns out, Ace can drink him under the table. They both stumble out onto the street, Ace laughing. Scipio groans and holds his head, his mouth sour with the taste of beer. “Ace, babe, you didn’t tell me…” He leans over, stumbling across the pavement. “You didn’t tell me you could hold your liquor.”

She laughs again and turns her head to the sky, shrugging on her sports jacket and a pair of leather gloves. “Don’t be such a bitch, Scipio.” 

Scipio flops down on the curb, taking a deep breath. “Oh, love, I’ve no idea where we are right now.” 

“Eh, they’re not gonna miss us much.” Ace sits down next to him. “It’s the Penn and Jude show over there. Probably still holed up in their room planning shit without us. You know, I could have done a job this week. Could have made some money.”

“Like you need it,” Scipio mumbles. He’s not completely trashed, but his filter is gone. 

Ace opens her mouth to respond, but out of nowhere, a huge, muscular man dressed in all black and wearing a hood runs up behind her. He yanks her up off the curb, easily holding the drunk woman in place while he holds a cloth to her mouth. 

Scipio doesn’t stick around to watch Ace fight. He pulls himself to his feet, staggering around before taking off in an unsteady run. 

He doesn’t make it far. The man is on him in no time, grabbing him from behind and lifting his legs clean off the ground. 

Scipio tries to fight it, tries to squirm around in his drunken state, but it’s no use. The cloth is pressed and held firm against his mouth and he has no choice other than to pass out in the man’s arms. 

[perfect-homemade-chili]

362 “Nobility of Character.”

Our last entry raises the obvious dilemma… but, oh esteemed narrator, wherefore be lumberjack blood so noble to invigorateth the spirit like chili? And I should say: how would I know? There are few if any lumberjacks alive today. Now there are many who pose as lumbermen but, as the great modern philosopher Spongebob once prescribed: “It is not the beard outside, but the beard inside, that counts.” Luckily, being the esteemed historian that I am, I can say with confidence the answer to such heavy ponderances have long been answered by the greatest moral reformers of all time: Confucius and Plato, founding fathers of civilization of the East and West, respectively. True aristocracy, as they both agree, is neither hereditary nor French: it is nobility of character—

I’d like to inject a bit of whimsical folklore to add some flavor: the Argentinian fabulist Borges once wrote the following in his Book of Imaginary Beings—“…The Lamed Wufniks. There are on earth, and always were, thirty-six righteous men whose mission is to justify the world before God. They are the Lamed Wufniks. They do not know each-other and are very poor. If a man comes to the knowledge that he is a Lamed Wufnik, he immediately dies and someone else, perhaps in another part of the world, takes his place. Lamed Wufniks are, without knowing it, the secret pillars of the universe. Were it not for them, God would annihilate the whole of mankind. Unawares, they are our saviors…”

It need not be said he was refering to Lumberjacks, as often is the case that historical names give evidence to some long forgotten fact, and what could ‘Lamed Wufnik’ mean other than those who ‘nicked the wolves?’ Okay jk, it is Jewish—still. In food-blog terms, if I am turtle-soup, then I postulate the existence of legendary men who are chili-paste made of broiled phoenix and fried Cerberus. No—maybe ghost peppers and turmeric, because a saint made of flesh is an oxymoron. Point is, they are not men—they are moral colossuses (colossi?) who by virtue of their purity and integrity, uphold the pillar-beams of the sun and guard the shadowy gates of Hades. It is easy to find examples of great personalities. All great nations and structures, after all, were once founded on the shared dreams of just a few good men—the founding fathers of the US, the architects of the information age, the Roman proconsul, early Hebrew prophets, the development team of Chrono Trigger. Individual personalities are mere specks in the dessert of time (I know what I said). Are we not all enchanted by the elegant austerity of a Marcus Aurelius, the spiritual beauty of a Baldwin IV (the leper king), the humble nobility of a Lincoln, the farsighted pragmatism of a Lee Kuan Yew? Yet every statesmen (…okay, benevolent dictator, in some instances) of the highest caliber could only exist within a framework that allowed for their expression—in Buddhist terms—it is impossible to recognize greatness unless we have greatness in ourselves, and every society finds at last expression and organization only that which is fitting to its own karma. None of these leaders could be exemplary without the underpinnings of silent hands to whom these leaders themselves worshipped—lumberjacks.

—drink#002—virgin singapore sling. Speaking of Lee Kuan Yew, I remembering having a refreshing non-alcoholic Singapore Sling a few times on an asian airline, maybe Cathay…? that I particularly enjoyed. I think the recipe included sparkling water, rosewater, lime, grenadine?—probably not. Ginger beer? I’ve never really cared for the taste of liquor but lately I’ve found some fantastic zero-proof bottles (Ritual Zero Proof) that, when mixed with ginger ale or a light soda, really bring out the exquisite profile of some of these drinks—smoke, cinnamon, oak, caramel, pepper of whiskey, for example.