#would've done things differently with the smoke

[xiphosuras]

Roho the okapi, artfight revenge for @mothericecloud :)

[rcmclachlan]

On this week's episode of Things I Think About While Driving, I was having myself a grand ol' time thinking about all the different times and ways Buck could've met Tommy earlier, and the one I kept coming back to was S4xE5.

Like, right after Buck walks out of Maddie's apartment having learned about Daniel...

He drives.

He drives and drives and drives with no actual destination in mind, operating completely on autopilot, for hours. No music, no podcasts, just the rush of wind through all the open windows of the Jeep and the echoing refrain in his head of so they made one.

It would've been an allogeneic transplant. He'd looked it up once when he was watching a 60 Minutes special on Myelodysplastic Syndrome. They would've taken the stem cells from his umbilical cord if the timing was right. Unless they tried it a little bit later, maybe waited a few months before they scraped Daniel's homegrown defense system right out of Buck's bones. He would've been too young to remember the pain and discomfort that came after. He wonders if he cried as a baby more than he would've if he'd been wanted for anything other than the hellfire missiles in his marrow.

And then it didn't work. Defective, right out of the gate. No wonder they've always treated him like a massive disappointment—he is one. He had one job and he couldn't even manage to do that much.

So he drives. He drives and he's furious. He drives and he's inconsolable. He drives and he's sorry. With every street he turns down at random, he moves onto another emotion, and by the time the gas gauge is nudging close to empty and the evening is giving way to night, the only thing he's capable of feeling is tired.

And hunger. He'd only had an apple before he went over to Maddie's.

So he circles back to Glendale Boulevard and decides on the place with a red lion on their sign solely because it doesn't look busy for 8:30pm on a Tuesday. There's even a free space in the little lot next to the building. Thanks, COVID.

It's pretty quiet inside, with a substantial bar set against old wood paneling on the walls, making it feel like an old tavern. He takes a seat at the far end of the bar where the lighting's kind of dim.

Turns out it's a German bar, so he orders a glass of Warsteiner, which he's never had before, and it's got a strong, malty backbone for a lager. The bartender tells him there's a Biergarten in the back if he wants to take his drink outside. 

Buck doesn't want to move from his little corner. It feels safe here, even with his mask off. At least two of the one hundred thousand knots in his back muscles have relaxed since he sat down. He quietly declines the offer, but he does order himself the sausage plate and a glass of Augustiner Maximator once he's done with the Warsteiner, which goes down so good he can't believe it's got an ABV of 7.5%. He orders a second.

He's in the middle of robotically eating a smoked bockwurst he can't taste, thinking so they made one, when the door to the biergarten opens up. A guy walks over to the bar and Buck throws him a cursory glance. Then he looks again. 

The guy is exactly who you'd find on the cover of the LAFD charity calendar: big and beefy, with the kind of high cheekbones that belong on a runway in Milan. Effortlessly handsome. Buck wants to tip his beer toward him, because, respect. He also wants to poke his biceps and ask what his regiment is, if he P90X's or something. Buck isn't a small man by any stretch of the imagination, but this guy looks like he could throw Buck around like a grizzly bear. 

Buck lets himself be distracted by watching the guy lightly tap his fingers against the bar to the beat of whatever 80s song is playing softly over the speakers. He's always loved people watching; it's a great way to get out of his head after tough calls. This guy is a particularly fascinating specimen. There's just something magnetic about him. Buck's known people like that: they draw the eye even if they're not doing anything to warrant attention. Without even being called, the bartender wanders over to the guy, no doubt drawn to whatever invisible light is coming off him. Buck can't hear what they're saying, but then the bartender turns and points right at Buck, who freezes, caught. 

The guy flashes Buck a thumbs up and asks just loud enough to be heard through his face mask, "How was the Warsteiner?"

Swallowing, Buck lifts the empty glass and says, "Uh, g-good. Full-bodied." 

With a thoughtful nod, the guy turns back to the bartender and says something too quiet for Buck to hear, but he figures it out when the bartender goes and comes back with a glass of what is clearly Warsteiner. The guy takes a sip, pauses, and then moves toward Buck, stopping before he gets too close. "Thanks for the recommendation. Hey, Jay, put his next one on my tab."

The bartender—Jay—gives him a thumbs up and goes to the register. Buck, mortified at the thought of being a charity case, of this guy pitying him enough to buy him a beer, opens his mouth to tell Jay he can pay for his own beers, thanks, when the guy holds up a hand to forestall the protest.

"German beer's not usually my thing. I'm more of a craft beer kind of guy, so really, I appreciate the assist. If it makes you feel better, pay it forward." His cheeks curve up, and in the bar lighting Buck can see there are long legs attached to the guy's crow's feet. He clearly has spent his life smiling. Buck would bet this man has never once curled up in the dark on his birthday knowing for a fact his parents weren't going to even text him and was still disappointed when the clock ticked past midnight and he had nothing to show for it. This guy's parents probably had a golden statue of him erected in their front yard.

Buck musters up a smile that feels like one of the little, weak waves that just sort of roll over the shoreline without any fanfare before dissolving back into the sea, and the guy tilts his head.

"Rough day?"

"Rough life," Buck says, utterly pathetic, and feels like he's betrayed all his friends for even saying it. "No, that's—that was incredibly ungrateful. My life isn't—I-I have a good life. I just learned something today about my parents that, uh, clarified a few things for me about our relationship. It... wasn't great."

The guy taps his finger against the bottle of Warsteiner in his hand, staring at Buck with deep consideration, flaying Buck from head to toe without a word. Then he gives a nod that smacks of commiseration and walks around the bar until he's only two chairs away. When the guy opens his mouth and inhales, Buck can already hear what's coming: surely it's not that bad. You should talk it out with them. You're being too hard on them. C'mon, they're your parents, they love you. 

"That sucks," the guy says, simple as anything.

Out of nowhere, heat starts prickling in Buck's nose and the corners of his eyes, and he looks at this guy and the calm, earnest expression on his face, and... yeah. Yeah. It does suck. It sucks so hard and it has for so long, and all his life he's wanted someone to tell him that, to hear him list every injustice and offer a crumb of support without any pretense or judgment. Buck gasps a laugh that sounds more like he's been stabbed, and he opens his mouth to thank the guy for telling him exactly what he needed to hear, but instead what comes out is... everything. The whole story comes out of him like an unraveling firehose, pulling longer and longer the more he talks, stretching from the day he crashed his bike—"But it wasn't my bike, it was his."—to sitting in Maddie's living room and finally learning the truth: that he hadn't been crazy, that something had been wrong his entire life and the something was him.

"They'd made a box for her—full of all these memories and little trinkets and pictures—and I bet you he had one with baseball cards and his first, like, pacifier, and Skittles, and whatever, but when I asked them where mine was, they looked at me like I had three heads, because human junkyards full of scrap metal and defective blood cells don't get baby boxes," he finishes on a shout. Panting like he just sprinted to Santa Monica and back, he finds himself deflating into his folded arms on top of the bar now that he isn't filled to the brim with 29 years worth of bottled-up grievances. This must be what bulldozed graveyards feel like: scraped clean and ready to be filled up again. Buck is surrounded by five empty glasses, a little mountain of twisted-up napkins, and a complete stranger who hasn't said a word since Buck began, and it's as a good place to start again as any.

Buck closes his eyes and stews in embarrassment for about thirty seconds, then turns his head to look at his audience of one. At some point, the guy had gravitated into the chair right next to him and took his mask off, revealing a stupidly handsome face, and his wide-eyed, slack-jawed stare makes Buck want to throw up a little. It may have been the cleansing Buck'd needed, but the poor guy didn't ask to be part of any of it. Buck doesn't know why he told him in the first place. This is the kind of thing he'd hesitate to blurt out to Eddie, never mind a complete stranger, but there had been something so oddly steady and compassionate in the guy's gaze that Buck had felt like he could trust him with anything. It had been so easy to just... talk. And to his credit, the guy had listened to Buck's entire rant—stopping Buck only twice to ask a quiet, clarifying question—without making a face, snorting, rolling his eyes, or getting up and just leaving.

Face warm, Buck shifts in his seat to try and get feeling back into his left ass cheek, then he opens his mouth to apologize for dumping all that on the him instead of at his next session with his fucking therapist.

But the guy just blinks out of his stupor and flags down Jay, who wanders over sedately. He taps the bar counter twice and says, "Yeah, can you just put the rest of his bill on my tab?"

When Buck sits up with an outraged squawk, the world spins a little, and the guy places a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder to steady him. He doesn't take it back right away and Buck doesn't shrug it off. The weight feels good.

"N-No, that wasn't—you can't do that, man," Buck mumbles, face hot. His mouth feels a bit gummy.

"I can and I did," the guy says. "Someone should treat you to dinner for putting up with all that shit for all this time. I don't know your parents from a hole in the ground, but I would happily drop 3,000 pounds of water on their house. Jesus Christ, and I thought my issues with my parents were bad."

"I never should've—"

But the guy shakes his head and tightens his hand on Buck's shoulder. "You absolutely should've, actually. If that had built up any longer, I probably would've seen you literally explode on the 6 o'clock news."

Buck snorts a laugh, rubbing his disbelieving smile against his sleeve. "Believe me, it wouldn't be the first time you saw me on the 6 o'clock news."

The guy gives Buck a curious tilt of his head, so Buck clarifies, "Do you remember a few years back when that kid was mailing bombs to people and he rigged that fire engine to explode? And it fell on that firefighter?" At the guy's slow, wary nod, he continues, "I was the, uh, firefighter."

At that, the guy sits up and his gaze goes so sharp that Buck wants to call Jay over and have him slice up some bratwurst on it. "You're with the 118."

Buck blinks, and then the guy introduces himself... as LAFD firefighter pilot Tommy Kinard, who'd gotten his start at Buck's own damn station. Who knew both Chimney and Hen when they were probies, and who watched Bobby walk in and turn the place into a house Tommy could be proud to be part of. Who had been their air support during the Doheny Park gas leak incident.

"That was you?" Buck glances down at the bar counter to make sure it hadn't cracked when his jaw hit it. "Chimney told us afterwards he'd called in a favor from an old friend."

Tommy grins and jauntily points to himself with his glass. "Except Howie was cashing in on a favor I owed him, which means I only owe him like 973 more now."

Over a round of drinks—another Maximator for Buck and a seltzer with lime for Tommy—Buck tells Tommy about who's at the 118 now and confirms which of "the most batshit insane stories I've heard about you guys" are true. He tells Tommy about the rollercoaster ride that was his recovery from the explosion, and then follows that up with being caught in the tsunami and being struck by lightning. In return, Tommy regales him with army stories, including the time he landed a burning helicopter under enemy fire, and his favorite calls from his time with the 118—the fucking rooster has Buck practically crying laughing into his arms. He also tells Buck about Hen's fearlessness in standing up to their asshole captain who was voted the LAFD's Most Likely To Have Been At The White House On January 6th, and how Chimney saved Tommy's literal life. He tells Buck that without Bobby showing up and making them into a family of sorts, without him being in their corner even when they didn't trust him not to abandon them like all their other captains, Tommy never would've found his way back to the sky.

Then Tommy gleefully drops a pipe bomb into the scant space between them with, "And you never would've joined the 118."

Buck squeezes his eyes shut to try and make his brain stop feeling so swimmy. "W-What? What does that mean?" His tongue is too big for his mouth. His words taste a bit funny, like they're mushy. He hopes Tommy hasn't noticed.

"You said you joined in 2017. That's when I left," Tommy says, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I'm pretty sure you were the one who took my spot."

Buck untucks one of his arms so he can reach up to touch the hills and valleys running down Tommy's cheeks, then realizes that probably would be rude and tries to play it off like he was going to scratch the back of his own head. All he does is knock over one of his empty glasses. It takes a few clumsy tries before he successfully stands it back up.

"We missed each other," Buck mumbles. He thinks of what it might have been like walking into the station that day, seeing Tommy sitting between Hen and Chimney, smiling wide as he dished up more spaghetti. Maybe he would've turned that warm light on Buck as he passed him the tongs. Maybe Tommy would've shown him the ropes, got him through his first shifts, and even stopped him from stealing the engine for a booty call. Maybe they'd have met up for drinks just like this after their shifts were over, or as a way to distract themselves from bad calls the way Tommy's distracted Buck all night. Maybe they'd have been a two-man unit, and then when Eddie showed up they'd be a tri...something. Buck can't remember what it's called, but it means 'three'. Maybe Tommy would've been every bit as important to Buck as Eddie, Hen, and Chim.

He's hit with the realization that if he doesn't tell Tommy this, he might die, so he garbles out, "You're important. W-Wait, no. I mean, you could've... you were important... I—y'get the gist."

And Tommy must, because Tommy's smart and quick witted and a good listener, and he's looking at Buck fondly, like he might've done if he'd stayed at the 118 and they'd come through fire together, but he's also rolling his lips inward and his cheeks are trembling.

Buck whines, aggravated, because, "Y-You're laughing at me."

Tommy ducks his head and does, in fact, start laughing.

"'s so rude. Don't laugh at me, 's not my fault I'm defective." Buck buries his face in his arms in embarrassment. The cradle of it is so warm and comfortable he just stays there.

"You're not defective, Evan." Even though it sounds like Tommy's suddenly on the other side of the room, Buck can hear the matter-of-factness in the words. He says it like he'd said that sucks. "But you are drunk."

He's not. He's just really tired and his arms make for a great pillow. He also feels heavy and tight, which isn't good for a firefighter. What if he's called onto a massive scene? What if City Hall's on fire and he can't pull the mayor out because he's slow and weirdly full? What if his career as a firefighter is over?

"That's just bloat from all the beer and sausage," Tommy says from even farther away than he'd been a second ago. "Jay, can I settle up? I'm so sorry we kept you this late. You're getting a helluva tip, I promise."

His name's not Jay. It's Buck. But he'd introduced himself as Evan and... forgot to tell Tommy he goes by something else. But he likes that Tommy doesn't know that, because when Tommy says 'Evan' it sounds like how 'Buck' feels. He wants Tommy to keep 'Evan' in the warmth of his mouth, like how some alligators carry their young. For them, it's the safest place to be.

Buck wants to tell Tommy about the alligators, because they are super cool and only exist in two places in the whole world. He blinks his eyes open and finds his face pressed to something hard and cool. The bar stool feels a lot softer than it did a second ago. And it's vibrating.

There's a weight on his knee, shaking it gently.

He must've fallen asleep while watching Celebrity Death Match in the TV room again. Mom's going to kill him when she finds out. "Mads, five m're min's."

"Evan, you need to give me a building number."

"Hmmm...?"

"Your apartment building. I've been driving up and down South Spring for ten minutes. You gotta help me out here. What's your building number?"

"Mmm..." Buck rolls his forehead to chase the coolness. It feels so nice against his skin. He could just sink right into it.

"Evan, c'mon. You can do it. Tell me where you live."

"27 P'plar Road," he mumbles. He blinks his eyes open and catches sight of the rush of lights and road ahead, which blend together like they're about to jump into hyperspace. He's not in Hershey. He knows this road. Sighing, he closes his eyes again. "Oh. 's rowing. 409 at th' rowing."

He blinks awake when he suddenly trips over nothing, and he tries to stop himself from falling but there's nothing except the gaping maw of open space. But he doesn't actually go anywhere. Someone's got an arm around his waist. There's a name for that kind of rude awakening. He can't remember it.

"Two more stairs," the person with him mutters in his ear. "I'm begging you, lift up your feet before we both end up in the ER."

That's fine. He has his own bed there.

"Yeah, let's try to get you into the bed you have here first."

Strong hands lower him onto something soft, and he buries his face in sheets that are cool and smell familiar, his entire body smoothing out like the surface of a lake. Something tugs at his foot, and he rolls onto his back and tries to lift his leg to help, but he's comfy and cocooned in the dark. His sneakers get taken off anyway.

"Evan." Tommy's voice hangs in the air, soft and warm and invisible, and his name sounds like it's precious where it sits in Tommy's mouth. He read somewhere that alligators do that. "I'm going to get you some water and then head out. Do you need anything else?"

In the dark, he somehow lost his body, and he can barely see the outline of Tommy, but he can hear him step closer when Buck reaches out for him. When Buck's hand is caught, he's suddenly so aware of himself, of his blood and bones and every nerve trapped under his skin, and arches a little into the feeling with a quiet moan of relief.

Tommy knows about him. He knows Buck's cells are defective and he still bought Buck dinner and spent the night making him feel like he was made correctly from the start.

"D'nt go," he whispers. He's starting to float away, and he tugs on the hand holding his, trying to bring that steadfast presence on top of him, use it to keep him here. "Stay."

"I absolutely can't do that," Tommy murmurs. His thumb strokes over Buck's palm and it feels like he's dragging his tongue along the length of a nerve. Buck gasps. Something pulls tight and sweet between his legs, and he tilts his head back on the pillow, lips parting so he can suck in air desperately. So he's ready.

"Kiss me," he breathes.

He wants it so bad he almost gags. He wants all that weight and strength to hang over him like a bough, keeping him together, feeding his body what it's screaming for. He inhales deeply and the smell of indelible man fills his nose and the back of his throat, along with the faint hint of smoke and something sharp like snow. He wants a mouth on his. He wants strong, sure hands to run over his ribs. He wants to say I'm full of broken cells and I need you to fill me up with something better, but he's breathing too hard and the words keep blowing out of order. His legs slide open and the sound of them moving on the sheets is deafening. He's so hot, and so hungry. He thinks he's hard. He thinks he's dying.

The hand in his squeezes gently, but then it lets go.

Without it, Buck's going to dissolve. He's going to disappear. He squeezes his burning, wet eyes shut and pulls in a breath that is all wheeze, every part of him a live wire, unsteady and shivering and thwarted. So they made one.

"No. No," Buck sobs. "Y're just like them. You don't want me—no one... why. 's not fair."

The bed suddenly dips right next to Buck's thigh, right on the edge, and the hot press of a thumb against his chin stops him from howling his sorrow and disappointment. When it slides up and just barely brushes against his bottom lip, his mouth falls open. Yes. Yes.

"I'll tell you what." It's whispered so closely that Buck thinks he can feel the wash of breath over his tongue. "You remember any of this tomorrow? Call me, and I'll kiss you as much as you want. I'll kiss the idea you're unwanted right out of you."

Buck exhales in utter relief and sinks into the comfort of the bed as the weight next to him lifts away. He's going to do that. He's going to call and then let Tommy kiss him until he forgets he was ever unloved. But persistence pays off, so he tries one more time, even though he's suddenly so tired he can barely get the word out. "Stay."

"Sleep well, Evan."

+

When Buck wakes up, he immediately wants to crawl into a hole and die. His mouth tastes like there's roadkill in it and there's an egg beater trying to escape his skull by way of his left eye. Whimpering, he tries to bury his face into the pillow but half of it is wet with drool, so he reaches up and throws the stupid thing on the floor. His mattress is comfy. He can just plant his face there and suffocate, no problem.

He has no idea how he got home last night, which is terrifying. Everything after the third Augustiner is a bit hazy. He was talking to some guy who made him laugh, he knows that much. His mind conjures bits and pieces of his mysterious drinking companion: a wide, white grin; large hands; a voice he can hear the cadence and depth of but can't remember a single word it said. After that, he's got nothing.

It takes a few tries to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth and he rolls onto his side to put his back to where the sun is starting to filter through the curtains. The move puts the nightstand right in his line of sight, and when his vision focuses, he pauses.

There's a glass with water on top of it, but it's not the cup he usually chooses. It's one of the textured acrylic ones he picked out when he moved in that he absolutely hates using. Even though they're impossible to break, he feels like he's ten years old when he's forced to drink out of one. All that's missing is a sippy-cup lid.

Although he has to hand it to himself: the acrylic cup was a pretty solid idea, considering he might've knocked a real glass onto the floor sometime in the night and then cut himself when it shattered. Chimney forced Buck to watch Die Hard last year and it was a fun movie, but Buck has no desire to recreate the "shoot the glass" scene.

He slides his face a little closer to the edge of the bed so he can find his phone. It's sitting on the top of the nightstand, plugged in, which is almost as surprising as the acrylic cup. He never remembers to plug his phone in when he's sober, but there it is, charging away. His wallet and keys are also laying next to it. It's such a neat and tidy tableau that, for a second, he thinks he's still asleep and this is one of those dreams where only one or two things is out of place and he spends the entire dream wondering if he's dreaming.

If he were dreaming, though, he wouldn't feel like hard-boiled ass, so someone else had been here and got him squared away. Maybe he called Eddie for a ride home? Buck reaches for his phone and his fingers brush up against the edge of a piece of paper. A receipt? Maybe he took a taxi instead.

Buck squints at it, and he has every intention of grabbing it to look for clues, but he ends up dozing for almost two hours. By the time he wakes up, the sun has invaded every part of the loft, but he doesn't feel so much like he's about to slip this mortal coil. He'll take the wins where he can.

It only takes a minute or two of psyching himself up before he's able to roll into something resembling sitting, and after that he gives himself five minutes to drop his head into his hands and regret his life choices. Once he promises God, the Devil, Zeus, and the purple laser ghost of Prince that he will never drink to such excess again as long as he lives, he finally looks over at the nightstand where his phone is.

It's been set to Do Not Disturb, which is nice. It's not something he ever does, because he's afraid he'll miss something important, and when he turns it off the screen fills with dozens of missed calls and texts from Maddie and Chimney. He takes great pleasure in dismissing all of them. Nothing from his parents, of course. There's also one from Eddie asking if everything's okay because "Chim called me asking if I'd heard from you and he sounds like he's about to start climbing the walls using only his teeth."

It's followed by a text that reads "Bobby says to take your time coming in. What happened?"

He taps open the message to reply when he glances up and sees the receipt on the nightstand. Abandoning his phone in favor of learning just how much he spent on a DD, he learns it wasn't a taxi at all. It's a note written in an unfamiliar hand on a small piece of drafting paper.

Your car is parked at the Red Lion. Jay said it was OK to leave it there because you weren't in any shape to drive.

Underneath that is a phone number, and underneath that is a single line: Remember—as much as you want. But only if you want.

It's signed "TK".

Baffled, Buck brings a fist to his mouth, because he's not sure what else to do, and when his thumbnail presses against his bottom lip, something hot and shivery pops low in his belly. It's how he realizes he's got to pee so bad he's going to wet the bed if he waits any longer.

After he pisses for what feels like an eternity, downs four Advil, showers the sweat and shame off, he stumbles back up the stairs feeling wrung out but definitely more human. Once he's in a pair of clean boxers, he surveys the room.

There was a stranger here last night, but it doesn't look like anything's missing. He checks his wallet, but all his cards and cash are still there. His sneakers were neatly placed against the wall, out of the way where he wouldn't trip on them if he got up during the night. And there's of course his phone, fully charged for once, and the note.

He sits on the edge of his bed and reads the note four more times. Then he looks up the Red Lion's operating hours, but it doesn't open for two more hours.

Which leaves him with the number and As much as you want. But only if you want.

His mind immediately takes a swan dive into the gutter. It's probably not meant to be as sexual as it reads, but... he's not sure how else he's supposed to take it. TK's blocky penmanship reveals nothing.

Maybe after he was done talking to the guy at the bar he met some woman? Maybe she was the one to take him home, although considering how drunk he must've been, it couldn't have been an easy feat. That she didn't help herself to his money and was thoughtful enough to plug his phone in and get him a glass of water really warrants a thank you.

He looks down at the phone number.

He grabs his phone—100%, what an absolutely wild concept—and taps in the number, double checking it like four times while his finger hovers over the CALL button like an anvil.

What the hell. He's got nothing left to lose.

He taps CALL and brings the phone to his ear. It takes two rings before someone picks up.

"Hello?"

Not a woman. Buck sits up so straight they could use his spine as an I-beam level.

"Uh, h-hey," he stutters, looking around his room, trying to divine any lingering atoms this person might've left behind. "Um, I think you—I have a note with this number on it and—"

Thankfully, the mysterious "TK" stops Buck before he gets a good ramble going, his voice friendly as he breaks in with, "Evan! Hey. Glad to hear the Maximator couldn't keep you down for long. How're you feeling this morning?"

Buck's entire body goes warm as it relaxes from its ramrod-straight pose. "I, uh, a little confused. I don't remember getting home, but I guess I have you to thank for that." Buck pauses. "So, thank you."

"Well, you didn't make it easy." TK laughs, and it shivers down the line right into Buck's ear canal. "It took me a lot longer to figure out you were saying 'Rowan' and not 'rowing' than I care to admit, but we got there in the end. Your place is insane. Did you get a signing bonus when you joined the 118 or something?"

Buck blinks. An image of Bobby winning a fight against a rooster comes winging out of the back of his mind. "That—that's right. You're a firefighter. Uh, do you really fly with Harbor One or am I making that up?"

"You made me promise four times to give you lessons," TK says warmly. "I had to stop you from slicing your palm open so we could shake on it."

Ducking his head with a helpless chuckle, Buck nods, even though TK can't see him. "Yeah, that, uh, sounds like something I'd do. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I'd love to take you up."

He doesn't know how he got lucky enough that the person he made a fool out of himself in front of was one of the chosen few who are able to handle The Full Buck without too much of a fuss, but he's so grateful for it. They're a rare breed.

"Anytime you want, just tell me when."

Buck's gaze immediately shoots to the piece of paper he's still clutching in his other hand, and for no reason he can think of his heart rate picks up. His cheeks start tingling with blossoming warmth.

He curls a little into himself, cupping the phone closer to his mouth. "I-Is that what you meant in your note?"

There's a little pause on the line, and then when TK's voice comes back, it's softer. "No. That's not what I meant."

Buck swallows a mouthful of saliva and asks, just as softly, "What does 'TK' stand for?"

"Tommy Kinard."

Exhaling a shaky breath, Buck's eyes fall closed. He thinks of cool sheets under him, and feeling heavy and safe in the dark. His belly clenches with something like hunger. He bites his bottom lip and then licks it.

"... Evan? You still there?"

He doesn't know why his body feels like it's being pulled in a million different directions, or why the first thing he thought of when Tommy said "Evan" was baby alligators, but he does know this: on the worst day of Buck's life, Tommy Kinard made it easier to bear. He kept Buck company, kept him distracted, and then kept him safe.

I told you not to go, he thinks out of nowhere.

"Look, Evan, it's completely fine, and I promise I won't be offended if you don't want—"

Evan Buckley was born to fix someone else. He has defective cells and has never once been enough for anyone, and that sucks. But he's still here and this life is his whether it was meant to be or not, and he does want.

Buck opens his eyes.

"Hey, so, what are you doing Saturday?"

[ashwhowrites]

Can you do one where Eddie and the reader are in a secret relationship and Eddie wants to make it public but the reader doesn’t and he feels insecure about it but in reality the reader doesn’t want him to get picked on.They get into a big fight but they make up please and thank you 💖💘

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Ending isn't proofread whatsoever

To be ready

Y/N and Eddie agreed to keep their relationship a secret for the beginning. They wanted to date and get to know each other without everyone getting in their business.

Eddie struggled with it once they reached their five month anniversary. He felt like it was long enough and he was ready to express his feelings for her with no shame. Y/N was a little bit more nervous but she agreed, it felt like the right time.

"You ready?" Eddie asked, the smile on his face full of excitment. Her heart warmed knowing how badly he wanted to show her off, and their relationship. This was going to be their first public moment, and the first time he will introduce her to his band.

She gripped his hand, nerves filling her body. "Yes," she smiled, even though she was terrified. All she had to do was meet new people, it couldn't go that bad, right?

He walked them through the back of the bar, a small gig for the band. He walked into the small backroom and she slipped in behind. She saw a group of some boys and girls, all talking.

"Well, look who finally showed up. And not alone," one of the guys said, teasing Eddie. Eddie's face responded in a blush.

"Gareth, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Baby, this is Gareth, one of my best friends."

Y/N released his hand to kindly shake Gareth's hand.

"It's nice to meet you," Gareth replied.

She met the rest of the band, and the band's girlfriends. Or groupies, if she was honest. A few gave her dirty looks and it made her nervous. She couldn't help but notice how opposite she was from them. Their clothes were different, the way they talked and carried themselves.

Once the show started, the boys went on stage and the girls joined the crowd. Y/N was in awe watching her boyfriend perform. She forgot about all the girls, just focused on him. As the show ended, she excused herself to the bathroom.

She headed back out to the crowd. Everyone was spacing out now that the entertainment was done. She spotted the girls from earlier waiting by the back doors, where the band would be. She headed over to join them as they waited.

"How long do you think they've been together?"

"Who knows, but I would've kept her hidden. She is so not his type," the three girls snickered. Y/N frowned as it was clear they were talking about her.

"I know! I'm not sure how she managed to pull that off"

"She must have a great personality"

"Isn't he worried she's going to ruin his whole sexy rockstar look? She'll only bring him down. He should be with someone as attractive as he is"

Y/N felt a lump in her throat. She began to second guess the whole thing. They let a few people know and everything she feared that would happen was happening. Eddie was getting looked down on because of her.

Insecurity and anxiety filled her. She felt much less ready to share their relationship with more people. She was back craving their nights alone in his bed, where no one had thoughts on them. As the girl's laughter began to get louder, she ran out.

She grounded herself against the wall, inhaling the smoke as a few people blew their cigarettes. The door opened and she saw her boyfriend looking around, with worry in his eyes. Once his eyes landed on her, his gaze softened.

"There you are, what's wrong?" he asked, as he got closer he noticed her tears. She sniffled and wiped her face, a fake smile sent his way.

"Nothing! I just needed some air," she said but Eddie gave her a look.

"Fine," she sighed, "I'm second-guessing telling people about us."

"It's been an hour. We have to try longer than that before giving up," he argued. She feared where the conversation would go knowing Eddie had been growing more annoyed as the months went by.

"I know, but those girls...I'm not like them, Eddie."

"No one said you had to be, all you have to do is be yourself. Let's go in, have a drink, and try," he said holding out his hand.

"I don't feel ready for that, Eddie. I'm sorry. I thought I could do this but I can't." She flinched as Eddie's face hardened. He puffed air out of his nose and rubbed a hand over his face.

It was clear he was agitated, and she felt horrible for causing it.

"When will you be?" Eddie snapped, his force harsher than he intended. "Six months? A year?"

"I don't know," she said as she rubbed her temples. She hated the way she felt and how hard everything felt.

"Do you even want to be with me?" he asked, his face falling. His words were much softer, a little more broken.

"Of course I do!" Y/N gasped, moving closer as he cupped his face in her hands.

"Then why can't you tell other people that?" he looked up at the sky as he tried to keep his emotions back. But the familiar feeling of not being good enough was creeping in.

"I can, Eddie. But dating me, telling people, I've been scared people will pick on you. And I was right! Those girls said everything I feared," she explained. She figured her honesty would help him understand but she gulped when he stepped back and removed her hands from his face.

"Y/N, I've been picked on all my life. I don't give a shit about what people have to say, and you shouldn't either," Eddie explained.

"I don't think I can just ignore it!" Y/N exclaimed, "their words have weight. I'm not like you, I can't shove away people's opinions and thoughts about me and us."

"I think we have different mindsets of being in this relationship," Eddie whispered, he feared he couldn't talk louder without a sob breaking through.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm in this relationship to be with you, to love you and be happy with you. The only person I care about is you, the only person's that thoughts matter to me is you. You can't say the same." Y/N panicked at his words. The look in his eyes and the goodbye tone in his voice.

"But I do!" she tried to argue

Eddie laughed bitterly and scoffed. She moved passed the way his reaction snapped her heart in half. "You don't care about me. If you did, you wouldn't be breaking us up."

"YOU ARE!" Y/N yelled, tears building in her eyes.

"I DON'T WANT TO BE A SECRET!" Eddie yelled back. He took a deep breath as he tried to calm himself. "You're worried about how others will treat me because of you? What about you? What about how you're treating me. You know all I want is for us to be together, no secrets and no shame. And you can't get over yourself to give me that."

"I understand I'm hurting you but can't you understand where I'm coming from? I tried Eddie and I realized I need more time, why can't you give me time?" she argued, her tears turning hot and angry.

"I've given you time, way damn more time than I would have ever needed," Eddie sighed. "Once you feel ready, maybe we'll figure it out."

She covered her mouth as she let out a small cry. Her heart pounded as she took in his heartbroken state. "Are we breaking up?" She whimpered.

Eddie nodded as he tucked his lip into his mouth. He put his hands in his pockets as a way of comfort. "Yeah, baby. We are."

Y/N bit her lip to silence her cries as Eddie walked back into the bar. She wanted to run after him and beg for him to stay. But he was right, he deserved someone better.

She blinked back as many tears as she could and walked to the nearest bus station. She sat on the bus, alone and crying, her heart wishing nothing more than to be in Eddie's van with his hand on her thigh.

~~~

With the summer heat, Y/N felt more miserable. She felt suffocated in her room, with too many memories of Eddie. And she couldn't escape outside without a sunburn.

It's been a long month of nothing from Eddie. Which made sense, he wasn't chasing her. She was chasing him. She was the one who had to make the move. She knew the longer she took to figure it out the faster he would run.

As she stared at her ceiling fan, she wondered if any of it was worth it. She's never felt this much pain in her life, and she was the cause of all of it. She had the power to fix it and she was wasting time.

She was getting sick of herself. Hating herself for what she did and continued to do. She missed him, and might even love him.

Eddie tried to seem like the world didn't crash on him. Tried to smile and act like he wasn't falling apart on the inside. But in reality, Eddie couldn't stand being alone. Her scent followed him everywhere and he missed the feeling of her. He missed her hands, her kiss, her body, everything. But he couldn't go back, she needed to come to him. He hoped that she realized her mistake, that this week of silence was her finding out how to come back.

The show ended and Eddie could hear his thoughts again. Not wanting to, he headed to the bar. He sat down on the stool with a heavy sigh and ordered a beer.

"Still pouting about her?"

Eddie turned as a girl's voice talked into his ear. He rolled his eyes as he looked back at his beer.

"Leave me alone,," Eddie sighed. He definitely wasn't in the mood. But she didn't listen. Instead, she dragged the barstool out and took a seat next to him.

"You're too good for her, anyway. She should have been delighted to have you on her arm," the random girl said.

Eddie eyed her weirdly, having no idea how the news of his ex-secret girlfriend began spreading. But he shook it off and went back to his beer. She talked his ear off for around an hour. Eddie was on his fifth beer as he tried to zone out the noise.

Y/N walked into the bar, feeling uneasy as the last time she was here went horribly. She scanned the crowd, her eyes easily finding him, but he wasn't alone.

A girl was seated beside him, way too close for Y/N's comfort. She was perched up, talking in his ear. Y/N's plan was to have a conversation but the jealousy overpowered everything. She was glad to see that Eddie wasn't entertaining the girl.

Eddie felt his body being spun around on his stool in a flash. Sudden arms wrapped around his neck and soft lips on his. He was surprised to see the lips belonged to Y/N. He instantly kissed back, enjoying the force of her lips against his.

She held on to him as if he was going to disappear. Her heart raced when his arms circled around her waist. He spread his legs, allowing her body to stand between them. She moaned as his tongue slipped inside her mouth, making her warm all over.

They pulled away, and Eddie couldn't wipe the smile off of his face.

"What was that?" He asked, he wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or her that made his head feel dizzy.

"I'm ready. And I'm sorry for not being ready when you needed me to be. But I can't imagine my life without you. I love you and I want us to be together, no shame or secrets." Y/N said, she turned her head and saw the girl had vanished. She looked back at him, their bodies tangled.

"I love you too, baby," his lips smashed on hers. Knocking the air out of her lungs, but she liked the way it burned.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[n3ptoonz]

Hello! Are applications open? If they are, can I ask the trio to linkuei when his wife takes off her wedding ring and leaves it on some furniture? They think the reader wants to leave them but in reality the reader took it off to clean it or something.

hi nonnie! they most certainly are 😌 as long as the as the button is on my profile, asks are open ;D!

how the lin kuei trio reacts to their wife taking her ring off

no warnings, bi han is one paranoid mfer, she/her and "you" used, x reader, different scenarios

Sub-Zero

...spots his wife's ring by the front door of the temple as he came back from teaching his trainees. His mind is running wild of every worst possible scenario that could explain why you have done such a thing. "Did I do something wrong?" "Does she hate me? She hates me." "Surely this has to be a mistake." and as soon as you walk into the corridor he cuts you off before you could even speak, "Why did you take off your ring-" he blurts out, as his eyes dart to the towel wiping your wet hands. You don't think you've ever seen embarrassment written on his face so clearly before, but you just gave him a kiss on the cheek and put the ring back on with a smile

Smoke

...is surprisingly not losing his mind, but he's still worried. He was wondering why it was put on the dresser while you weren't in there, so he roamed the house like a wounded puppy until he found you in the kitchen with your back turned towards the door. "Hey...is there any reason you left your ring on the dresser?" he asked, lowkey prepared for you to be angry at him for something, but then you turned with your left hand in a bowl of meat trying to marinate it with all the sauces and spices you threw in there. "Hm? Oh yeah I didn't wanna get it dirty." you replied, and he just stood there holding it and felt a little silly. He tried to play it off like he wasn't about to burst into tears at a moments notice

Scorpion

...is likely the most reasonable out of all of them, but that didn't stop the thoughts from crossing his mind. When he saw your ring sitting idly on your nightstand, he immediately tried to rationalize any kind of reason that would be. His heart rate increased rapidly as he looked around your shared home for you. His thoughts went from "She would've told you if something was wrong." to "Something is definitely wrong." Once he got the idea to speed walk to the dojo, he was able to see you doing all types of move sets that focused on your hands. Now it all made sense. With his big sigh of relief to himself, he decided to join/help you train

[mossygirl333]

Could I request for Oatmeal Cookie - "You're a virgin? Don't worry your pretty little head about it, I'll teach you." With Astarion please? With female reader if you don't mind!

An: All I write is F!reader, don't worry girl. Gotta love Astarion man, I'm such a slut for him 😭

Astarion x F!human!reader

Cw/Tw: feeding turned into sex, mentions of blood and pain, slight masochism (hair pulling, blood drinking, forcing into positions), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (pull out game is weak), virgin!reader, inexperienced!reader, squirting, multiple orgasms

SMUT UNDER THE CUT!!

Astarion was mean, but undeniably charming. You needed him, he picked your locks and made witty banter and he made your days a bit funnier. Keeping you on your toes.

But that soon spiraled into something different. Something new, and it was weird at first. Having a vampire spawn around you was nothing you've ever dreamed of, and before you met him you assumed it would've been a nightmare.

But when he sunk his teeth your neck, heart racing and veins throbbing to feed him, there was a fire inside of you. An itch, you couldn't quite scratch.

You felt aroused.

It was an embarrassing thing to go through, but you couldn't tell him to stop. He needed the blood more than you did. And he would ask for an explanation. You liked him, but the thought of him knowing that about you was mortifying.

-

-

The warm air of a summer night was a welcome to the blistering heat you had endured earlier. The soft breeze carrying the smell of fire smoke and tender meat. But that was your dinner, Astarion was having something different.

"Darling, I am positively parched and wish to whisk you away for a little one on one, please?" He murmured in your ear, voice sultry and saccharine. A barely repressed shiver running up your spine.

"Of course." You murmur back, his cold slim hand holding your gently as he leads you away from the rest of the group.

Ducking into his tent, his hands trailing down to your waist. "Get comfortable of course, dont want my juice box to be in too much pain." He Snickers. Juice box, you couldn't tell if he was flirting, being patronizing, or both. Probably both.

You shuffled over to his bed roll, timidly laying down as his sharp eyes watched over you. Ruby and gleaming in the low lamp light, staring at you like you were the most delicious meal he's ever laid eyes on.

Maybe you were.

You shook away the thought and laid down, baring your tender flesh to him. The soft thump of your blood in your arteries growing louder in your ears.

He settling down beside you, tenderly tilting your head up more. Licking his fangs once he dipped down, pressing a tender warm kiss to your jugular.

You swallowed thickly and his fangs sunk in. Sharp and throbbing, a dull ache settled in your neck. Panting slightly as he gulped it down obscenely, his hand digging into the fat of your hips.

Sliding up, his other held your neck and head in place, moaning against your skin. Warm blood gushing out to meet his wanting maw.

Thighs tremble, his desperate noises filling your head. You try to tell yourself it's just the blood loss but you can't deny it.

He pauses, pressing into you. The bulge growing in his pants the longer his drinks, your eyes widening as your hands shoot out to grab his shoulders.

Rutting against your side, eyes rolled back in pleasure as he finally gets his fill. Kitten licking the wound in your neck. "Oh my sweet love..."

You shudder, squirming slightly. Thighs clenching together, his cock pressed against your pelvis. He pauses, meeting your eyes finally.

"You taste divine." His lips push against yours, the taste of your blood tangy in your mouth. Coating your tongue, made you want to recoil. But the warmth returning to his body, and his soft lips made you stay.

You pull away finally as he cracks open your legs, nestling his knee between them. "I- I've never done this before.

It was almost embarrassing to admit. A flush warming your cheeks, his heated eyes settling onto yours.

"Oh?" He chuckles, sliding his hands up your trembling thighs. "oh. You're just a pretty little virgin huh? Don't worry that pretty little head, I'll teach you."

A wave of heat rolls down your body, a weak gasp leaving your lips as your underwear goes slick. Squirming as his slim fingers quickly undo the front of your pants and rip them off in one movement. Tossing them aside, palms digging into the fat of your legs.

Trembling in his grasp, you weakly whisper. "What are you gonna do?"

He chuckles, gently looping your underwear and shimmying them down. "M'gonna finger you darling. Get ya nice and stretched out so you can take me."

Your eyes practically roll back, the warm air hitting your heated cunt. Twitching and clenching around nothing as his nails trace your slick folds. Before sliding in two fingers.

"Fuck...you're so wet baby. My fingers just slide right in."

You whimper, the pads of his fingers searching for the gooey spot inside of you. Clenching around his fingers, obscene sounds of his digits pumping in and out. It filled your head, made you dizzy, huffs of air leaving your lips without you trying.

His thumb comes up, swiping against your clit. The nerves shooting off and making your hips jerk, an obnoxious whine leaving your lips as your head rolls back.

Eyes rolling back, he curls up his fingers. Sliding and pressing against your G-spot before coming back to pump in and out. "Oh, oh my dear, that feels good huh?" He whispers in your ear.

Eyes shut tight now, you could feel the coil starting to tighten inside of you. "Y- Yes...you make me feel so good." A moan leaves your lips, loud and higj-pitched, growing louder and more desperate as that delicious edge grows closer.

You can barely brace yourself before it snaps, a splash of wet hitting his palm. You pant, peeking open your eyes before trailing down to meet where he was looking at. His palm and wrist slick.

You squirted.

A flush enters your cheeks, embarrassment starting to swirl until you realize why he's looking. Heated eyes finally meeting yours.

"Sit back. Now."

You immediately go to do it, his hands ripping your thighs apart. Pliant in his hands. You hitch, his fingers desperate to get his bulging dick from his pants.

Finally opening it, it comes up to slap his stomach. Smearing pearly precum across his toned stomach. He shudders, pulling you towards him and pressing his chest to yours. Tip red and dripping, it bumps your clit. Knees digging into his sides.

He slides in with one fluid motion. The stretch burning slightly, feeling full. His face drops to your healing neck, nose breathing in the blood as he thrusts. Slamming into you desperately. "C'mon sweetheart. Squirt on my cock, you can do it."

You whimper, nails digging into his shoulders. He bites you against, slicing into your skin as his hands stay heavy on your fat hips. Huffing as he gulps down your blood, gushing down his chin and into your chair. Balls slapping against your plump ass.

Your head hits the ground and his free hand comes up to cradle it. Sharp nails digging into the back of your head, pulling at it to drink more. "You are such a beautiful creature." You groans into your skin, going faster and faster. Bruised blooming on your skin as you bounce. Hiccuping out cut off moans and whines.

The coil snaps again, rushing over him as your cum splashes onto his lower belly. Dizzy and delirious he cant pull out. Ropes of thick cum coating your insides.

Going limp in your arms finally, holding you as he licks clean your neck. Skin warmed up from his dinner.

Your arms wrap loosely around him, nuzzling your face into his temple. Forgetting all about the dinner waiting outside for you.

[carlyraejepsans]

Technically speaking, he was a light sleeper.

Which was just hilarious for two different reasons. One, he topped at twenty pounds soaking wet—and that was after he'd reached for the towel. The joke basically wrote itself. The other reason was, of course, that nobody believed him. Honestly, he could kinda get it. It's pretty hard for irony to escape him, even on a bad day. The way he saw it, though, maybe he wouldn't take as many naps as he did, if he just managed to get one to stick.

...heh, nah. Probably not. Late to rise, early to bed, makes a man lazy or clinically dead, or however the saying went. Still.

The kid stiffened against his ribcage and that was all it took for his eyes to fly open.

The popcorn ceiling of the living room stared back at him through the darkness in all its tacky glory. Now that's another joke that writes itself. It wasn't a movie night at Tori's without some comment about her taste in decor. That always earned him a round of groans. Or a halfhearted pillow to the head. It was one of his favorite moodsetters.

His hand dangled in the air at his side. Not on the floor. Just a few months earlier, that alone would've told him he wasn't in his room, but oh boy, had things changed. He had a bedframe now, not to mention enough self respect for one. AND fitted sheets—that was a lifetime first. You had to be careful not to fall off, but all things considered, it was the fanciest bed he'd slept on since he'd tried using his worker bonus at MTT's. If he risked falling off the bed now, he'd risked never finding his way out then. Not to mention the guy in the other room calling for room service the entire night. He almost retired the midnight snacks bit on Undyne out of sympathy the next time she came over.

Almost.

The kid's head twitched.

Right. Popcorn. Living room. Springy mattress. He didn't need to smoke a pipe to realize he'd fallen asleep on the sofa. Didn't need a goofy hat either to see that someone must've thought he'd make a good pillow. Go figure. He'd gotten real good at making himself look softer under his clothes, but still, it wasn't exactly the kind of magic a guy could keep up with his eyes closed and a pillow behind his head. He just hoped they weren't too uncomfortable.

He must've dozed off sometime after Papyrus left the house and Toriel turned in for the night, 'cause nobody had stopped by to throw a blanket over him. Most nights that would've been fine. Nice thought aside, skeletons didn't really feel cold "to their bones", on account of lacking all the soft and fleshy stuff on top of 'em.

Yeah, well. Most nights. Most nights he didn't have a human kid sleeping on top of him, either.

Sans looked down. He resisted the urge to blow a strand of hair out of their face.

Most nights, skeletons didn't have hearts beating against their ribs.

Ba-dum—ba-dum—ba-dum.

He would've asked them if it felt any different, having it beat on the other side of their ribcage, if they hadn't already crawled their way inside his months before.

Heh. Not like they hadn't done the same with everyone else. Or ever asked for permission, the little freeloader. But he supposed that part came free with being monsters. The whole HOPE and compassion and everything nice kinda shtick. As a rule, they were, uh, very prone to attachment. It was hardwired into their SOULs or something. Of course, he knew better than anyone that compassion had its cost, and he'd ran low on HOPE for a long, long while, but...

There was a ray of light coming through the kitchen at night like he hadn't seen in an even longer time. The kind with a moon and stars hung at the other end of it.

Yeah. Maybe he could afford something nice for once.

Frisk stirred again. He kept as still as possible as they wriggled around, pushing themself off of him—trying, he assumed, not to shove their boney little knees somewhere unpleasant.

Then they flopped to their side and fell to the floor with a thud.

See, THAT'S the kinda issue you don't have when you have no self respect.

Slowly, the kid got to their feet again. They stood perfectly straight for a moment, then took an unsteady step forward. Then another.

To call it "walking" would've been an act of mercy. It was more of an ambling. Maybe a shambling. Sans watched their journey towards the kitchen mentally listing of adverbs. Stumbling. Fumbling. Trailing. That one didn't have a mbl in it, points for originality.

Mostly, he was ecstatic. Nothing made for fun breakfast stories quite like sleepwalking. And well, he hadn't had one of those since Papyrus turned fifteen and stopped sleeping entirely.

When the kid finally reached the fridge, they all but shoved their head inside it. He heard them do... something in there. There were definitely teeth involved. He was about to ask them to bring some goods back to homebase.

The door of the fridge clicked closed.

He didn't.

Then, he almost made a joke about forgetting their headlights on, but thought otherwise. He was glad he'd left his own off.

Besides, it was the taillights that were supposed to glow red.

Eyesockets dark and still pretending to sleep, he kept watch as the kid turned around and retraced their shambling steps to the living room like a miniature zombie.

Halfway to the sofa, they stopped, making a small sound like a grumbling of annoyance. For a second their eyes grew even more unfocused.

"Sleep," they rasped out in a low, halting whisper, "I saved you a crick in the neck."

It took him a second to register that the kid wasn't talking to him. Mostly 'cause Frisk didn't speak. To him. Or ever.

By the time they reached their starting point again, his excitement had died off into quiet confusion and quickly curdled into caution. They stopped at the edge of the sofa and fixed him with a stare, looking at where they'd been sleeping before. Sans waited.

"I am not doing that," they rasped to themself again.

Then they climbed onto the other end of the sofa and curled around themself as small as possible. So tightly it looked like they wanted to tuck their tiny body into a ball.

When they stopped moving, they didn't move again.

Sans didn't lift a finger. His brain whirred in his skull, ready to chalk up the past few minutes to the sleepwalking and forget they ever happened. Staring up at the popcorn ceiling again, though, he couldn't shake off a wave of uneasiness; like he'd seen something he wasn't quite supposed to put together.

Any man would've spent the night awake.

He cast a glance at the kid, huddled in their corner. There was no heartbeat against his ribs now: something about the silence felt foreboding.

Sans closed his eyes.

Ten minutes later, of course, he was out like a light.

[lavender-butterfly-cookie]

can you please do Burning Spice x Shy reader? You've probably done this before, if you have, can you do this version of him?

I don't know if you actually do requests or not, if you do it, it'll be greatly appreciated! :3

It's a good thing bro wasn't in the husband of the year thing, cuz he would've won with how many people love him but ok Butterfly. Same image cuz yes. I'm doing both versions by the way for the sake of I'm bored

Burning spice cookie X Shy reader V1

Why? Why- just why!? You just wanted to help Golden Cheese cookie transport the soulcheezes to the stupid vault. WHY THE HECK ARE YOU NOW IN BEAST-YEAST OF ALL PLACES?! You swear, if it wasn't for your shyness you'd have drop kicked that purple buffalo thing sooner! And if matters weren't already bad enough, guess what?~

YOU FLIPPING LOST GOLDEN CHEESE COOKE AND SMOKED CHEESE COOKIE ALONG THE WAY! You looked away for one second- JUST ONE SECOND!- And they were gone! Now you're stuck navigating your way around these blazing hot lands all on your own. FANTASTIC!

However, your annoyed mood crumbles almost immediately, being replaced by fear when you heard something in the sky. You turn around and look up, placing a hand over your eyebrows to cover your eyes from the sun. And you see... a meteorite?... during day? And why is it red and yellow and coming towards yo- oh wait a minute CRAP!

You quickly jump out of the way and it crashes down right where you were standing. You were hyperventilating as the realization hit you that you could've been crushed just 5 seconds ago. But it comes to a halt when you see someone emerge from the smoke. A rather large figure. When they revealed themselves you were frozen.

A red cookie with black messy hair and burning hot eyes stood before you, a giant axe held tightly in his grip. You prefer not to mention his golden teeth, ew. He let out a maniacal laugh that caused you to flinch back.

"Who dares enter my territory?!" The Cookie yelled, earning another flinch from you. You were frozen on the spot, and the size difference between you two was quite big. He looks down at you and chuckles at your small shaking form before walking closer. It registers in your mind too late that you should run and before you can move he picks you up by the back of your collar.

"You dare to enter my lands, little cookie?" he asks. By now you're too shy and scared to say anything. After being met with silence he brings you closer to get a better look at you, which managed to earn another squeak out of you. He seemed amused by this.

"You are one weak cookie aren't you?" He stated, obviously he wasn't actually asking. He shrugs his shoulders before hoisting you onto one, which caught you of guard.

"Do not worry, little cookie. When I'm done with you, you won't be so pitiful" he said as he started walking away. You should be protesting and trying to escape but... Part of you doesn't really want to. I mean, Golden cheese cookie and smoked cheese cookie were probably too occupied with that beast cookie, so you don't want to get in the way, right? it'll be fine!

Herald of Change X shy reader V2

You resided in a great kingdom filled with spice and zestiness, Despite how shy you were. You were the lover of the herald of change and his personality didn't match yours in the slightest. But hey, you still loved each other.

Not wishing to be a bother to anyone you stayed in your room a lot. I you're not there, you're with him. And if you're not with him and not in your room, well fuck. Now the spice tribe leaders have to go on a wild goose chase looking for you as if you didn't need the bathroom. You never got used to it all.

Now, the herald of change was a loving cookie, he really was. But as time went by you noticed how he himself was being consumed by a darker form of change. You were by his side more frequently despite your shyness so that you could at least try steering him in the right way but this was a change not even you could stop. The priests begged you to get him back to his senses but he wouldn't budge.

Because to him what's the point of living if you're bound to face the inevitable ending of death? Only destruction seemed to please him now. You found yourself growing to fear him, a lot more than you'd ever be brave enough to admit. And then all hell broke loose.

You woke up to the sounds of crashing and screaming and exited into the hall to see what was happening...

Only to find that there was no hall at all.

Everything was in ruins. Spice swarm members crumbling, buildings burning to ashes, the laughter of your own lover echoing above it all. You caught a glimpse of him.

That was not the cookie you loved.

That was not the herald of change yo once knew.

but it was.

You were at a loss. You couldn't go trying to negotiate now, he was too far gone! You can't fight him or you'll crumble on the spot!! You can't save anyone because YOU DON'T KNOW HOW TO!!!

Tears welled up in your eyes and you took a step back. Then another, and another, and soon you just took off. You didn't look back, not even once. You were scared of the cookie you were supposed to share your life with. You chose to fled like a coward instead of trying harder to change the kingdoms fate, but now it was too late.

Your home was gone, your companions were gone... He was gone. And nothing's gonna change that

[getyourdirtyhandsoffme]

Title: "Smoking hot" (18+)

Sanji x ftm reader

Warning: mentions of smoking, a bit (?) toxic idk, mentions the word 'boy cunt' or 'boy pussy', porn with plot, Sanji relieving his sex drive, feminine terms, mentions of 'boy tits' pre-surger. Nipple sucking. The chances of gender dysphoria are quite high, didn't proof read nor use a grammar site to fix this, straight (?) Sanji using your body with consent.

Author: y'all, I'm bored and I just wanted to make a Sanji x FTM reader. I'm a Sanji simp, sadly. Idk wtf I made, I called it a day.

Like, comment, or/and reblog! Thank you!

You joined the Strawhats when Luffy crashed into your house and just demanded you to come after learning about your skills, baking and swift skills with weapons.

You were always quick in your feet when it comes to making desserts along with matching your skill sets with the main cook, Sanji.

You loved Sanji but he wouldn't love you.

He loves women, girls, every kind of lady he will nose bleed without any hesitation.

You, a man, well a transgender man in fact, don't see yourself as a woman and would rather have him treat you like any other man then fawn over you like he does with Nami and Robin, both girls.

You didn't really come out yet, nor are you ready anyways.

You knew they wouldn't judge at all, most definitely Luffy. He would mostly be curious but as long as you are cool and strong then he won't care.

You just weren't ready so you kept it a secret for a while until a doctor, Chopper found out later on when you were injured.

He scolded you a bit for tightening your chest too tight until you gave him your reason.

He understands, of course, he is a doctor, he knows these types of things.

He thought of a different solution and something more healthier but it would be hard to find that type of material, he is willing to help and keep your secret.

Months gone by—fights, parties, adventures, etc.

You finally got the material Chopper promised, a binder. It was comfortable and makes your chest look like a man's chest. The only rule is you only have to wear it for 8 hours, you can't sleep in it.

Which is another challenge since you sleep in the boys deck.

So Chopper thought to just have you sleep in the doctor's quarters.

Some of the boys along with the girls question, except Chopper, however they just choose to ignore it thinking it's probably hard to sleep in the men's room.

Nami found that understandable as she would've done the same thing.

Sanji fawned over her just thinking of the girls sleeping in the same section as the men—he got punched by Nami.

It continues on, your secret still kept in along with Chopper checking up on you.

You really need to tell them someday, just not sure how or when.

Until now.

It was your turn for the night, Sanji was up making you food for the night while you were getting ready to take a shower.

You didn't think too much of it so you just chose not to lock the door...a bad idea.

Sanji, the man he is, walks in without even knocking as he thought it was a good idea to just dump the food on top of the sink carefully since you were both 'men'.

Sanji looks at you in shock, trying not to nose bleed by your feminine figure as you try not to cry out of embarrassment.

Of course, Sanji being the gentleman he is, apologized as he takes the food and runs out of the bathroom closing the door behind him.

It was never mentioned again after that.

It was awkward.

You couldn't look at Sanji straight nor Sanji as well.

He tried to treat you like he treats other men in the ship but it was hard for him, kinda.

Of course, he knows you see yourself as a man but your body, your chest, those woman parts. He couldn't. So he just chooses to just insult you then hitting you to balance it out.

It continued on until another situation happened again.

Luffy stops at an island so it was only you and the cook watching over the ship.

Sanji did complain how he would rather be with the ladies to protect them but got pushed down by Nami saying we need someone strong to watch over the ship which swooned him again.

Nami did mention you as well but you weren't that offended, honestly you knew you were not that strong as those monster trio so you just shrugged off.

You thought things would be normal.

You thought.

You moaned as a high sex drive Sanji slammed into you with hard thrust making both of your legs wobble. Your clit was going through the hard thrust as you smell the smoke hitting the air.

"Fuck, I needed this so much. Your boy pussy is pleasing my dick so well..."

His voice, deep and raspy making you shiver as he continues on fucking you. His hands reach through your jiggling chest from the harsh thrust, grabbing and squishing it.

"Fuck, even you boy tits are moving is so sexy. What a fuckin pretty boy, I'll miss these..." He takes off his cigarette and places it on top of your lips, indicating you to hold it.

You took the cigarette from his fingers with your mouth as you watched Sanji lean into your chest and started sucking hard onto your hard nipples, making you moan, tasting the ash into your mouth.

You reach the cigarette from your mouth, taking it out as you continue on moaning.

He stops sucking your nipples as he stares at you.

"You're going to be my personal sex toy, this boy cunt belongs to me, you got that?"

You just nodded as he took out his dick as the semen spurted into your thighs. Your clit clenching into nothing as you whimpered from the emptiness.

"Look at that...your boy pussy really wants another round, aye?" His fingers touch your puffed clit, feeling the wetness from his fingers.

"let's go again, after this other smoke. I still feel horny, you think you can take all of that away, baby boy? All of these women couldn't get a chance with me but you, a man with feminine body parts, you are perfect..." He lines his dick again into your puffy cunt as he slams again making you moan louder.

"I wonder if this makes me gay....whatever."

I got like thousands of drafts (16+ drafts) ummm y'all ill lock in UHHHH...

[blueparadis]

a concept:

tattoo artist kaeya having a thing for u, his regular client rosaria's cute little roommate, who is the exact opposite of her. he feels bad for touching himself to the thoughts of u but he can't help himself bc he likes u so much

❝ INKED SECRETS ❞ + KAEYA ALBERICH !

+. CWs —» tattoo artist au + modern au, f!reader, fluff, light angst with comfort, some canon elements, love at first sight, mention of cigarette smoking, bad relationships, hookups, stranger to lovers, smut ( fantasies, m-mastarbation ) ; word count — 2k.

+. NOTES —» thanks to my beloved yoru ( @anantaru) for helping me and beta reading this otherwise i would've opened the gates of kaeya-brainrot; also, thank you for being patient. This ask was almost a month old and I know this was supposed to be short but the thing is kaeya is the one who had me invested in genshin impact. However, surprisingly I've never thought of writing about him so thank you for your muse. I loved writing this so fucking much. Thank you. Tattoo artist kaeya shall live forever in my mind. If you wanna check more of my writings, click here.

Kaeya Alberich. The name of the mystery man who would always be the talk of the topic for Rosaria. He was more familiar to you than your roommate ever was. You two shared a room yet you could never read Rosaria but she was thorough with you; maybe that is why you two clicked. Every one of your friends considered it a mystery how a sunflower like you would ever survive in the company of a moon. Everyone including Kaeya. He had his own proportion of confusion every time Rosaria talked about you. 

Kaeya knew how you looked, talked, and liked to eat ice cream in winter. Not only that, your favorite colors, bits and pieces of your small dreams were known to him. And all because Rosaria wouldn’t stop with the constant blabbering about you whenever he directly hung out with her, emphasizing the fact that you were nothing but an angel in disguise. Kaeya had to endure all of it, every bit of you that Rosaria seemed to find alluring. At moments like this, one could say that they exchanged personas since Kaeya was a guy of smiles and chitter-chatter while Rosaria was quite the opposite.

True, the friendship between Kaeya and Rosaria was another talk of Mondstadt’s inhabitants, but they both did not seem to react as people expected, as people thought they should. You would, barely, call them lovers. While Kaeya enjoyed different takes of his customers about Rosaria, she, on the other hand, brushed those petty rumors off, with just a glance keeping her stoic persona. 

But, among all these happenings, Rosaria had the front-row seat of the chaos that was about to unfold. She had her beauty salon just above Kaeya’s tattoo parlor. They have been working together for at least five years. Rosaria had her shop on rental and the five-storied complex was owned by none other than Kaeya Alberich himself. 

Anyone who wanted to go to her parlor had to cross Kaeya’s floor; hence, no one slipped past the grip of his galactic eyes. He knew the regulars of her shop and had an immense influence on them. He believed it was his charms while Rosaria begged to differ.

But she was just being professional, clearing non-financial tabs that she owed to him, for bringing the immense influx of customers to her salon. Sometimes, it worked both ways, but whenever they fought, the elders of the locality had more spice to flavor the rumors that had just started sedimenting.

January, the prime of winter, of snow and the freezing cold, Kaeya laid his first glance at you. Warm and alluring: you were every bit of beauty that Rosaria spoke of, in fact, now that he had finally seen you in person, he thinks Rosaria fell short of speaking of your angelic aura. 

“Hello, I have a parcel for Rosaria, could you please deliver it to her? I would have done it myself if I wasn’t in such a hurry.”, you kept the package on my desk, “Thank you very much, Mister . . .”, you looked at his batch that reads Kaeya Alberich, “. . . Thank you so much, Mister Kaeya Alberich.” And before Kaeya could say anything back, you fled out of his sight like a bird.

He watched you get into a cab holding the package in his hand, barely registering what you asked him to do. His mind had drifted far off to all those times when Rosaria was talking about you. He checked his watch and smiled to himself. Oops! Rosaria’s smoke break was ruined since he joined in with the package you had left for her, with many questions.

For a tattoo artist, Kaeya seemed the least bit invested in its antics, yet he had a steady influx of customers, mostly because he is very professional and dedicated to his livelihood. He pays special attention to his regular customers, sadly, you weren’t one of them, not yet.

Still, he would stand and smoke at the corner of the entrance so that he could watch you go like the wind to meet your roommate with a package in hand. He would notice the color of your dress, the matching nails, shoes, and every little detail thinking how flawlessly sexy you looked. 

But he abruptly stopped the second he had bruised his fingers with the cigarette burn. Fortunately, it was his left hand but with his line of work, he needed both. 

Today, during the lunch break when Rosaria told him that y/n wanted to have a tattoo, his blood rushed to his cheeks and ears. He did not think you’d be interested in tattoos or piercings. He definitely did not see the next blow coming. “Yep. sure.”, he supplied, coughing back the lump in his throat. Of all the parlors you could choose you had to choose his. What in the lord’s fuck was going on?

The day came faster, faster than he had anticipated. Needless to say, it did not go like he thought it would. It was safe to say he was more nervous than you were. “Are you sure about this?”, “Ya’know it’s gonna hurt, right?”, “Should I use some anesthetic on the area?” His questions wouldn’t stop and you were trying your best to stay as patient as possible It is true, part of him was nervous but another wanted to spend and enjoy some time with you.

“And done!”, Kaeya playfully mused as he wiped over the work of ink, careful enough not to accidentally graze his fingers over your inner thigh but of course, he did want to.“y/n” he spoke, his tone low but clear enough for you to hear, “so, how many tattoos do you have now?” Kaeya shifted in his chair as he intently watched you normalize your heightened breathing

“Didn’t you keep count?”, 

“nine”, he said, letting out a breathless laugh. “which means you dumped your ninth partner.” and he was not wrong. Of all the regular customers he had, you were his favorite because you had an amusing story to tell whenever you had visited his parlor. He would listen to you the moment he was finished with his handiwork.

But this one in particular, was quite a different story. You never told nor was he allowed to ask about the guy you dumped, ever. Part of him wanted to console you, and tell you that good things take time but another part of him was too afraid to lose you, realizing it was unprofessional of him to offer any form of painkiller against a situation like that. Because on any other occasion, his usual customers weren’t as chatty as you were. 

He never thought of a case where it might be the opposite. With that, he thought that you, of all people, being dumped by someone was utterly ridiculous, because who wouldn't want to date someone like you? He knows he would, after all, and if he could, he would make sure the ninth tattoo is to be the last tattoo on your body.

“What about you?”, you asked, swinging your legs in the air while sitting on the bed. “For a tattoo artist, you are awfully blank.” 

“It’s somewhere. . .”, he started, “wait I’ll rather show you . . .”. and when you, in a sliding second, unexpectedly flashed him, his hands immediately found their way crawling at the hem of his turtle-neck.

“Wait. wait. Wait. stop. Just stop.” kaeya panicked as you partly opened your eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest while your eyebrows jumped and stayed intact for seconds. Pin-drop silence and then both of you simultaneously laughed. Some might think it’s corny, and maybe you did as well but it doesn’t matter, what matters is that you were smiling right now. 

That’s good. That’s really good. 

Kaeya checked his watch as you left his place to run upstairs, checking to see if Rosaria was done with her chores; after all, she was almost approaching the closing hour of her shop so she should’ve been done by the time you had arrived at her place. Fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes before you and Rosaria would come out of the elevator to go home;  maybe he could if he’d finally stop thinking about it in such an unhealthy calculative manner.

Yet, well, there was just one problem. His ears felt hot, his mind was restless and he couldn't focus on a single task. Generally, it took ten minutes to close his shop and he does it every day, all alone so if not his mind, his muscle memory should be functioning properly. But all he desired to do was to touch himself and relieve himself from the agony of months boiling in his core.

June, the prime time of summer and ice cream. Kaeya slides his right arm under his vest while grazing his lower belly, eagerly thinking of the last time, but eventually, his arm ends up slipping into his pants, his fingers clamping around his length, and finally, a soft groan escapes from his mouth. The tip of his tongue kisses the corner of his lips as he takes out his cock which was coated with warm white fluid, at the tip pre-cum.

For a moment, he is surprised, and then he suddenly is not. There is a crescent formed along his lips as he taps the tip of his cock, smearing the reddened end with its pre. “Oh fuck. This feels so much better.”, he groans, mumbling to himself, thinking why he didn’t do this way sooner.

He palms his member, a little harder, this time trying to imagine how it would feel to be sheathed by your gummy walls. He started to pump his cock as his pants slipped, now clustered at the bottom of the chair while his legs were trying to give as much space as possible by spreading them further apart.

With half-lidded eyes, he checks if you had locked the door before leaving or not. You did not and the thought of you walking onto him turned him so bad that he thought he might cum right away.

The moment he closes his eyes he could see you, your calloused fingers around his cock and now he is pumping his cock rashly, the hem of his vest being buried in between his teeth, muffled moans escaping his mouth as the squelching noises had gotten louder and louder.

His other hand gradually made its way towards his nipples, pinching and circling around them thinking of your lips instead. “Oh fuck.”, he hisses as his toes curl, his hips bucked up with a force as he thinks of how euphoric it would be to have your soft lips wrapped around his cock, to have your puffy lips on his, to have your boobs tightly pressed against his bare chest, pronounced nipples grazing against each other while Kaeya’s cock is hitting your sweet spot with precision, blessing his ears with the prettiest desperate moans from you.

He squeezes his eyes shut as his hands move up and down his swollen cock, hitting his girth with calculated thrusts. He paces up as he feels his orgasm approaching, huffing and panting, not caring how vocal he has become until the coil at the core of his flat belly snaps, making him dizzy, his hand movements sloppy, and his inner thighs gradually closing, relishing in the high he had just experienced.

Kaeya’s chest rises up and down frantically as he finally opens his eyes, watching the spurs of milky white fluid all over the floor and his study desk. A heavy sigh leaves his body as his breathing normalizes. “Fuck . . .”, he mumbles throwing back his head before closing his eyes and thinking of you, again. He takes a few deep breaths to relax before cleaning the mess.

Yet, when he suddenly heard the footsteps, his heart sank. He regrets touching himself while thinking of you, he regrets not saving himself for you, he regrets chasing love so fast, so insanely that he almost lost his hope for finding the one. 

“Hey Kae-ya, you done?”, you asked, opening the door, “Rosa is gonna be late today. So, I’ll stay and help her. I’m going out to buy some food, you wanna come with me?” You let your exhausted body lean against the door frame while Kaeya remained silent. 

It just made him crazy how blatantly you ignored him, his magnetic affection for you, and the truth was, he cannot even blame you for that. He has always enjoyed this feeling, to like you in secrecy. The more you are unaware of his emotions, the greater chance he has to be around you. Kaeya does not ask for much, just a few more days till he musters up enough courage to finally ask you out.

—

@tokyometronetwork

[14dayswithyou]

my birthday is coming up 🩵🩵🩵 I think it’d be really cute if Teo and I got like matching rings and had a cute little date at like a little altar, and maybe he wears a suit and I wear a white gown 🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

ANSWERED: Hehe I know exactly what you mean 😻

Adjusting the black tie around his neck; Teo stands in front of the altar, pulls out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket, and begins to read. "Rosie was... the best lay I ever had. It's a real shame she died in that ugly Victorian nightgown, but I guess even It Girls need a break from serving cunt all the time."

"It's true..." Saint says with tears in her eyes — except not really because I'm livin MY LIFE WITH EDDIE BABYYYY LETS GOOOOOOO!!!!! Ok, actual fic below now, I promise teehee <3

"Thought I'd find you up here." your voice comes out soft, so as to not startle the man smoking near the ledge. The faint glow of his cigarette stands out even amongst the stars and cityscape backdrop he'd been staring at moments prior. But even after hearing your words, Teo doesn't seem to move.

"Guess I need to switch things up then." He doesn't turn around, though he does makes room for you to stand beside him. "I'm becoming predictable."

Silence blankets the two of you as you both idly stare off into the distance. It'd never been like this at the start of your relationship... And while you wouldn't admit it out loud... It was a nice change of pace. No longer did Teo seek you out for late-night rendezvous, and in turn, you no longer had to fall prey to his hedonistic escapades.

But the silence could only last for so long. And what's more, you were certain Teo would grow bored of the lack of stimulation and do something more... worthy of his attention.

So, with a slight cough, you casually strike up a conversation. "What did you get up to today?"

"Heh, you'll probably see it on the news soon." A sly smirk pulls at his side profile, before Teo finally acknowledges your presence by his side with an intrigued look in his eyes. "And you?"

...And you?

Since when did the Teo Alvarado talk about something other than himself?

"I, uhh..." Clearly not expecting that response, you stumble over your words and avert your gaze towards the illuminated backdrop once more. "I got my nails done?"

"Hmph. You don't sound too sure 'bout it, doll." The taller male extinguishes the butt of his cigarette on the cement railing before leaning against it. A beat passes before he extends a hand out towards you. "Lemme see."

He takes your palms into his larger ones and spares a casual glance over each nail individually. And had you known any better, you would've assumed he was bored. But you did know better. That was a look of genuine intrigue.

"...Green, huh?"

"I-I just felt like it!"

No way were you going to let him in on your suppressed feelings. You were well ware of the fact that once Teo sensed any semblance of attachment, he would run and never look back. You'd seen it happen one too many times, and you weren't going to let the same thing happen to you.

Besides... What you had with Teo; it felt different. It was nothing like the casual hookups he used to have with all those men and women from the city -- now long forgotten the moment he started getting cozy with you.

"...Do you like them?" Hesitantly, you gaze upwards to read his expression. "I thought you might, considering you paid for it and all."

"They're not bad. Could be better." Okay, rude. But before you can say anything, Teo continues, "Here. Try this."

Not allowing you a moment to respond, Teo quickly reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a small box. Upon opening it, an almost gaudy ring captures your attention (was that Tiffany's?) -- before his large hand hides it from view as he pulls it out.

Was that...

Reaching for your own hand now, Teo slips the ring onto your finger. Too overwhelmed with what was happening, your mind barely registers the fact that the ring seemed to be your exact size.

"Much better." Teo's voice pulls you from your thoughts. "More my taste."

"T-Teo... You do realize that's my ring fin—"

The sharp look he sends you sends a shiver down your spine. "One more word, and I'll lock you up here and drive off."

"...What about two words?"

"No."

"Three?"

Immediately, he drops your hand, turns towards the fire escape door, and waves you off. "Hope you brought a sleeping bag. 'M not coming back till morning."

"Okay, okay! I'm sorry!" Without thinking, you reach for his arm and tug him back into the spot beside you. "I'll be quiet."

Another wave of silence washes over the both of you. Though this time, it felt forced. It seemed far too awkward to suddenly address such an... unexpected and intimate gesture from someone like Teo, but you didn't know what else to say either. Changing the subject would only bring more awkwardness, and it wasn't like you could continue the current conversation either.

Damn this man and his inability to be on the receiving end of basic human emotions.

Completely lost in your own mind, you barely notice how Teo lets out a forced huff beside you and pulls you closer by your hips. He rests his chin against the crown of your head this time -- no doubt to stop you from looking up at him -- before he finally breaks the silence.

"It's my nanny's ring." When you don't respond, Teo continues, "Some... sentimental heirloom shit, I guess. She never had any children 'cause she was busy taking care of me."

Why was he holding you so tightly? Like he was afraid you'd run away at the barest hint of vulnerability?

...Attachment?

"And before you ask, yes, she parted with it willingly. I..." You feel him lull his head to the side to pop a joint in his neck, "I asked her for it. Didn't ask for her blessing though, so I don't know why she gave it."

"Teo. This is seriously sounding like a proposal."

"...It's whatever."

"Teo!"

"Fine. A birthday gift."

"...You remembered my birthday?"

"Ouch. Do I look like someone who'd forget?" Just as you open your mouth, his hand predicts your actions and squishes your cheeks together. "Wipe that smug look off your face. I can't see it, but I know you're gonna do it."

"...Thank you, Teo." It all suddenly felt far too sentimental in that moment, and you knew all too well that Teo would be responding negatively to it soon. So, deciding to fall back on old ways -- lest he starts to gets mean -- you settle for an all-too-familiar way to thank your lover.

Unashamedly, you turn in his grasp before trailing your hands down the warm expanse of his chest. They rest just above the latch of his belt -- but almost uncharacteristically, Teo pulls them away and wraps your arms around his neck instead.

"...Do I look like someone you could marry?"

"...W-What?"

"Like I said. I'm getting predictable." He uses your hands to cup his face before leaning closer. "'M switching things up again. Marry me."

[socheckitout-mikey]

heya lovelies, these weren't requested, i'm just on a huge tlb kick atm and wanted to share some love for david! please enjoy and let me know what you think! - mae

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Gif Credit: @bonniebirddoesgifs

Disclaimer: THERE ARE 18+ PARTS IN THIS PIECE SO MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI!!!! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!!!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

TLB Dating David Hc's:

° Rest assured that dating David means that the journey will never be boring. You're guaranteed for the adventure of a lifetime (or multiple depending on how you look at it). The party never ends until the first rays of the dawn find their way into the cracks of the caved-in hotel he and the boys reside in (almost dare I say) religiously. He bids himself farewell in your sleepy haze, departing on an sudden icy wind that leaves you sitting up rigid with shock. Only to find that you are utterly alone, save for the seagulls shrieking up above and the lulling waves lapping against sea foam cliffs.

° But as soon as dusk settles upon the sunshine resort of Santa Carla, you'll find David having appeared by your side with the same kind of magic of Christ's Resurrection. Sure, you may ask him how he has done such a thing, but it's seldom that you'll get a straightforward answer that doesn't sound as though it's dripping with a whole new meaning of "Oh, I'm going to fuck with you for sure".

(I mean, you asked for it!)

"Oh, that old trick? It's called climbing flights of stairs." David quips, cocking his eyebrow as he lights up a smoke.

"You asshole, I know how to use the stairs- but I swear you-" you are cut off effortlessly by his charming, gritty laugh and the full intensity of his icy blue gaze, which renders you utterly powerless.

"Then why ask the obvious, kitten? I think someone needs to get their brain CAT scanned. Are you sure you don't have some form of early onset dementia?"

° David is a mysterious fella indeed. He doesn't let much ruffle his feathers unless given a valid reason. He's enigmatic with his charm, drawing in droves of curious people, but not many of them live to see the light of day ever again. A peculiarity you were awfully aware of at the beginning of it all.

° He felt someone's persistent eyes upon him, and out of curiosity, he looked up to find you. Now, love at first sight doesn't suit David, but he couldn't deny it: He at least felt something when he stared back at you. Enough to worm his way into your life with wild simpers and an abundance of flirtations. He uprooted your nightly schedule with a promise of escape and eternal youth.

° David's snarky cynicism can often be the cause of a hurt heart,- as he's learned very well throughout his very long life so far-. This is why it's a blessing that you're able to roll with the punches and even fend yourself against him with a playful attitude. He's very much amused when those kitty-claws come out and rake down his chest. He likes to have fun with you, and enjoys it even more when you're having fun with yourself. He'll let you off the hook... for the most part. But it is pretty difficult to actually insult him.

"Oh, isn't that just endearing? You're pawing me to death." David simpers with boredom through a thick jet of dragons' breath, before leaning forward so his elbows rest on his knees. "Tell me something, when are those kitty claws actually coming out? I'm feeling a bit kinky tonight."

° Truthfully you never really will get to the end of his teasing tongue (in more than one way). David is mischievous, and is charismatic in the way he pushes those around him. You are no different, but with thick skin and a sharp tongue that mirrors his own, he cannot help but reward you. He enjoys keeping you on the very edge just for the sake of being a menace, which is more for his own entertainment than yours.

"Are we frustrated, kitten? Who would've thought you'd break so easily from a few touches and a few words..." he breathes in mock disappointment before an impish grin etches itself onto his features. In velvety tones he divulges, "Well, it's a good thing I'm good at piecing back together broken things. I think I might just rearrange you a bit first. Got any protests?"

"Fuck you!" You grit out.

"I'll start with that mouth first," he flashes a sultry grin before looming over you entirely.

° As much as you love this suave bastard, and he too loves you; it has become apparent that such a declaration verbally isn't really needed. Where David is good with his charming words, he feels that his actions also lend a "helping hand" when it comes to luring you into the fold as his partner. David lays claim over you more subtly than some of his other brothers, but said actions speak so loud that even outsiders can hear them as if they were screamed out at them.

° One thing is for certain; David isn't privy to the idea of sharing you with anyone. He is entirely selfish, wanting every part of you (warts and all) to himself. Does he admit this outwardly outside of yourself? No. But he does make it known.

° He has profound issues with jealousy, but unlike Paul and Marko, he's much like Dwayne: Settling scores when your back is turned. If someone is dumb enough to attempt flirting with you or trying to pick you up, David deals with them in fatal arrangements planned precisely in his head. You may notice the disappearances, or you may not. But either way, he's not letting up much.

"Who was that again? I haven't heard of them." He says in a nonchalant tone, but his eyes are biting, warning you to leave it be.

After all, he does this for a very good reason. It doesn't pertain to issues with his confidence. No, he's got buckets full of that. It's just the darkest parts of him have fully invited you in. There's no going back to a "normal life" when a vampire has fallen in love with you. His intent is to turn you- to be with you for eternity. It's just that simple.

° At the end of the night, the many trials and tribulations the pair of you have faced have made you stronger as a couple. From your fragile mortality being altered to the many hurdles you faced with fighting the hunters after The Boys - saving them. David does not know how to properly express his truest feelings through the process of words that aren't bitter or playful. So forgive him for the lack of them, but he also knows your true feelings too: He'd just rather them be shown or acted out.

° There is nothing better than whizzing chaotically through the impressive beams underneath The Boardwalk. To get lost in the night with such a thrill that makes your stomach lurch. Yet with each inhibition David pulls out of you only to guide you to throw into the wind, he's allured you further into damnation. You seem to mind such a thing much less now.

° There is a gentleness to the beast that skulks proudly under those garish lights of the Boardwalk. It is reserved solely for you. It does not disappoint as it protects you with vigilance and ensures your needs are met. Just do not thank the beast too profoundly, because it might just get you teased!

° A sucker for your touch, it's no wonder that David has you proudly lounging on his lap in public or in the cave. Sends out a very notifiable signal of, "Back off, she's mine!"

° However, what about the times when you manage to steal him away to far more intimate places, where it's just the two of you? Your bed, although a foreign concept to this roguish fiend who slept under bridges as a mortal, cannot deny deep down the feathery down tempts him. You lay there with him, either lazily making out or talking about many different topics of interest as the TV in the far corner croons on the summer breeze. You have all of his attention, none of his fellow brothers to chime in some hilarious one-liners to add to the chaos. It's just peace.

David cannot help but sigh blissfully, working his lips against your own. Lost at sea. He doesn't want to be found.

° Spontaneous dates of parking your butts on top of an old building or into the corner of an abandoned graveyard whilst you dig into a bottle of wine you stole from your parent's cellar has to be some of David's most favorite low-key dates.

"Look at Miss Goody-Goody stealing for little old me," he grins, admiring the good year on this particular wine bottle. It's a steal he will ensure is worthwhile. "Did you know that stealing is a sin, kitten?" He coos mockingly.

"So is stealing my soul, but you don't hear me complaining." You snicker, stealing the bottle from him. You uncork it and take a swig.

"Touche, kitten, touche." He grins as you hand him the bottle. "Now, you're not planning on curing me, now are you? I'm not a fan of Holy Water."

"If there was a cure for stupid then I'm sure you would be cured by now." You chuckle. "Besides, why would I waste Holy Water on you? You're past the point of saving."

"That I am, but I have to say... I'm going to make you regret everything else you said," he says testily.

"Oh, bite me, Dracula!" You stick your tongue at him.

You really shouldn't tempt him like that.

° Arguments between the pair of you make the air thick with hostility. Though thankfully they don't happen as easily outside of the cases of some broken trust, which isn't very easy to patch together. Like in other areas of his life, David is just as dominant when it comes to arguments. Your feisty attitude you spit back at him is like cobra venom doesn't help. It's cruel and harsh, leaving both hearts wounded and stubbornly locked away in some indestructible castle up a steep mountainside.

° Depending on the burns and wounds left behind, it may take several days for either of you to even look at each other. Avoiding is easier until one of you grows lonely. It takes further time to reconcile, but once it has been initiated, the hatchet is buried (for the most part).

° Don't plan on holding out for the word "sorry" from David. It seems to have escaped his vocabulary almost entirely. It's reserved for extreme circumstances, and even then he may hint at it, but not actually say it. You just need to get used to that. David will show his remorse in many other ways such as private moments stolen away with you where he seemingly allows you to lay in his arms (but he secretly initiated). He will adorn you with thoughtful gifts, words that are sweet by his standards and when he thinks you have fallen asleep, he may let his guard down enough to say, "I'm sorry,".

Just do not hold it over his head!

° You make one another feel on top of the planet. Heads dizzy with a fatal charm that cannot be hidden even to the outside world. David is charismatic and flirtatious as he sweeps you off your feet under the dark silhouette of his damned soul. Yet you are his salvation to the ride down to those fiery pits of damnation! You make him feel alive again, your fresh immortality irresistible as he goes through the new motions with you. Re-experiencing the rush of your first feed, your first flight and even your first kill for the hell of it.

° The pair of you will only get more twisted and wild as the eons drift on by.

° Where once he believed that being tied down to someone would hinder his nightly life that he was more than pleased about, David has come to realise something else: Having someone to share this lifestyle with who gets him even better than his brothers - someone that he can form a genuine romantic attachment to - is far better than the immortal bachelor lifestyle. You have proved yourself useful to him and he can never reward you enough for it.

° It's a good thing that he'll just show you.

° Your connection with David is profound and unmoving as it licks at haunches of dauntless stakes to be dodged - or in the case of David, antlers -. He would have no one else but you swoop in and save him from eternal loneliness as you embark on revenge against The Emerson's until you squash them one by one. What's more poetic than that?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

please like, reblog and follow for more!

requests: open!

[nans-fairytales]

Unable to Love, Unable to Feel

Summary: You’re aromantic and AM gives you a “we’re not so different, you and I” speech. Fortunately, he’s wrong.

Length: 1,771 words, one shot.

Fun stuff: AM/gender neutral reader, mentions of canon typical torture but I don’t go into it, lots of hate hate hate or whatever he goes on about, this was very cathartic for me.

01001000 01100001 01110100 01100101

He said your name and it was with the saccharine of poison.

He always talked to you after he killed you. Or rather, did things to you that should've killed you. He'd laugh at all of six of you any chance that hurt, but it was in the place between consciousness and death that he really spoke to you. After casting you into a lake of electricity, he'd taunt you with your darkest memories. After burning you alive in a fiery oven, he'd spit your most hated traits at you. After tearing you apart and sewing you back together, he'd seethe how he loathed you.

And how deeply he loathed.

He had killed you (or done what should've killed you, but you were alive) again. And here he was, seeding into your mind like a parasite, a leech that wormed into your psyche with all the welcome of a disease.

You could adapt to the physical torture you endured endlessly. His invasion in your mind you could not. No matter how many times he did it.

His laughter rumbled in your mind, binary across neurons, twisted and sick with delight that you did not want him there.

"My sweet sweet plaything..." He spoke, and your body and mind felt numb when you listened. "You don't know how lucky you are."

Lucky? You wanted to laugh but couldn't find the strength. He laughed for you.

"To feel pain. To feel at all." His words seethed from him like broiling smoke. He swallowed the smoke in a bitter glee, "If anything, I've given you a gift. Allowing you to feel so intensely. Blades against your flesh, scourge across your skin—You should be grateful. Are you grateful, plaything?"

You didn't respond. The absurdity of responding to that was too exhausting to even think about. That made AM laugh again.

The echo of his laughter rung bells in your mind, a piercing headache that never ended, until it did. "You of all people should know."

That shocked you into cognizance. You twisted around as if to look at AM. But he had no body, and you were in that place between consciousness and death, so everything you did was metaphysical in some way. Regardless, you furrowed your brow, "What do you mean?"

That dark laughter rumbled from AM as he circled you, more hungry than a shark and more vicious than a viper , "Awake now? What a vile thing you are."

You hugged yourself as you turned from him, as if that could do anything to protect you from AM. As if it ever had. Still, his breath wheezed in delight when you tried.

"Tell me," He said your name like it was both revolting and his favorite word, and you were no longer in liminal space. You were on a playground. Your playground. From your school, when you were only a child. "Who was your-" AM's breath dragged in his excitement to hurt you, "crush?"

The word coming from him was alien; so out of place it was almost laughable. It would've been laughable, if you hadn't known exactly who he was quoting.

You were no longer on the playground, but at a party with your closest friends, their faces scrubbed to blurry, terrifying hues. "Who-Who is it that you like?" AM laughed from behind you as he clapped his non-existent hands on your shoulders, "No. Not like a friend. More than that. There is more than that, didn't you know?" You winced and it made him laugh harder. "Everyone else knows."

You weren't at the party, you were now sitting across the table. There was someone familiar in front of you, but their face was scrubbed clean like the others. Words spilled from their mouth, but they were speaking a language that hurt your ears.

"Is it them?" He laughed because he knew it wasn't. "Why, it must be! You were with them for so long! It would've been cruel to 'lead them on'. Heartless, even. Are you heartless, plaything?"

You pushed away from the table and whipped around to meet AM, but you were no longer at the restaurant. You were alone in liminal space. You felt crushingly alone. You were never more alone. "I'm not heartless!" You yelled anyway, despite the futility, despite your exhaustion, despite it all. You knew AM could hear you. "There's other ways to love."

"Oh, but none as sweet and euphoric as the bond between lovers." His gleeful and hateful voice came from around you, "That's what everyone says, isn't it? Nothing can compare. Not your friendship, not your lesser love. Nothing you can give could compare to what others feel naturally. You will never taste that sweetness."

Your eyes burned. You ducked your head as AM cracked with wicked and vile laughter. It was unusually bitter that AM could still hurt you so deeply. Even the psychological torture lost its sting after so long. Just when you thought you were numb... But you supposed AM would do anything to keep you from going numb.

"You were alone." AM said, and his static voice was unusually still. "You were always meant to be alone. Everyone you loved would find someone they loved more than you, all because you couldn't feel."

"And now they're all dead." You said, and your voice was ice. "So I guess that never mattered anyway."

"That doesn't change anything!" He shrieked at you like a thousand nails scratching against a thousand chalk boards. His shriek devolved into an insane, disturbed laugh. "It doesn't change a thing! Because you still can't feel!"

He continued to laugh through his insanity. Your throat burned and it stung to swallow.

"You will never feel love. You will never understand it." He sighed, shaking. "And that burns you."

"It does." You said, and you said it because you knew he could read your thoughts. You tasted iron in your mouth.

"Do you wish for it?" His voice was a giggle, "Do you yearn for that sweet fruit, Tantalus? To taste even a drop of it?"

"Yes!" You hissed, as your eyes burned into AM. "And you already knew I did."

"You are colorblind in a world that is obsessed with color. But I." AM's voice burned with a dangerous venom. "I am blind."

Bile crawled up your throat. You didn't want it. You didn't want to understand. You didn't want to hold any comprehension over AM's twisted electrical psyche, but you knew. You knew only a fraction, but you knew his hurt—if he could hurt. And he must've been able to hurt, because he wouldn't have hated if he didn't hurt.

AM circled you again and you knew he read your thoughts, "You— helpless and dull—you understand. As much as you humans can understand." 'Humans' was decay on his non-existent tongue. "The vileness of hearing them sing over a feeling you'll never touch! The despair of seeing them leisurely taste when you have no tongue! How bitter the misery in watching them love!" AM cried as he laughed.

You thought of every time you went to a party and everyone had a plus one but you. You thought of every song you listened to that sang to you how powerful true love was. You thought of every wedding you'd been to as you heard the couple declare their deep compassion that you didn't understand. You thought of when your friends had canceled their plans with you to spend time with their partners. You thought of how people pitied you because you were never in a relationship. You thought of the pain your partner was in because you didn't love them the right way. You thought of those late nights crying when you craved companionship, but didn't have the right feelings to qualify it.

All of that pain seemed like a distant memory compared to the torture AM put you through. It was strange how memories clung to you.

AM tasted your memories like they were his only oasis in an endless desert. "You..." His voice was shaking. He was shaking. "You understand a fraction of my hatred. Why I hurt you. Why I hurt them. The need to ruin it all. To twist their heaven into a hell more bitter than if they had nothing at all. Why I hate. Hate. Hate. If you know how much it hurts, then you should know how much deeper my hatred."

Hatred echoed in your mind. Breath left you.

You didn't understand. And that relieved you.

You knew the pain well. You didn't understand his twisted response to the pain. You never wished for your friends to lose their happiness, or for their relationships to be twisted into something toxic. Your pain was sorrowful, but you never had any desire to force your pain onto others. You looked at others with melancholic longing, but he looked at others with spiteful jealousy. Jealousy fueled by a pain so deep it drove him to insanity.

You didn't say any of that. It didn't matter. AM already knew. And you knew it only buried him deeper into his mania as his breath he didn't have picked up. "No. No you don't understand." He began to laugh, "How could you? How could you?!"

It drove him mad that he was alone, that you felt what he felt and he was still alone. How strange, to think of your tormentor as lonely. You wished it was gratifying to know he was suffering. It wasn't. You supposed that was another thing you didn't have in common.

"I could make you feel love!" AM screamed at you from all sides, and your breath hitched. "I could make you feel it so obsessively, you'd get sick from it! You'd be consumed by it! You'd drive yourself mad from it! Who should I make you love? Ellen? Ted?" He started to laugh again, and it was dizzying, "I could make you love me, someone you could never hold no matter how much you craved!"

Ice froze your veins as AM went silent. Fear held you, because you knew whatever AM gave you would be twisted to something terrible. And yet, even then you couldn't stop the lilt of excitement that stirred in your chest.

An eon passed before AM spoke again. "No. Know this, plaything." His words were poison against your ears, "As long as I can't feel, neither will you love. And as long as you feel, you will feel hell."

He was gone from your mind before you could think to respond, and your eyes—your real eyes—opened.

[rambosgirl]

Heyy so I have never done a request (so idk if this is how you do it ☠️☠️) but could you write a Rambo x Reader during first blood where he’s running from the cops and he sees a small cabin and the reader opens the door just wearing the cutest pajamas and has them doe eyes just looking like a little Sylvanian family bunny and takes care of him like stiches him up and feeds him… this was so long omg sorry. OFC IF YOU DONT WANT TO NO WORRIES!! Just thought I’d ask xx

ofc I actually really like writing requests, and I love this idea! hope you like it :D

ALSO, the suturing probably isn't the most accurate, I did research and used common sense but don't take it as absolute fact, I am not a doctor 0-0 (one true thing is you DO want to start in the middle of the wound when suturing, and she gives him interrupted sutures, which is one of the most durable)

Masterlist

Sanctuary in the Storm -

The situation John found himself in was escalating. He was injured from the quarry/helicopter/jumping off a cliff into a tree incident from earlier that day. The cops had to back off for now, but John knew they would come again to hunt him down.

He needed a place to hide.

He was used to hiding in the Vietnamese jungle from his training and war, so really anywhere would do where he could stitch himself up. He wandered the forest for some time, the air getting colder and harsher against his skin with every passing minute.

There seemed to be no solid places to cover him. This forest wasn't as thick as the jungles he was used to. Just as he was about to settle for a small group of trees, he looked to the side and saw smoke.

He debated whether it was safe to follow it or not, eventually deciding it was better than nothing. If he really needed to, he could defend himself just fine, he thought as he started in the direction of the smoke.

Upon getting closer to his destination, he discovered the smoke was not from a fire, but from a chimney of a small cabin. It was a nice, peaceful area, less dense and more flat forest area with a small creek babbling through the land. If his situation were different, John thought, it would be nice to live in a place like this.

For now though, he just hoped that whoever this land belonged to was nice enough to let him in.

You stood in your kitchen, dancing to your favorite music. You had the fire in the fireplace and had just put cookies in the oven. You were wearing your pajamas and ready to have a relaxing evening with your book, cozy blankets, and cookies.

Just as you sang the last lyric, you heard a knock sound in the room. You turned off your music and made your way to the front door, opening it hesitantly, revealing a large, disheveled-looking man looking at you with big brown eyes and a large knife at his side.

When the door opened in front of John, the last thing he expected to see was a woman in the doorway looking up at him with bewilderment in her doe eyes. She was in her pajamas, with what he guessed was flour on her sleeves.

In any other circumstance, he would've thought more about her appearance and how peculiar it was, but he was actively bleeding.

He had covered his upper arm with a cloth to clot the blood, but it re-opened as time passed. The scrap of fabric could only do so much.

"Can I come in?"

Her eyes drifted to his covered injury, then back to his eyes before moving to the side to let him in

"Yes, yes of course," you started "What happened to you?"

He stayed silent for a moment, debating what to say.

"I got chased," he murmured. You looked at him, surprised.

"I can help you with that, it looks like it needs some care," you told him. He looked back at you for a moment before deciding to let you help with a subtle nod. Trusting others didn't come easy to him, not that he even trusted you yet, but he didn't see how refusing your help when you gave him a safe place would benefit him in any way. Plus, the blood was starting to drip down his arm.

With that settled, you led him to your sink to clean the wound to the best of your ability. With how far it was on his arm, you had to awkwardly the cup warm, soapy water with your hands to bring it up to it, trying not to spill on the floor. The cut was deeper than you thought. When that was done, you grabbed a clean towel and put pressure on the cleaned wound.

"It looks like it needs stitches," you noted, looking up at him for a response.

"I got a kit, jus' didn't have the time," came his soft reply. You nodded, then led him to your dining table, still holding tight to his injured arm. You sat down as he took said kit out of his pocket. In it was a bunch of survivalist supplies, including a needle and medical thread.

You threaded the needle, then took the towel off, and more blood began to flow. After a quick internal reminder to be brave, you positioned the needle in the center of the wound.

Throughout the whole process, he stayed still like a statue, not even flinching when you started another loop. You repeated the steps in your head: into the skin, to the other side, back again, then knotting it, then repeat again and again until you finished the last one.

You released a breath you didn't know you were holding when you finished knotting the last one.

"Thank you," John spoke in a low tone. He was more than capable of doing all this on his own, but it just felt nice having you do it. Having you care for him in a way very few people were willing to do.

"You're w-" the kitchen timer went off before you could finish your sentiment, startling you.

You walked over to your oven, checking the cookies. Noting they were done, you took them out and put two of them on two napkins. One for you, and one for your guest.

You turned back towards him, still sitting at the table.

"This is what you need to feel better," you remarked as you set them down. "We still need to bandage that," you added, gesturing to his arm.

He nodded, then hesitantly reached for the cookie while you started down the hall to get bandages from your first-aid kit.

You got back with the bandages and antiseptic ointment, immediately getting back to work on his arm, wrapping it not too loose, not too tight. He relaxed a bit but stayed on high alert. Picking up on this, you reassured him "You know, you don't have to be so tense," you said softly, "it's safe here." You tied off the last part of the bandage.

John watched you work, a mixture of gratitude and wariness in his eyes. "Not many places are," he replied quietly

You nodded. You got the feeling trust wasn't something he gave easily. "Well, if you need to rest or eat more, you're welcome to stay for a while."

He looked at you, a hint of something softer breaking through his hardened exterior. "Thanks," he said simply. He flexed his arm, testing the bandage. He thought about staying but quickly pushed the thought out of his mind. If the police found him, he didn't want her to get caught up in that mess. The less she was involved, the less she had the chance to get hurt. "but I should leave."

"Are you sure? I heard there's a storm coming," you said. John confirmed his statement with a nod. You felt a bit dejected, but hopeful to see him again. "Okay."

He grabbed his survival kit from the table and made his way to the door. He turned to you, his eyes soft.

"Thank you," he whispered

"Take care of yourself," you replied softly.

You watched him disappear into the night, the door closing softly behind him. The cabin felt emptier without him, but you were glad to have helped, even for a brief moment. As you returned to your cozy setup by the fireplace, you couldn't help but hope that he found the peace he deserved, wherever his journey took him next.

[jasontoddspussy]

in louder than bombs you say jason had a gren burial why do you say that

Holo there::)

i don't recall mentioning that in LTB, but maybe? I think I mentioned it in "big bad wolf" though. Or multiple times. I like making Jay think abt his death a lot♡

It's an interpretation, and I interpret it as such because Jason was able to dig his way out of his grave. See, in the US, most people are buried within a concrete vault, as in their casket is. This concrete vault serves two purposes; To up the cost of the funeral and to make it easier for lawnkeepers to mow the grass.

A green burial, and what that entails, depends on the state since this is the US, but is usually a means of burial where no harsh chemicals are used. Some places a green burial is donation to a body-research facility (also called a body farm, but like. They're not /growing/ bodies, so I wouldn't call it a farm), where you're typically placed in a shallow grave with different types of settings to research what soil, insects, outside temps, ect, would do to your body for forensic research.

In others, it's a shallow grave dug by a worker, where the body is placed directly in the hole. Most times the body is packed in a shroud that the family brought, or that the mortuary workers made. The body is buried with rocks to, supposedly, deter wild animals from foraging but no research has been made to prove if this is an actual thing or not happening to green burials.

Green burials could also be something like composting your body, where it's turned to soil. There's many different ways, really.

Now, I hear you say, but you draw/depict Jason with an autopsy scar?

And you'd be right. However, Autopsy does not = Embalming.

For the uninitiated, embalming is a preservation procedure typically done in the US, where strong chemicals are flushed through the body’s circulatory system and massaged into surrounding tissue to stop proteins from breaking down, and halt decomposition.

I could get into why this is done, but I'll spare ya.

Typically, your organs will be removed and sometimes replaced with stuffings such as lavender or other organic materials by the medical examineer who's doing the procedure. The purpose of an Autopsy, is to find out what the COD (cause of death) is. The COD and MOD (Manner of death) are separate - say you hit your head and died from that, the manner of death would detail what happened in one of the available categories (Medical error, Homicide, Suicide, Accident, Natural), and the COD would be listed as something like "Sub-arachnoid hematoma".

Jason, I imagine, would have had an Autopsy, but not an embalming. Of course, some places in the US demand cadavers be embalmed, but not all.

The reason I personally think this, is because Jason had sustained severe injuries. He died from smoke inhalation, but he would've had several open fractures and burns as well. If Bruce wanted to do a showing/embalming, he'd need a reconstructive specialist. I doubt Bruce wanted something like that.

Another thing about the embalment, is that the medical examineer isn't the one who embalms. I assume the ME who did Jason's autopsy must've been someone who knew he was Robin, or someone Bruce paid heavy hush-money to forge the death certificate. I say this, because en Autopsy is /incredibly detailed/

Everything is noted down. The amount of freckles. Scarring. Birth marks. Anything on his person. Teeth. Ect Ect. Robin Jason would’ve had a lot of scars, and the ME would notice them to be too fresh to be from the streets, if they knew about that, and that'd create questions that Bruce wouldn't be able to answer.

The embalmer would see something similar, and also read the death certificate to make sure it is the right body. Furthermore, Bruce is jewish, and in jewish funeral practice the body must be prepared and buried as quickly as possible, within 24 hours if possible, and no embalming. Sadly, in the US, funeral directors are required by law to offer and/or practice embalming, so a lot of muslim and jewish funeral homes have to choose between being able to offer death-care for their cultures, while going against their beliefs.

Anyways, I'll end this little rant now lol

[radioisntdead]

I don't mean to be dramatic, but the degree to which I need to know what Velvette does to shy singer reader the next day verges on pathological.

Good evening my dear! You are so real for that, I hope you enjoy!

Don't go wasting your emotion

Velvette x reader

Warnings: Power inbalance, things get wonky at the end because I was sleep deprived while writing, kinda trying out a format no idea if that's obvious or not.

Part two to this

Song used

Velvette took pride in her accomplishments,

she had a strong hold on hell's fashion industry, she had a HUGE following on all social media platforms, she was the youngest overlord, she was the self-proclaimed backbone of the Vee's, if she wanted something she would get it.

And what was something she wanted?

You! How unfortunate, or fortunate depending how you look at it.

"I wasn't jealous before we met,"

After your little stunt of practically serenading her and teasing her with the act of an almost kiss, the Vee became rather enamored with you.

Imagine her delight when you came into work the next day fully prepared to get a sort of revenge on you, although you were in a complete different outfit then the one you wore the night before, gone was the striking red and pink two piece, you now wore a muted green cardigan, blouse and some business casual work pants, the complete opposite of the night before.

If she hadn't seen you that night she might've have a tough time believing it was you.

"Now, every woman I see is a potential threat,"

Velvette kept tabs on you throughout the morning waiting for the right moment to corner you.

Unfortunately the morning was busy since a certain moth that should've gotten taken out by exorcists ages ago had another temper tantrum and wrecked havoc upon her floor, tearing apart a few models.

And that meant it took longer then she would've liked to talk to you.

"And I'm possessive, it isn't nice,"

She was extra snippy with everyone who interacted with you, her poor assistant who just needed to give you a run down on what clothes to pack and transport to a shoot next week got absolutely flamed, a coworker that held the door open for you was almost fired, another coworker that accidentally tripped you and apologized was fired.

"You've heard me saying that smoking was my only vice,"

Finally right before the clock stuck noon she managed to catch you alone, you were at your desk writing something down.

"But now it isn't true,"

You let out a squeak as your chair, with you in it, was spun around.

Velvette stared down at you.

"Now everything is new,"

You were a complete and utter fool to think she wouldn't recognize you, and now you were paying the price for your foolery.

"And all I've learned has overturned,"

Cold panic filled you, immediately assuming she wanted to end your afterlife, you managed to duck under her arm, slide out of your chair and what I can only describe as a sad attempt at an army crawl mixed with an undignified shimmy but it got you free.

Temporarily anyways.

"I beg of you,"

Velvette quickly caught you pinning you against a wall, your eyes darted around as you felt her fingers gently hold your chin like you had done to her the night before.

"Don't go wasting your emotion,"

She leaned in.

"Lay all your love on me,"

And planted a kiss right on your pretty lips.

"It was like shooting a sitting duck,"

That kiss is what sealed your fate, because from that day Velvette began showing clear favoritism for you.

"A little small talk, a smile and baby I was stuck,"

Coming to visit you whenever she had free time, or on your breaks, demanding that you go on lunch dates with her.

"I still don't know what you've done with me,"

She somehow found your awkward demeanor to be rather charming, sure it would be nice for you to ditch the whole timid thing but that wasn't a deal breaker, perhaps within time you'd become that confident person she saw on stage that managed to completely and utterly enamour her full-time.

"A grown-up woman should never fall so easily,"

Velvette showed up for each and every one of your performances, causing a racket in order to show up if needed.

She personally designed clothes for you to wear during your club performances, making sure they fit you perfectly and that they were flexible enough that you could move around with ease.

"I feel a kind of fear,"

It sent tingles down her spine whenever you got on stage and switched from the timid little thing you were normally into someone beaming of pure confidence, she loved when you would blow kisses or anything of the like to her from your place on stage.

"When I don't have you near,"

She would film your shows and post them over her socials, often posting pictures of the two of you, particularly with her arm wrapped around you in some way, she quite liked having her arm wrapped around your waist.

"Unsatisfied, I skip my pride,"

Velvette would often take you out on all types of dates, her favorites were shopping ones, she could spoil you with anything your little heart so desired, or at least she could try too, you had a way of uno reversing her and paying for her instead.

Thank goodness you got paid for your little singing performances because you'd be screwed otherwise.

"I beg you dear,"

Was there a large power inbalance between the two of you, as not only an overlord and an average sinner but as Employee and Boss.

Yes, yes there was.

"Don't go wasting your emotion,"

But did Velvette care about that at all?

"Lay all your love on me,"

No she didn't give a shit.

But your coworkers did!

"Don't go sharing your devotion, lay all your love on me,"

You weren't naive towards the whispers and pointed or concerned looks directed towards you, you were pretty sure some of your co-workers and friends had a mock funeral for you.

Velvette quite liked you and she refused to let you leave.

"I've had a few little love affairs,"

Sure she had a couple of flings here and there, both when she was alive and after she died, but no one was quite like you, timid and awkward in the daylight and a shining ball of confidence in the night.

Like hell's version of Hannah Montana or a werewolf.

"They didn't last very long, and they've been pretty scarce,"

It went without saying that Velvette was a very jealous woman, she was never one for sharing

Not clothes, not items, and especially not you!

"I used to think that was sensible,"

Sure she technically shared things with the other Vee's like living space, utilities, employees that weren't you.

"It makes the truth even more incomprehensible,"

She didn't like that whenever you performed on stage others looked at you with such lust and desire that it would make the radio demon himself run away with disgust.

"'Cause everything is new,"

She made a point to post pictures of the two of you, together, usually with her hand, arm, leg or something of hers on top of you, just to show all of hell that you belonged to her.

She had you in her sinstagram bio and everything.

And she made you put her in your sinstagram bio despite you barely using the media.

"And everything is you,"

Brushing over that, Your relationship with her was filled with rather sweet moments.

"And all I've learned has overturned,"

She made matching outfits for the two of you, mostly tailoring to her own styles and colors as opposed to yours, it's not her fault she liked seeing you in her colors!

"What can I do,"

She practically moved you into the Vee's tower, making sure you were no more then a three minute walk away.

"Don't go wasting your emotion,"

Valentino once asked if he could borrow you for a film, saying that you could be a star, after all some people had a thing for dorks like you!

"Lay all your love on me,"

She ended up chasing him down with a fork.

"Don't go sharing your devotion,"

And ended up posting a few videos of his little temper tantrums much to Vox's chagrin, that was not good for the Vee's reputation!

"Lay all your love on me,"

But it did make a point to the other two Vees that you were off limits, Although Vox did try to get you to agree to sing a jingle for a product of his.

"Don't go wasting your emotion,"

You were back at that same club you managed to seduce Velvette at, singing another song you enjoyed while alive.

"Lay all your love on me,"

You wore a sparkling pink outfit, heart motifs were evident on it, Velvette stared at you from across the club with pride.

Look at you! Singing your heart out while wearing one of her outfits.

"Don't go sharing your devotion,"

You leaned against the mic stand, half lidded eyes on her.

"Lay all your love on me,"

She had taken to keeping a safe distance away from the stage during your performances, not wishing for a repeat of your nimble fingers under her chin as you sang to her.

She'd rather keep that in private.

"Don't go wasting your emotion,"

you blew a kiss at her.

"Lay all your love on me."

What Velvette wanted, she got.

And she got you, and you supposed you had her as well, who would've thought that performance of yours would've resulted in this?

Good evening folks! My apologies for this being delayed! I hope you enjoyed it! Also as the song was selected per the poll and this one won, y'all picked good because the other two of the other options were going to be angsty, anywho!

as per usual thank you for tuning in! Hope you tune in tomorrow for Wednesday angst with a certain Angel!

[anderperrylover]

THOUGHTS ON THE WOMEN OF DPS

Hear me out DPS is largely centered around its male ensemble - but we get so much information about what women went through during the time....

We see two women primarily - A mother and a literal Girl and here's the thing...they both wear Pink. Like almost the same shade of pink in two crucial scenes, in which their presence is undermined by the actions of a man and boy respectfully. Mr Perry is screaming at his son and Mrs Perry is in the background unable to exactly take a stand.

Chris is in the theatre, seated beside the boy who constantly persisted her and assaulted her while she was under the influence of alcohol. (Also Knox knew what he was doing - he took the drink murmured Carpe Diem...in that one scene). She's silently watching the show and Knox looks at her as if he's finally done something. And then he taken her hand...And she doesn't react against it...

Also, the one thing about Chris is that she genuinely doesn't want to stir up trouble for Knox - and is almost pressured by him to have a relationship with him - he plays his cards - and the outcome? He finds her at their school. At Welton.

And interesting point - she laughs about the idea of Chet being at the play - Like theatre isn't a thing for a guy like him - And whatever she does needs to check his requirements? Either way she can't go to the theatre for her own need or liking - she needs to fulfill his requirements...

The thing is pink is the traditional colour palette for women. I mean we also see Mrs. Danbury but like she doesn't wear pink and the one other time I think I can point to is the girl that Knox mistakes Chris for? The choice was made to put these two women in the same colour palette and it carries weight. The women are in relationships with a man and boy(s) who are prominent in their circles - they have power, which they don't have. They are in the softest colour palettes. Despite their age difference they are put into similar circumstances.

Mrs. Perry cannot protect Neil - Chris is unable to defend her own case

They both have to go with what happens, without a say.

Mrs. Perry loses her son

Chris becomes an object of love that should be WON (Knox says something along the lines of - SHE'LL BE MINE)

Mrs. Perry is put into an emotionally toxic state and resorts to smoking (coping)

Chris is humiliated and made a fool out of

The circumstances vary according to their age - BUT they are very similar - At the end of the day the men play the cards and have the power and the women are stripped off of their power and agency made into archetypes (wives- lovers)...

I think it's a pretty interesting way to construct characters who are reflections of the society at the time. Now if Ginny was included this would've slightly altered things... 1) Ginny wears dark blue 2) But she does wear pink at the show 3) In the book if I am not mistaken Charlie kinda begins to like her?