#”the monkeys name isn’t fucking monkey ball”
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A Girl with No Name
A/N: This one shot POURED out of me. All because of this incredible art by @chu-cho Thank you for creating this masterpiece. Hope I can do your art justice.
Ok, let me set the scene. Euphoria, SKINS, and Degrassi procreated in the basement of Kappa Alpha. Keg to the right. A designer tray of substances to the left. The boys in the middle. And you…you crack the whi— what? Who said that?
CW: Frat AU, implied substance use, mature 18+, MDNI
‘Ain’t a pill that I didn’t take’
Lyrics that feel too familiar tread water between Suguru’s ears. They glide along his skin. Which feels like silk, by the way.
Silk.
Who ever made that is a Nobel laureate.
‘Cause Imma sleep when I R.I.P.’
Euphoria.
Who chose the lights?
They’re vivid. Swarming. Like the walls are a tile dance floor. Yeah. Light picker deserves a Nobel too.
“You are so fucked right now.” His best friend’s sharp ass voice dices his lucid thoughts to smithereens.
“Shut up, Satoru.” He’s not wrong.
“We took the same shit.” Suguru perches on the solo cup ridden kitchen island. Sitting is good.
“Plus, I’m bigger than you.”
“If you wanna compare dicks just say so.” Satoru sneers, he’s cockier when inebriated.
In any other instance when Suguru is of sound mind, Satoru would’ve caught a jab to the chest. But two reasons why that can’t happen.
One, he’s currently tripping balls.
Two, you just walked in.
Like you own the house.
Maneuvering your body around the active pong table. Slipping past the chatty women gawking in their direction. Gearing for attack. Shifty and nervous, but the vodka cranberry is courage elixir.
The boys have about 45 seconds to engage with said women or divert.
But you are currently leaning over the counter reaching for a shot glass well out of your zip code. A little red dress on. All curves, no brakes. With an ass that could make anyone believe in God.
Sorry, girls. Tonight, they are going to divert.
Suguru catches Satoru’s heady gaze. No words needed. They share instincts. The boys have been in stride since the day they met.
They saunter over to the counter you’re mounting. An easy reach for them both.
“Didn’t realize your name was on the lease, princess.”
Satoru plucks the double shot glass down from Mount Everest. Handing it over between two fingers.
Still propped up on the counter with one knee, you peer down at them both. Letting the white noise of utter disinhibition drape the space between you.
Suguru planned on softening Satoru’s blow, but then you smile.
Cavalier and gorgeous.
Like it’s a golden ticket into spaces you don’t belong in.
The answer to questions people don’t realize need asking.
The cure for everything.
And right now? It is. The cure.
Suguru stands stupefied as you brace yourself on his shoulders. Thank God his hands still know what to do. They snake around your tapered waist and pull you to solid ground.
Speak, dumbass.
“You didn’t? It’s in the fine print.” Your voice beats him to it. And is fucking dessert.
Bad for you. Horrible for you. But good in the way self-indulgence is.
You take your shot glass (really, anything in the house is yours if you want it). And steer away to the refrigerator.
Your absence jumpstarts Suguru’s out-of-commission brain.
“Excuse him, he was raised by monkeys. Can I help you find something?”
Suguru and Satoru reposition themselves behind you while you rummage. Bent over at the waist. Head nearly submerged in the pull out freezer.
Are you doing this on purpose?
Are you trying to be a cocktease?
Satoru isn’t even attempting to stop eye-fucking you.
Suguru pulls his tongue ring in and out of his teeth. Anything to stop ruminating on the melody of sounds that’ll fill the room when his hips slam into your ass repeatedly.
“There it is,” you stand back to your full height. Triumphant. Jack Daniels in hand.
Your eyes are pools of quicksand. Why else would Suguru’s mouth feel more stuck than his feet?
“You’re a whiskey, kind of girl?” Satoru smirks, amused at your vice choice.
Again, the boys follow your movements like two expertly trained German Shepards. Flanking you when you settle at the corner of the island. Meticulously over-pouring your first double shot.
“I’m a good time kind of girl.” The way your slender neck tilts back is immoral. Throating the dark liquid like water.
…what else can that throat handle?
“Okay, good time girl wh—“
“Listen.” You snip Satoru’s snide remark at its base. Leaving both of them silent. Watching. Waiting.
“Brad,” you pointedly look at Suguru.
“And Chad,” eyes dagger into Satoru.
“Thank you for the warm welcome but I’m not interested in talking.”
The back of your hand swipes against your full lips. And Suguru can’t seem to pull his eyes off of them.
Satoru, after a moment of stunned silence, lets out his laugh. The one that means you’ve won his undivided attention for the night.
“Close, but no cigar baby. Try again.” Satoru leans onto his forearms. Tilting his intoxicated gaze up at you.
“Right idea, though.” Suguru chimes in. Tongue finally deciding to work.
“Ahh, I hear you loud and clear.” You retort, golden-ticket smile back on your face.
Your nose wrinkles in feigned concentration and Suguru nearly passes out.
Are you really this hot? Or is he just that blasted?
“Preppy,” your hand cups Satoru’s face. And his Adam’s Apple bobs deeply.
Good, Satoru is feeling this as hard as he is.
“And Edgy.” Suguru gawks at the way your lips hang open after your snarky guess at his name leaves your mouth.
Satoru’s wolfish chuckle is what re-tethers Suguru to this dimension. How the fuck is he keeping up with you right now?
“No, no. I got it.” You pipe up.
Placing one hand over each of theirs. Suguru greedily intertwines his long fingers between your petite ones.
“Thunder.” You squeeze Suguru’s hand and his soul nearly leaks out of his dick.
“And Lightening.”
Cotton candy dusts Satoru’s nose to his ears when you look up at him. Suguru can see the vulgar scenarios on cinematic repeat in his best friend’s mind.
And it’s tame compared to the ways Suguru wants to disrespect you.
“We can work with that.” Suguru flashes a smile of his own. Purposefully keeping his tongue ring out of your view.
“And what can we call you?” Satoru probes. Zeroed in because no one else in the room exists.
Your hands return back to your side, and Suguru misses your warmth immediately.
“No name.”
Flippant. Lighthearted like what you said was normal.
“What was that?” Satoru spurts out. Saliva bubbling in his half open mouth.
You glide away from the kitchen. Into the den with bodies colliding. Walls thrumming. Lights strobing.
Delicate hands cup around your mouth. Turning back to face your new guard dogs.
“Not here to talk, boys!”
The three of you are interwined at the center of the crowded room in seconds.
But time is warped.
Because Suguru is traversing Death Zone altitude on the mountain. And Satoru is swimming at Abyssal Zone depth in the ocean.
You are the 8th cardinal sin.
You writhe and undulate your curves in and out of their grasp. Gripping onto Satoru’s neck, strumming his undercut when he’s facing you. Winding your hips against Suguru’s crotch when he’s behind you.
Suguru’s cock has never been this hard, he’s half worried it could snap in half. Hissing against your neck. Groaning behind your ear. So goddamn grateful for the music drowning out his desperation.
But his skin is on fire. He can feel every vessel pulsate.
You are not a want.
You are a need.
“Need you.” Suguru gruffs in your ear. Flickering up to Satoru, who is mirroring his hooded gaze.
Suguru watches your pretty hand trail down Satoru’s chest. Satoru rolls his bottom lip under his teeth. Apt nickname you chose for him, because there are lightening bolts in his eyes.
“Take me upstairs,” you whisper back, tilting up to capture Suguru in your web.
And he is so captured. So entangled.
The boys lead you to Suguru’s bedroom in the frat house. Even though the walk felt like miles, exactly no time passes when you three close the door behind you.
Suguru’s lips magnet to yours. Insatiable in the way he sucks and pulls on your lips. Tongue tasting every corner of your sweet mouth.
Satoru drops his head to the crook of your neck. Sucking bruises. Tracing his large grasp up and underneath your dress. No time or room for manners with how his cock is tenting against its weak restraints.
“So eager, boys.” You giggle in between their hungry kisses.
And you’re right.
It’s embarrassing, their display right now.
But neither one of them have the capacity to stop.
And hold it together.
And lead. Like they both are used to.
“Sorry,” Satoru grunts into the feminine slope of your neck. You let out an airy laugh when he starts to dry hump you. Tickling both of their incapable brains.
You know Satoru is so far gone.
And Suguru is trying to hold on to some semblance of dignity but his cock simply won’t let him. Not the way it’s drenching his sweats with need.
“Take these off.” Melodic instructions fill Satoru and Suguru’s ears the minute you pull away from Suguru’s kiss. Your index finger hooked on both hems.
As if your voice is a Pavlovian trigger, the boys step out of their pants and boxers.
Rock hard. Desperate. Leaking.
Your personal drones.
Suguru can’t swallow the whimper that collides with Satoru’s whine when your hands drop to stroke both of them at the same time. Flickering your eyes between your two toys. Proud of the way their cocks are twitching and pumping beads of precum into your hands.
“God, pretty girl.”
“Fuck, princess.”
Satoru and Suguru are dizzy with heat.
Just in time for you to drop to your knees. Dragging your closed, lipsticked lips along Suguru’s up curve.
“Please,” Suguru whispers.
You’re evil.
And you ignore him. Dragging your soft, warm hand up the length of his shaft. Interjecting butterfly kisses in between. Working Satoru’s length in your other hand.
Drawing punched out moans from the boys. Chests heaving. Clipped breaths. Pitiful.
“On your knees, Lightning.” You beckon Satoru, while teasing his counterpart.
Satoru doesn’t hesitate for a second. He couldn’t if he wanted to. Propped on his knees, he stares into the side of your face. Awaiting further instruction.
“Kiss me,” you demand, circling your lips around Suguru’s sensitive tip for the first time. Evoking a loud hiss.
Satoru’s eyes widen. Your words startle the breath out of him.
The lights are dim but Suguru doesn’t miss the blossoming cherry red flush. Spreading along his toned shoulders.
Your wet lips dragging along his swollen cockhead pulls Suguru’s eyes away from his celestial best friend.
“Mmmgh f..fuck baby,” Suguru chokes out at your slow, mean ministrations.
“Don’t be shy, Lightening.” Your tongue tickles his lead pipe with every spoken word around his girth.
Suguru’s eyes fall to your hand. Now working its way up Satoru’s length. His core involuntarily curls into your sudden touch. Gossamer thin whine tumbling out of his lips. Suguru catches the way Satoru digs his fingernails into his milky skin.
And his cock twitches against your lips at the sight.
“Kiss me,” You beckon Satoru again, dragging your tongue up Suguru’s length.
“I—I…“ Satoru stammers. Hips stuttering against your fist. Static fills Suguru’s head.
He’s never seen him this docile. This pliant. It’s a mind fuck.
No, no.
The way Satoru pulls his eyes up to meet his gaze in that moment is a mind fuck.
Is he hallucinating?
It’s like Suguru is seeing Satoru for the first time.
Instead of being side by side, he’s across the street. Catching a glimpse of a God. Walking amongst men.
Satoru’s expression has earned permanence in his brain. Snowy halo of hair. Long, palatial lashes fanning the Aegean Sea in his eyes. A mosaic of lust, desire, a little shame.
Seeking permission.
Seeking approval.
He is otherworldly.
Vulnerable and soft. On his knees. Needy. It makes Suguru want to ram his cock past those pouty, swollen lips.
But..but that’s wrong. Right?
They’re best friends. Fucking soulmates. They don’t..they don’t do that.
But the way he’s pouting.
God.
Glassy eyed and helplessly turned on. Rutting his hips into your hand.
Fuck.
“Fuck,” Suguru mutters. A surge of his arousal landing on your tongue. Eliciting a breathy giggle in response.
Followed by an out of body experience for the next few minutes.
Suguru’s hand wires into Satoru’s cloud soft locks. Gentle grasp between the slender webspaces.
“So pretty.” He rasps through the nails in his throat.
Satoru’s pupils blow out at the praise. All but purring into his touch. Suguru barely applies any force and Satoru crashes his lips onto yours with Suguru’s thick head in between.
Filthy.
Nasty dirty vulgar sounds fill the room. Suguru’s constant stream of precum dripping onto your tongue, Satoru’s tongue. Raining down on your puffy, full tits.
You two exploring each other’s lips.
Satoru’s angry length, squelching against your hand.
It’s too much. It’s too fucking much.
“Such a good boy.”
Your dulcet voice is a tornado decimating Suguru’s brain. He has to blink a few times to realize that the praise wasn’t meant for him.
It was directed at Satoru.
Who is desperately — eagerly — throating Suguru’s dick. Nose flaring. Diamond tears rolling down his blushing cheeks. Unintelligible garbles dribbling out the corners of his mouth.
“Sa—Satoru, mmgh, god shit, shit.” Suguru’s hips take a cruel pace down his Person’s throat.
“Mmm, Satoru.” You murmur into his ear. Tasting your new discovery.
“Look how much Thunder likes fucking that mouth of yours.”
Satoru’s tears splash against Suguru’s sex. But he opens his throat anyway. Swallowing his rod. Filthy bulge in the column of his throat.
“Ahh, god..baby..” Suguru huffs when your devilish little hands tug at a palm full of his hair.
When did you get next to him?
Doesn’t matter.
Yet another natural disaster destroys Suguru’s brain when you push your tongue back into his mouth. While he violates Satoru’s mouth.
The wire in Suguru’s stomach coils. Lava surges through every vessel in his body. Groin welling with a deep, carnal pressure. Everything feels too fucking good.
“Fuck, oh god fuck. I’m I—g—“
“Cum for me, baby.”
You kiss your hushed command into Suguru’s mouth. His hips come to a screeching halt. Both hands down in Satoru’s hair, grazing along his undercut.
Suguru tilts his chin to the ceiling. Thick loose mane tickling his mid back. Vision completely dark. He has no idea if he’s still in Satoru’s mouth. Or where his cum is landing. All he knows is death by pleasure right now.
You press your moist lips into Suguru’s neck.
“You’re so beautiful like this.” Sweet words reverberate against Suguru’s skin.
His head slowly comes back to earth. And just as his eyes pull back open — a shudder and blinding light assaults his vision. Up close.
“Woah, what the hell?”
Suguru is met with a Polaroid camera. Printing evidence of his nirvana. His brows crawl together defensively.
“What do you—“
“Relax, thunder.” You coo with that smile that’s decadent, beautiful poison.
You step over a dazed Satoru. Still on his knees. Lazily stroking up his neglected hard cock.
Suguru’s eyes track you to his bed. You place the developing film on the nightstand.
“These are for your eyes only.”
“I don’t mind.” Satoru huffs. Rising to his feet. Deep within your trance. You could’ve asked him to cut off an arm and he’d offer you both.
Satoru would follow you into Hell if you demanded it.
Suguru would too.
“Boys, come.” You curl your finger at them. And pairs of feet move.
“Thunder, why don’t you put that tongue ring to good use. While I take care of pretty little Satoru.”
His name on your lips snaps something buried in his soul. Satoru steps to the head of the bed. Leaning against the wall. Cock heavy with his seed. A string of arousal hanging low from his tip.
You make a dramatic show to catch Satoru’s leaking string of cum before it wastes on Suguru’s sheets.
“You’re fucking filthy, princess.” Satoru hisses. He can’t remember the last time he’s blinked the whole night.
You smile around his bulbous tip, then pull him into your warm heat in one go.
And fuck, Satoru can feel you sucking through to his throat.
His whimpers sound so pathetic in his ears. But he is so lust-drunk he couldn’t care less.
One look down and he sees his best friend whining underneath your precious cunt. As you circle your hips around Suguru’s metal-clad tongue. Taking your pleasure directly from his mouth.
Suguru’s half hard sex pulsates against his perfectly toned abs. Satoru has to look away. His orgasm threatening to come too soon.
“Mmmnggh, so good with your tongue, Thunder.” You gurgle around Satoru’s length.
Arousal flavored saliva driveling down your chin. The sensation drives Satoru to piston his hips until his tip abuses the limit of your dainty throat.
You shouldn’t have any space to breathe, much less talk.
“Pl-please. Suguru. Name’s Suguru.”
“Say his name baby.” Satoru’s order is low. Raptorial. Hips bucking wildly into your mouth. Heat crashing into his groin.
He’s so close. He’s—
“S-Suguru.”
And Satoru dives off your cliff edge. Hearing his Person’s name tumble out of your mouth and around his cock snapped his self-control in half.
Ropes off thick, warm heat spill out the side of your mouth. Staining your bunched up dress, the sheets and everything in between.
“S-so close,” you huff, humping Suguru’s tongue more aggressively.
A familiar camera shudder and solar bright light fans your outstretched neck. Capturing your cum-stained ascension.
You flash Satoru a knowing smirk. Another beam of light aimed in his face before he tosses your camera off to the side.
Satoru crashes his lips into yours. Eager to taste himself off your mouth.
Your bodies move in perfect tandem. Satoru kisses your peak from your lips while Suguru coaxes your wet orgasm onto his tongue. Your high drenches Suguru and the sheets around him.
The three of you piece yourselves together. Completely plaited within each other’s warm, moist limbs. Basking in the serotonin showers misting you three in post-coital bliss.
No one remembers, but you wish each other sweet dreams before the fog settles. And the night re-claims you to sleep.
——
Sunlight is downright offensive.
Suguru forces his heavy lids open.
7: 43 AM
Fucking, hell.
A freight train is currently doing laps in Suguru’s mind. He flickers around the room. Haphazard clothes. Strewn socks. Satoru in Suguru’s 06 hockey jersey. Long limbs nearly dangling off the other side of his bed.
Suguru glances down, somehow dressed only in Satoru’s black sweats
There’s a tiny sliver of space between their sodden bodies. Where you must’ve slept.
Right.
You.
Heaven’s fallen angel.
You used to be God’s favorite. No way you still are.
Not with how fucking sinful you looked in that red dress.
Snapping polaroids.
Taking their souls for play.
Then having the audacity to leave them on the nightstand when you were through.
Suguru met The Devil last night.
And she was…exquisite.
“Fuck, my head.” Satoru groans, rolling over to face his dark-haired soulmate.
Suguru watches his eyes flutter open. And something within him catches.
How has he not noticed how beautiful this boy is before?
“Here,” A glass of ice water, still sweating from condensation is waiting on Suguru’s nightstand. He takes a long sip before passing the lifeblood to Satoru.
Satoru briefly meets Suguru’s gaze. Before averting, pretty mulberry blush flooding his face.
“Was last night…real?” Satoru asks after an extended sip.
Suguru meets his question with silence. Preoccupied with picture proof.
Three polaroids neatly arranged on the nightstand.
The first one is of Suguru. Hair moused, framing his intoxicated gaze. Remnants of his orgasm oozing from the still shot. Lips puffy and abused. Cheeks flushed. Suguru can barely recognize the man in the photo.
His eyes dance to the cursive label at the bottom:
Thunder
Alias: “Suguru”
A wry chuckle escapes his lips. He passes his photo to Satoru.
The next polaroid is of his Person. Post orgasm haze heavy in his eyes. He managed to get his 10,000-kilowatt smile perfectly in the selfie. Also flushed. Also completely debauched. The blue in his eyes reflected nearly translucent.
He’s a fucking masterpiece, that boy.
Suguru knows what to expect at the bottom of Satoru’s polaroid:
Lightening
Alias: “Satoru”
“Shit man, these are amazing.” Satoru murmurs, intently studying Suguru’s polaroid. Absentmindedly accepting his.
“They are.” Suguru agrees, unknowingly holding his breath while pulling your polaroid into view.
And of course.
It’s blurry.
The only thing in focus is your graceful, arched neck, specks of Satoru’s finish glistening on your skin. Merlot red dress, pulled far below your breasts. Only thing pictured is the apex of your cleavage. Leaving Suguru’s mind to spiral into lucid memory of the rest of your silhouette.
“Who…was that?” Satoru muses. Eyes now on the ceiling. Undoubtedly having the exact same swarm of flashbacks flood his mind.
Suguru rolls your Polaroid between his index and long finger. The bottom of the photo reading:
No Name
A lazy smile tugs on the corner of his lips.
You are something else.
Supernatural, almost.
“She’s a girl with no name.”
#jjk smut#stsg#stsg fic#jjk stsg#stsg x reader#stsg smut#satosugu x reader#satosugu#gojo x reader x geto#suguru geto smut#gojo smut#satoru gojo smut#jjk satoru#gojo satoru x reader#suguru smut#jjk suguru#satoru smut#satoru x suguru#gojo x reader#geto smut#poly satosugu#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk imagines#jjk fluff#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#satoru gojo x reader
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monkey d luffy headcanons
* nsfw
minors dni | afab reader x luffy
- let’s just start off bold and beautiful here, this boy fucks. his stamina is so incredibly high that if you can wrangle him down on a late night? you’re done for.
- on the deck after everyone’s asleep while he’s on watch duty?? HELLO
“cmon princess, don’t be so loud, you don’t wanna be caught right?” he says as he’s literally murdering your pussy on one of the chairs robin usually spends her afternoons reading on
- he WILL fall asleep with his cock inside of you, he’s done it so many times and you just lay there against him, a little frustrated until you fall asleep too
- although he is goofy, he’s less silly and more teasing when in bed with you. although sometimes his hard demeanor slips and he’s falling on top of you, the two of you giggling
- the entire time yall had been separated (during the timeskip), not once did he find pleasure in another woman, just his fist. that night the entirety of the straw hats knew to leave yall both alone
“fuck princess.. fuck yess fuck…” he cursed, whining loudly as his cock pushed into your tight , wet pussy. he whined and whimpered until he was fully inside, almost cumming instantly.
- luffy doesn’t usually whine and moan but when he is needy BOYY is he loud.
- there’s no sub or dom in the relationship just vibes. no but seriously, the two of you are so switch or vanilla or FREAKY that you just work. he can match your energy almost instantly if he isn’t too needy himself
- pet name princess because what’s a king without his…
“luffy, it’s a king and a queen, not a king and a princess” you bark at him. “no it’s not, princess” he giggles
- zoro joins in once n a while. gotta share with the homies yknow.
- in all reality luffy loves watching him fuck you, usually watching him while luffy fucks your throat.
- luffy LOVES cumming inside, he loves when you tell him to breed you, he loves watching his cum drip out of you and he loves the way his balls slap against your skin as he fucks you.
- tldr: luffy is a freak in bed and will fuck you like he actually has nothing else to live for, thank you
authors note: requests are open
#monkey d. luffy#one piece luffy#monkey d. luffy x reader#monkey d. luffy smut#luffy smut#one piece smut#one piece oneshots#one piece imagine#monkey d luffy imagine#mavnagerie’s fic#mavnags
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What I think the Monster Trio’s Dick Look Like(NSFW)
Ft. Zoro, Luffy, Sanji
A/N: I’m a pervert…I’m bored…and I may end up drawing this so…yeah. Also this isn’t TOO descriptive considering idk how tf to describe a man’s tallywackle.
Luffy
About 4-5 inches on soft and hard. He can stretch it out so have fun with that.
He has one small vein you don’t really see or feel unless he is hard or about to cum
Pretty lightly brown and pink tip, doesn’t curve, his family jewels aren’t huge but they’re not that small either you can like pop em in your mouth ig
No pubic hair: he just doesn’t grow any down there
He cums A LOT (not as much as Sanji) and if semen And Dick has specific tastes depending on a man’s diet then they both taste terrible because of his terrible diet
Twitches uncontrollably when you blow on it
It gets friggin huge when he is using Gear 2-4
When he is in Gear 5 it naturally grows 3 inches and it’s thicker with his vein protruding out more
Zoro
Absolutely the most thickest out of the three, could compare the thickness to a banana
Pretty tan with a brown tip and pink/red undertone. Blushes a lot when he’s hard
He’s a grower not a shower; 4 inches soft, 7.2 hard.
Curved slightly to the right 2 large veins under and on top of his shaft
Hairy ass monkey down there—his happy trail is absolutely dark green with a hint of black btw
Hefty ass balls I mean what the hell man
Reminds me of a damn bull
When it does twitch you barely notice it
Just like Luffy his Dick and semen would probably not taste that great. You know how some guys say women that they’ve eaten out taste like pennies? Well yeah he’d taste like a very faint metal of some kind so hold your breath ladies
Cums like a damn river and if you don’t start breathing through your nose you will choke
His Dick print shows a lot when he wears pants so he man spreads most of the time
Will throw hands if you say his Dick is his 4th sword worth it
Sanji
Yeah let’s pretend my user name doesn’t exists and I’m totally not being biased right now.
Pretty dick it’s so pretty
He is the longest out of the three, 7.4 all around, but very skinny. He has one large vein up the side of his cock up to the tip
Speaking of tip I want his so bad
His tip is of course a pretty pink, is naturally blushed idk if that’s a thing but let’s roll with it
Alsways fucking semi hard because he is a horny bastard
Can hide it very well in his slacks usually takes him a few minutes though
His happy trail/pubic hair is so pretty, nicely trimmed for the ladies he can’t seduce and the same color of his beard.
Taste like nothing? Like skin like lick the back of your palm and that’s what it taste like.
Oh wait he smokes like a train
Okay it’s still not the best taste but it’s better than Zoro’s and Luffy’s
I heard semen can be really watery so I’m giving him that HC. Because look at him.
Once he cums he literally can’t stop it’s like him bleeding through his nose but his nose is his Dick and the blood is semen so…have fun with the mess
I Petition Oda to give this man some 🐱 before the series end tysm.
#one piece smut#TimikosMonsterTrio#one piece headcanons#black reader#one piece#sanji#sanjionepiece#sanji imagine#one piece x female reader#sanji smut#sanji x black reader#sanji x reader#female reader#one piece x black!reader#black foot sanji#x female reader#zoro headcanons#luffy smut#one piece scenario#zoro hcs#luffy#luffy headcanons#sanji headcanons#monster trio
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got thinking about my monkeys paw edlacy au where they become successful professionals in new york (eddie, the founder of necromancer records; lacy, a fran lebowitz-type social commentator and sometimes new yorker columnist) but call off their engagement and end up acting like bitter divorcees (hate fucking and jealousy lmao)
and ended up banging this out idk
pairing: eddie munson x f!oc, written in second person immersive (you/yours)
wc: actually cba to check. it’s short
warnings: p in v, unprotected, office sex, hate fucking sort of, spit kink (m receiving)
eddie has your legs butterflied on a desk you’d wasted no time in insulting the second you walked through the door.
‘where’d you find this? a beer hall? this looks like it has about as much structural integrity as that piece of shit driftwood throne you used to sit on in high school—‘
but he’d swallowed your words with a hurried, ‘pipe down and open up, doevski,’ insisting on his tongue down your throat. a rendezvous like this (that shouldn’t be happening—you’d given the ring back, why are they still happening) require an awareness of his peripherals, so out of the corner of his eye, he can see where you’d neatly hung your skirt over the arm of his office sofa. it’s custom YSL, gifted from the last mucky magazine to-do you’d done, and it was too good to let him tear it off you. your panties were a different story, the shredded remnants of them now rucked up around your waist.
“why don’t you ever come by anymore?” eddie asks between breathless thrusts, mesmerised by your tits bouncing out of your unbuttoned blouse. god, he loves you like this. smart-rail me-casual. he should have asked you to bring a ruler to spank him with, but you would’ve liked that too much and he can’t acquiesce to you completely.
what with you being exes.
“i don’t come,” you gasp, entertaining his bullshit line of thinking, “by anymore because this is hostile territory. one of your little record company groupies called me a prep cunt the last time i was here. and she spat on me.”
a guttural sound gets coaxed out of eddie, and the flash of offense across your face is just too good. the thought of you getting verbally assaulted by some necromancer records acolyte isn’t a jolt to the balls (his fans are rabid and learned and hate you, vocally)—thinking of how angry that must’ve made you is. your cunt reflexively tightens around him and his jaw tightens back.
“if the stupid red bottom shoe fits—“
“—yes, but i could live without the spitting, eddie—“
“fuck, don’t say my name. yet.”
it’d be punishment if he didn’t live to have you choking him out like this.
“hol—hold on, this you sayin’ you’re not into spitting anymore?” he grits out, throbbing like a fucking injury inside of you. eddie’s hoping he leaves handprints where those flimsy webbed panties used to sit on your hips.
a blowback of a laugh leaves your mouth, and eddie wants to shove it back in with his tongue, but you grab the back of his head. “that you saying please?”
you tug; he tilts. he whines before he can stop it. god, he hates you—god, he needs this before he’s got to spend the rest of the day listening to shitty demo tapes.
“please,” he breathes.
you grin like the viper you are—so he promises himself to fuck you so hard that you’ll feel it from the time you struggle to walk out of his office to the time you sit on letterman’s guest chair later. social commentator. cultural critic. know-it-all bitch. love of his life.
“please, lace.” his poor, ragged mouth—the way you grab at his chin almost looks sympathetic, how raptured you are by his desperation. you can’t deny it, he knows that. he appeals to your fragile ego, you box his boisterous one down…
and say things like, “open wide, eddie.”
#eddie munson x oc#eddie munson x reader#e. munson by powder#l. doevski by powder#edlacy#I don’t have a tag for this au but it might be my absolute sick freak fantasy where lacy becomes a rhony#anyway#just dickin around on here
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Ride the Cyclone Kids and Overwatch
me and my bestie @cypherbyte played Overwatch 2 together yesterday, and it got me thinking!
(i know teams are made up of five now, but shhhhhh)
Ocean mains Tracer
Noel mains nobody because he’s Not Good, so he constantly fluctuates between Heroes
Mischa mains Winston
Ricky mains Wrecking Ball
Penny mains Sombra
Constance mains Zenyatta and Orisa
Now skins!!
Ocean uses Rose
Noel doesn’t have any skins, fuckin loser (it’s me, i’m Noel) (in my defense, though, i had to make a whole new account, so i don’t have anything yet)
Mischa uses Yeti
Ricky uses Submarine
Penny uses Scuba
Constance uses Cultist for Zenyatta and Forest Spirit for Orisa
Noel is the worst player
Brother can’t shoot for shit
So he kinda just runs around aimlessly
He is their distraction 😌
After awhile, he’ll just default to Bastion during a match
He’s the Bastion that will sit right at the front of the respawn point in the turret mode and just shoot as people come out
Or he’ll sit in turret mode on the payload
He WANTED to main Windowmaker (just because she’s French), but, again, he is a TERRIBLE shot, so playing a sniper wouldn’t really work
Penny and Mischa are tied for best player, per usual when playing video games
Penny will run around and hack the other team, targeting usually the tanks, being an absolute menace
She likes to bully people into switching characters entirely
And then Mischa goes in and kicks ASS
Meanwhile, Ocean is blinking around wildly, trying her best to hit people, but her aim is HORRENDOUS
Constance is just trying to keep her team healed and alive
And then Ricky is rolling around
Mischa will fight with people over voice comms but also yells at the people who are misogynistic
He moans into the mic when people accuse him of being a white knight
Constance, as Mischa moans over the mic like he’s getting the greatest head ever at approximately 150 dB: this is the support from men we want
Tracer said “blimey” during a game, and Ocean’s dumbass thought she said “blindly” and was like “is that some British phrase or something??”
The others had to correct her
(based on me last night 😌)
Ocean: THE SUBTITLE LOOKED LIKE IT SAID “BLINDLY” OKAY
Noel: STUPID ASS
Ocean is only slightly better than Noel, but that doesn’t mean she’s good
She’ll call out that D.Va is using her ult and then try to escape the area, but she blinks into a lamppost and gets stuck, so she dies
This happens So Many Times
She’s CONSTANTLY getting caught on things while trying to blink
Penny, about a certain map: oh, i’m really good at this one as Sombra!!
Their team: *loses the game*
Ricky: you lied
Ocean has one (1) emote for Tracer, and that’s the sitting emote
When she’s on the payload, she’ll just sit on it (as if she’s not in the middle of a WAR)
Constance: guys, watch out, there’s turrets set up around the checkpoint!
Her whole team, walking directly into the turrets: what
The gang once heard this shrill screech and then turned to watch Noel, who was attempting to play Lucio, launch himself directly off the map
This happens a lot with him
Ocean: *walking around*
Ocean: *stumbles upon three tanks*
Ocean: *turns around and flees because she’s a tiny Tracer and isn’t about to deal with that shit alone*
They all HATE the map Midtown because they got royally fucked when they tried to play a match there
The other team was always right up in their ass the MOMENT they got out of the respawn point
They got nowhere near the checkpoint 😭
Noel: where’s the checkpoint at??
Noel: oh my god, it’s all the way over there
Noel: we’re not even CLOSE
Ocean doesn’t know character names, aside from everyone’s mains, so she makes up her own
Torbjorn? No, that’s “little man”
Sigma? Nope, that’s “peepaw”
Mercy = “pretty lady”
Pharah = “Pharmacy” (because it’s close enough for her)
Junkrat = “ugly dude”
Roadhog = “big man”
If you hear her fearfully cry, “MONKEY! MONKEY!” then she’s probably about to get her ass beat by a Winston
One time she screamed “HELP, FISTY MAN IS AFTER ME, HE’S GONNA FIST ME”
She was talking about Doomfist
Ocean and Penny: *playing around as Tracer and Sombra before a match*
Ocean: *crouching in front of Penny, who has the Scuba skin equipped, and makes Tracer say hi*
Penny: DID YOU JUST SAY HELLO TO MY ABS
#you can probably tell who my main is lol#and yes i am Not Good at the game#ride the cyclone headcanons#rtc headcanons#rtc#ride the cyclone#ocean o’connell rosenberg#noel gruber#mischa bachinski#ricky potts#constance blackwood#penny lamb#jane doe
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Phan In America (2) Masterlist
part one
Aftersun (ao3) - cafephan
Summary: The (sunburnt) aftermath of Dan and Phil’s hike in Denver.
A Sunshine State (Of Mind) (ao3) - dizzy
Summary: Five days in the Florida sun, feat. one bemused mother and the potential death of Dan Howell. (Which is nowhere near as dramatic as it sounds, unless you actually ask Dan.)
Audacity (ao3) - corgisocks
Summary: Dan and Phil in Denver, Colorado, being dorks (as always).
Between (ao3) - benotafraidofwriting
Summary: Dan and Phil are currently touring America by car. One night, they run into a problem in their motel room: there's only one bed.
Cheers (ao3) - ahappyphil
Summary: Phil and Zoe have a tipsy chat in America. Phil says a bit too much
Feel the Heat (ao3) - cockwhoredan
Summary: Two British boys can’t handle the weather in Florida. (maybe fucking isn’t the best way to cool down, but they do it anyways.)
Giving Everything We Have (ao3) - parentaladvisorybullshitcontent
Summary: "We have a bus," Phil says.
Dan grins at him.
"Nerd," He says, fondly.
In which they have a tour bus for the US leg of TATINOF and Dan has a space in his bunk with Phil's name on it
It’s Only The Beginning (ao3) - pasteldanhowells
Summary: Dan and Phil are currently on tour in America. They’re just getting to LA, unfortunately they’ve been stopped before they can even get to their hotel due to traffic. Phil think it’s about the virus going around, Dan doesn’t believe it.
just dive right in (and follow my lead) - phanetixs
Summary: In which they stop at Niagara Falls for the day.
Just Under the Surface (ao3) - drivinglester
Summary: Dan and Phil enjoy their day off in Chicago.
make me want to stay (ao3) - fanpurple
Summary: Dan and Phil are on a hiking trip in America.
New Year’s Eve (ao3) - phanburnhamizzard
Summary: New Year’s Eve is a time of reflection for Dan and Phil, who sneak out of their hotel to watch the ball drop in Time’s Square in New York City.
Phil's Stuffed Monkey (ao3) - starringhowell
Summary: Dan and Phil go to Chicago for their tour and end up spending a day at the nearby Six Flags. Dan wins Phil a huge monkey at one of the arcade games, but when some girls compliment Phil, Dan gets a bit jealous...
Road Trip (ao3) - danteasers
Summary: Dan and Phil go on a road trip in America where they massively fail at doing stuff.
Running Now (I Close My Eyes) - daniactuallysnuffledthatpopcorn
Summary: Bad days don’t care where you are or what you’re doing. This time, Dan is hit by one on a trip to Florida with the in-laws. Fortunately, Phil is always right there with him.
shake the glitter off your clothes (ao3) - dizzy
Summary: Phil takes Dan to Vegas to celebrate his 21st birthday.
The Engagement (ao3) - tahliaisnotonfire
Summary: Tonight is Dan and Phil's last TATINOF show in America. Phil has quite the proposal planned and Dan has no idea.
Waking Up In Vegas (ff.net) - lampidyhats
Summary: Dan, Phil, Chris, and PJ wake up in Vegas with a camera thats loaded with videos from their recent black out. Includes Phan and some kickthestickz fluff.
Work That Rock (ao3) - adorkablephil (kimberly_a)
Summary: Phil has more confidence now, but sometimes he still feels awkward
You Make Me Happy (ao3) - melapplesphan
Summary: After a night of pizza and beer on a New York City rooftop, Phil falls asleep in his chair. Dan tries to put his sleepy boyfriend to bed, but they had plans to put their hotel room to good use that evening, and Phil's upset that they have to cancel them. Dan comforts him. Takes place the night of the New Jersey show. Contains an abundance of pet names, soft boys, comforting touches, and enough tenderness to melt the coldest of hearts.
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somebody comes and hits you with an ooh la la la, ooh la la la, ooh la la la, ooh
Marvel || Wade Wilson/Peter Parker || Part 4
notes: Title from 'Mad Sounds' by Arctic Monkeys. Many thanks to babygato for her beta on this chapter.
this fic is also available on ao3
warnings: none
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← previous: Part 3
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The bagel shop is three blocks east and one block south of Wade's apartment. It doesn't have a name; there is simply the word 'BAGELS' in huge block letters on the front window, the paint old and flaking. There are no hours posted on the door, just an askew white-and-blue sign that can be flipped to declare 'OPEN' or 'CLOSED'. When Wade steps inside, a few bells on a rope clatter against the glass, signaling his entrance. A bored teenager with an acid green crop of hair glances briefly up from their phone, while the old man behind the counter greets in Polish,
"Wade, you ugly son of a bitch! Welcome once more to my shop! It is lovely, simply fucking lovely, to see you on this fine Wednesday morning. What can I get for you? On the house, of course, for once saving my shit terrible cat when he climbed the telephone pole and refused to come the fuck down!"
Or at least, that's what Wade interprets it as. His Polish was never good; he spent a grand total of four days in Gdańsk while he was special forces, and all he learned was how to swear, order alcohol, and ask someone if they knew where the library was.
"Mikolaj!" Wade returns warmly in English, spreading his arms wide. "It's good to see you too, buddy! How's the Grzegorz? Still scratching innocent men in the jugular?"
Mikolaj says something that is decidedly not directions to the public library and lobs a bagel at Wade's head with scary accuracy and speed. Wade catches it before it makes contact with his face and—wasting neither second nor glance—he takes a huge bite. He groans, a borderline pornographic sound, as he registers the combination of flavor and texture. Mikolaj truly makes the best bagels in all of Queens, from the vaguely crispy exterior to the wonderfully chewy interior.
"I'm gonna need an assorted dozen of your delightful creations, Miko my man," Wade says around a large mouthful of mushed up bagel. "And like, two tubs of cream cheese. Got a cute boy at home, you know? Gotta let him know I can provide."
Wade winks. Mikolaj continues to talk in rapid Polish, his round face becoming steadily more red, even as he grabs a large waxed bakery bag and randomly grabs bagels from the wire baskets behind the counter. Wade mentally translates:
"A cute fucking boy at home? How wonderful for you, Wade! I was a young man once, and fucked my way through most of Eastern Europe, before meeting the love of my life and settling the fuck down. Oh, what wonderful times! I hope you too can meet the one who makes your cock the most happy. Fucking fuck shit fuck damn bitch!"
... Or something similar. As mentioned, Wade really only knows the naughty words.
By the register, Mikolaj slams the bag and a couple tubs of cream cheese down on the white formica counter. Then he leans over, pointing one of his big, fat fingers at Wade, the blunt tip less than an inch away from Wade's nose, and growls something that makes his enormous mustache quiver.
"Dziadek says he doesn't want you to come back," Orel drones, barely looking up from their Twitter feed as they translate. "He says it upsets Grzegorz."
"Pretty sure he said that if I come back he would chop my balls off with a rusty spoon. Which, like, joke's on him, testicular cancer already took one so he'd have about half the satisfaction."
"I didn't need to know that," Orel says drolly.
Wade fishes his wallet out from the back pocket of his jeans and takes out one of the crumpled twenties. He extends the cash to Orel, but Mikolaj slaps Wade's wrist sharply before he starts yelling again, meaty arms thrown heavenwards as he thunders.
Orel faithfully translates, "Dziadek also says your money isn't good here."
"Not to like, question your fluency or anything, but I distinctly heard the phrase 'dirty fucking money'."
"Paraphrasing." Still on their phone, Orel shrugs. "I'm not allowed to swear while I'm working."
"You poor sweet child," Wade sympathizes, taking another twenty out of his wallet and shoving both into the tip jar. "Please take this humble offering as compensation. And another tip, though non-monetary: unionize. Demand better work conditions. Do you even get paid vacations or sick leave?"
"It's a family business, Wade."
"Tough luck." Wade clicks his tongue and grabs his items off the counter. Then, "Same time next week, Miko?"
Mikolaj, who has wandered back over to the wire baskets, grabs another bagel and chucks it. This one is rosemary and sun-dried tomato, a favorite of Wade's, and—as he is currently holding a dozen bagels in one hand and two tubs of cream cheese in the other—he jumps and catches the edible projectile with his teeth so it doesn't smack him directly between the eyes. Successful, he steps back and gives Mikolaj and his grandkid a jaunty, wordless bow-and-salute combo. Orel golf-claps around their phone but Mikolaj's swearing becomes more prominent, so Wade beats a strategic retreat.
Outside, the cold, early spring air nips at Wade's face and ears. No one pays much attention to him, as they scurry down the sidewalk, and he chews happily on his bagel as he meanders down the block. Then, halfway between Mikolaj's bagel shop and his apartment, Wade steps out from the ever-present flow of pedestrians and turns into one of the less smelly alleyways. There aren't any big dumpsters to duck behind, but there is a recessed back entrance halfway down. Wade stops there and leans against the steel door. It doesn't hide him, not completely, but he doesn't need invisibility, just a little privacy. Quickly, Wade assesses his surroundings and—when he finds that all windows are closed against the unseasonal chill—he moves his acquired breakfast into one arm so he can dig his phone out of his jacket pocket.
One passcode and two taps later, and the phone is ringing gently in Wade's ear.
And ringing.
And ringing.
Wade has to call three times before Weasel finally picks up.
"This had better be fucking good, Wade," Weasel snaps in lieu of a hello. His normally nasally voice is sleep rough and agitated. "Do you even fucking know what time it is?"
"Ten thirty-seven," Wade supplies helpfully.
"Ten too-fucking-early, dickhat," Weasel corrects. Over the line, Wade can hear the shuffle of fabric as Weasel moves around in his bed. "What part of 'I run a bar that caters to a specific clientele' makes you think I want to be woken up before midday? And—shut the fuck up—"
Wade's mouth clicks shut.
"—that is a rhetorical question, because the answer is I do not want to be woken up until the clock is once again single digit post meridiem."
This time, Wade cannot physically stop himself from saying, "It's not a rhetorical question if you have an answer."
"What I'm saying is I don't want an answer from you," Weasel snaps. "Just tell me what you did so I can fix it and get the fuck back to sleep. Some of us have real jobs with real obligations that require real sleep schedules."
Wade bites down on a retort about beauty sleep and ugly faces. Not because he cares overmuch about Weasel's feelings—his friendship with Weasel has been built on a bedrock of mutual ribbing—but because he actually needs Weasel to do something for him, and insulting him tends to make him contrary.
"Well," Wade begins. "I am delighted to let you know that I am neither in jail nor am I being held up in a safe house like Davy Crockett during the siege of the Alamo—"
"Oh my god, please tell me you're not trapped in a shipping container again," Weasel all but groans.
"I am not and I'll thank you not to remind me of my terrible experience with the Russian mob. God, those guys are dicks." Wade knows that he's lucky to be alive after botching that particular job but a) he's proven to be strangely unkillable over the years, and b) he's never been one to dwell on past experiences. Learn from them, yes, but mull over? Wade reserves his angsting hours for more personal matters, like why he never got a chance to meet Bea Arthur or why he's apparently unlovable. "No, it's weirder. Someone broke into my apartment last night."
"And what, you need help with the body?" Weasel snorts. "Yeah, tell me another."
"He's alive," Wade clarifies. "It was an accidental break-in. I fired a few rounds at him, he dodged, then I made him pancakes."
Weasel sounds pained as he says, "Please tell me that's not an extended metaphor."
"I wish I could have extended his metaphor." Wade thinks wistfully of Peter's lean body and wry smile. It's no wonder he's already married; if Peter were single, anyone within a ten foot radius of him would immediately try to lock that down. "But no. I think he might be in trouble."
"And?" Weasel says dryly.
Earlier, after Wade had spent the better part of an hour researching parallel universes, he decided that it didn't matter what the truth was. It didn't matter if Peter did actually come from another dimension or if he was a delusional genetic experiment on the lam. Either way, he needed Wade's help, and Wade was going to give it. And the best way for Wade to help Peter is to gather as many details about the situation as possible in the most discreet way as possible. It's just that the most discreet way possible is by bringing Weasel into the loop.
"You're not going to believe me," Wade begins, "but the man who broke into my apartment might be a spider-themed superhero from an alternate universe. Or a genetic experiment on the run from the government."
Weasel is surprisingly silent as Wade tells him about Peter: his abilities, his story, his cute little upturned nose. Said aloud, it sounds more fantastical than it felt while it was happening, and once Wade brings Weasel up to the present moment, there's a short pause as Weasel processes everything Wade just unloaded on him.
"He's fucking cracked," Weasel finally says. "Superheroes? Alternate realities? What the fuck is this shit, the Writer's Guild of America strike circa late 2007?"
"Yeah, I would have thought that too," Wade confesses even as his shoulders sag with relief. Weasel doesn't sound like he believes Wade, but at least he's not questioning Wade's sanity. It's an important distinction. "But the crawling on the ceiling bit made it harder to deny."
"Sounds like all that hanging upside down has made blood pool in his brain. Christ. And all your blood is pooling in the wrong head." Weasel makes a gagging noise. "God, why do you make me think about your dick on a fucking Wednesday morning?"
"Hump day, baby," Wade croons. "Also, I didn't make you think about my cock, you did that all on your own. I get it. Señor Discostick is unforgettable."
"Unforgettably small," Weasel retorts, though as comebacks go, it isn't his best work. Then, switching back to their original conversation, Weasel continues, "I'll look into Schrödinger's twink for you, but I'm putting it on your tab. I don't do this shit pro-bono."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Text me when you have the deets," Wade says. "Oh, and Weasel?"
Weasel grunts. It sounds very much like his ‘fuck you very much’ grunt, the one he uses when he’s starting to tune Wade out, but Wade is deadly serious about Peter’s potential safety, damnit.
"I've only had Peter for half a day, but if anything happened to him, I would kill everyone responsible and then myself." Wade deepens his voice and enunciates, the consonants sharp off his tongue. "So no matter what you find, this stays between us. I don't care how many zeroes are attached to this. If someone's out there looking for Peter, you know nothing. ¿Comprendes?"
"Lo comprendo, comprade." Then, a split second before he hangs up, Wade hears him mutter, "Christ, there better be a fucking free bar at the wedding."
Click.
The dull roar of silence. Beyond it, the ever-present bustle of the city. Wade doesn’t know if he wants to laugh at the unintended irony in Weasel’s statement or shoot something in frustration. Peter isn’t his. Peter will never be his. Peter belongs to another person—another dimension—and the sooner Wade accepts that, the easier it will be to let him go.
Caught between the two emotions, Wade does neither. Instead, he stands there, phone still pressed to his ear, and tries to feel nothing at all.
.
When Wade returns to the apartment, forty minutes after he left, he finds that Peter has migrated from the kitchen island to the couch. Wade's laptop has been set on the coffee table and Peter is hunched over it, his spine curved at a near unnatural angle, comforter dragged around his shoulders like a particularly fluffy cocoon. He's gnawing on his lip and his mug is empty.
"Find anything?" Wade asks. He kicks off his sneakers before walking over and peering over Peter's shoulder.
"Sorta," Peter answers, straightening. The website opened on the screen depicts a man standing in front of a machine with too many wires. He's tall, probably in his mid-forties, and the set of his shoulders and his mouth scream 'entitled fuckwad'. Even the article title is pretentious: 'Dr. Reed Richards' Quantum Computational Analysis Strikes Gold—Again'.
"Looks like a douchebag," Wade comments.
"Another multiversal constant," Peter drawls. He looks away from the screen and at the large waxed bag in Wade's hands. "Oh thank god, I'm starving."
Peter lets the comforter fall down around his waist as he reaches for the food with both hands, making a little happy noise as the smell hits him. In the time it takes Wade to brew another pot of coffee, he consumes three bagels and half a tub of cream cheese. There are crumbs all over his lap when Wade returns, a refilled coffee mug in each hand.
"Good?"
"Amazing."
Wade hands Peter his mug before sitting down, leaning against the cushion and slinging an arm over the back of the frame. He cannot resist the temptation to sit close. Not touching—not quite—but close. Peter smells vaguely of sleep and Wade's shampoo.
"So what's up with Dr. Douchebag?" Wade asks, blowing on his scalding coffee.
"In this reality he's a quantum physicist at MIT." Peter leans forward and clicks into another tab. This is a faculty page for MIT and the picture is at least ten years old; Richards doesn't have any white in his hair in this photo, and the lines in his face haven't begun to form. He also isn't wearing reading glasses, as he was in the article. "He does research in quantum information science, which tries to apply principles of quantum mechanics into real-world application. It's kinda vague about what he's trying to apply it to, but... it's a start." Peter shrugs and chooses another bagel from the bag. Asiago.
"And your other leads?" Wade prompts.
"Well, one of them was a complete bust," Peter admits. "I told you about Tony last night, right?"
"Infinite probabilities guy, yeah."
"Well, he's pretty famous in my universe. His company—Stark Industries—used to manufacture weapons before it turned to other stuff. Renewable energy. Cellphones. Anyway, Tony's super smart and he's one of the original Avengers... which I realize you have no context for but it's, uh, it's impressive."
Peter's right. Wade has no frame of reference for anything he's saying, but Wade doesn't mind because he likes watching Peter's face flit from one emotion to another. It's probably a good thing the mask he wears while in costume covers his entire face; Wade can read an entire novel in the turn of his mouth and the angle of his eyebrows. Whoever Tony is to Peter, Peter admires him immensely.
"Is Tony a superhero too?" Wade asks.
"Yeah." Peter nods. "Iron Man. He builds these armored suits that utilize the repulsor technology he developed."
"And what is he, in this universe?"
"A mechanic. Runs a garage upstate fixing vintage cars. Apparently he's pretty well-known in certain circles." Peter licks some cream cheese from his fingers before pulling up a social media account on the laptop. "He's the guy with the sunglasses."
The photo is of two men on a tropical beach, standing side by side in swim trunks and Hawaiian shirts. The man on the left is shorter and older, with dark hair and a goatee. He has a neon pink drink in one hand and is smiling hugely. The man next to him—taller, blonder, buffer—has hauled him in close, with an arm around his waist and a possessive hand on his hip. His face is soft and completely adoring.
"And the other guy?" Wade prompts.
"Steve," Peter answers. "He and Tony got married four years ago."
It doesn't take a genius to realize that the happy couple in the picture are not happily together in Peter's reality. Peter's eyes are glued to the image, brow furrowed, chewing absently on his breakfast. It's like he's trying to solve an equation that he knows all the variables for, but can't make sense of the answer.
"Bad blood?" Wade hazards.
"An understatement, though... honestly? I didn't even know Cap was anything but depressingly straight," Peter answers. "He's another Avenger. The first, actually. He and Tony had a huge fallout awhile back that affected the whole super-powered community." Another pause. "This would explain a lot."
Wade snorts. "Are you saying that all they needed was to fuck it out?"
"All I'm saying is that it makes a lot of sense in hindsight!"
Wade laughs at Peter's tone, high and defensive. In retaliation, Peter elbows him in the side, the bony point of the olecranon hitting Wade exactly between two ribs. Once again, Peter forgets his strength, and Wade's sound of pain is only slightly exaggerated. Peter doesn't seem to notice, however, his attention immediately returning to the two men on the screen. He doesn't seem upset necessarily, simply melancholy.
"Apples and oranges, baby boy," Wade reminds him gently, verbally nudging Peter out from the spiral of his thoughts. “Tell me who else you’ve stalked while I’ve been gone.”
“Only you could make a basic investigation sound so sketchy,” Peter mutters as he exits out of the tab, the picture of Steve and Tony winking out of existence. His face is no longer pinched and Wade mentally congratulates himself on successfully diverting Peter’s attention from the strange what-if he found. “I’m literally stuck in an alternate universe.”
“Honestly, I would use this opportunity to play the most epic pranks on my friends and loved ones. And by that I mean Weasel.” Wade wiggles a little on the cushion with the sudden realization. “Wait, have you looked up your friends and loved ones? And if so, do you think we could pull some multiversal shenanigans?”
“No and definitely no,” Peter answers, slashing his flattened hand back and forth in an ‘absolutely not’ gesture.
“Ahhhh,” Wade whines. “But Petey Pie, think of the absolute mayhem!”
“I almost did," Peter admits quietly. He reaches for his coffee mug again yet doesn't drink; he just folds both hands around it, the small action performed more for the movement than anything else. "But that picture of Tony and Steve was really jarring, and I'm not even that invested in their personal lives. I mean, I don't have a lot of people, considering my line of work—"
"What, you're saying vigilante grad students don't have a lot of free time?"
"Shockingly, no." Peter puts the mostly empty mug down again. Absently touches his wedding ring and twists the band around his thin finger. "It's just you, and Aunt May, and MJ. Everyone else is a professional acquaintance at best."
You.
Aunt May.
MJ.
The wife, Wade realizes. Peter hasn't mentioned her since drop-landing in Wade's apartment, but Wade makes a living drawing conclusions from incomplete data and patterns. She's on the list of the most important people in Peter's life: other Wade, Peter's crime-fighting partner, Aunt May, the solitary relative, and MJ, the woman he married. It's in the way Peter says her name, the way he unconsciously touches his ring. Wade watches Peter's hand as he fidgets, hating the way jealousy rises in the pit of his stomach, a bubbling ball of acrid bile, making him sick, making him seethe. It's an odd sensation, as he's never been a particularly jealous person; he had never been upset even when Vanessa turned tricks, which she did for most of their relationship.
That's because Vanessa was yours, the rational, if vaguely mocking part of Wade's brain whispers. And Peter isn't.
Peter closes his eyes and leans back, head bumping against Wade's forearm, still slung across the back of the couch. Wade forces himself to focus on the way Peter's brown curls look against the maroon of his hoodie, loose and soft. He wants to run his fingers through the mass but knows he cannot; he stares instead, and mentally puts his useless longing into a mental cage. Mentally locks it, then dissolves the mental key in mental acid. Mentally.
"Anyone else that can help you?" Wade asks, trying to maintain a cheerful façade while he directs their conversation away from more emotionally charged subjects. "Another mad scientist, perhaps?"
"I do have one other big lead," Peter answers. He inhales deeply before returning to an upright position, head lifting from Wade's arm. "My best lead, actually."
The page Peter pulls up on the laptop does not look promising. It depicts the total wreckage of some luxury car, flipped upside down into a ravine; the frame is crumpled from a long fall and broken glass spread across the weed studded dirt. It doesn't look like the kind of crash that most people walk away from.
"Our universes must have very different definitions of 'best lead'," Wade comments.
"In my universe, this car accident was the catalyst for a man named Dr. Stephen Strange to quit his job as a surgeon and become Sorcerer Supreme," Peter explains. "It's promising because the exact same things that happened to him in my universe happened to him here."
" 'Sorcerer Supreme'?" Wade repeats. The word 'magic' escapes from the little 'Shit I'll Think About Later' box Wade stashed it in last night and he grimaces. "Please tell me that he's more Penn and Teller than Harry Potter."
Peter looks at Wade and gives him a small, regretful grin.
"Sweet Dumbledore," Wade mutters, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. He's been operating under Peter's mental assumption that he's from another dimension, only returning to his genetic experiment theory when necessary, but interdimensional travel and magic? Peter is really testing Wade's ability to suspend his disbelief.
"There is another tiny problem," Peter says after Wade reopens his eyes.
"Which is?"
"Strange's accident happened over five years ago and, within a year, he resigned from his job, sold his house, and disappeared. I think I know where he might be, but..." Peter once again twists his ring around his finger. "How do you feel about a little exercise?"
.
Part 5
.
#spideypool#wade wilson#peter parker#deadpool#spiderman#fandom: marvel#pairing: wade wilson/peter parker#rating: m
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Act 3 =>
💚💚💚 JADE HARLEY 💚💚💚
Manic pixie dream girl syndrome wouldn’t dare go near this silly girl. She knows what the fuck she’s doing!!
Becquerel is such a raw name for a dog. No wonder Bec is so fucking powerful.
Now hang on just one second. Of course I remember Bec has some wildly OP stats and ultimately has an enormous role to play, along with a certain cat of similar description. But with the name and irradiated food I’m piecing subtext together I never did in high school. So like…did someone toss this dog in a vat of radioactive sludge shitty comic book hero style? (I tried to find a gif of that scene from Sky High where the dad goes “Where would we even find a vat of toxic waste?” for wayy too long and couldn’t find one but I’m too lazy to make it myself so pretend I made a cute lil joke and move on).
Seriously though where does this thing originate? Is it ever explained? Don’t answer that.
I do like my knee-jerk reaction that Bec possesses radioactive powers because of the name alone, though, the implications are hilarious. My cats are named Kenma, after the Haikyuu character, and Monkey D Luffy, after the idiot. They reflect their namesakes well. Should have named one Tesla. The unit, not the dude.
While I’m on a brief tangent away from the storyline let me add how deeply I appreciate everyone who helped put together the Unofficial Homestuck Collection! I’m reminded of the work and passion that went into this project once again at the original format and poll statistics can be viewed on the decision for Jade’s symbol on her shirt! Dress..lab coat. Clothing! One of many really cool pieces of early HS fandom interaction I’m infinitely glad isn’t lost.
And getting back to the comic at hand, Jade is a furry who ends up a real anthropomorphic individual and I love that for her.
The 8 ball and cue ball in her chest (of the treasure variety) made me flinch, though. For no particular reason, of course. Why would I even say that?
[S] Jade: Open FreshJamz!
Dave would have been an extremely popular vaporwave artist and you know it. He’d have an extremely successful and elaborate lofi channel like lofi girl, steezyasfuck, chill village, etc. (NEW) Explore Remix and Crystalthemums are too fucking good. Especially for a 13 year old!
Jesus fucking christ. This is where she’s getting her information on John? And everyone else?
[S] MIDNIGHT CREW: ACT 1031
Hello???
[S] Dave: STRIFE.
HELLO???!?!?!?!!?
[S] Jade: Descend.
Is this just going to keep happening?! I say this with somewhat delirious glee, don’t get me wrong this RULES- it’s just all jumbled together.
…which is a really good description of how I view HS altogether tbh.
Jade: Answer.
HI AGAIN, IDIOT. <3 <3 <3 <3
For most characters in HS that start a shitty kid and end up with an immense amount of growth later on I will state that I give their shitty actions no leniency. A character needs to be shit on for their fuck ups in order to succeed at growth!
However Karkat is an exception. Vriska did nothing wrong? More like Karkat could never do anything bad ever he’s perfect and I love him. He is doing his best!!! He is always doing his best!! He is trying to save everyone all the time!! Ahhhh!!!!
[S] Dave: Abscond.
:(
Whoop, there it is. Ugh. I have a similar relationship with this flash animation as I did playing Undertale for the first time, and honestly I think I have Undertale to thank for my paradigm shift. I was almost completely detached from genuine reaction and evaluation of media in high school and focused almost entirely on reflecting the thoughts and emotions of my peers around me. It didn’t even occur to me, shallow as my views on media were, to genuinely observe Dave’s stubby little sprite and what happens to him in his attempt to flee his Bro’s onslaught. And dude :c Dave gets beat the fuck up. It’s hard to watch, the humor overtones are appreciated to soften the blow so to speak, but it still sucks to think it takes so long for Dave to realize how wrong this dynamic really is, and even longer for him to work through the complicated feelings and thoughts that come along with a realization like that. I digress, I guess.
[S] Rose: Ascend.
Love you Nanaquin <3
Grist, Shale, Tar, and Mercury. I want to parse this out, why these materials specifically? My initial curiosity comes from being a geologist. Tar and shale form together naturally. In many shale formations there are also mercury deposits, usually pointed out on geological survey websites for public safety reasons (at least in the U.S. where I live this is commonplace). While all those things make sense together to me, I don’t understand why they are being used in the first place. And grist is just a byproduct of milling grain, right?
Matter that forms the basis of a story or analysis. A building block material for a concept. That makes way more sense. I’m pretty sure I heard this definition from Tex Talks on youtube first, who has a series of video essays on Homestuck processes and mechanics. If you haven’t seen them I recommend those videos, they are the kind of in-depth that I like to pretend I could go in conversation about HS, as long as you don’t mind the topics being chosen based purely on individual interest. I certainly don’t.
Anyway grist is a conceptual building block, used to build concepts through the alchemiter and general server side shenanigans. This makes a lot of sense to me having seen an enormous amount of grist being needed for more complicated but physically small items, while very little is needed to build an entire house.
What about the other materials? I don’t know! I did some research and dug around and honestly I don’t get it. Please shoot me a message if you’ve heard it explained in a forum, blog or video essay somewhere, I’m really interested to know if anyone else has found more answers than me! Especially if it pertains to something revealed later in the comic that I haven’t gotten to yet
Liberty. Reason. Justice. Civility. Edification. Perfection.
MAIL.
[S] Strife!!!
Uhh sooo ummm is Jade okay? *gets adoption papers ready*
I guess I straight up forgot how she talks to her gpa. I remembered that he was, like, stuffed. But all the antics, forgot about that. He died during her lifetime right? She remembers him and how he was and this is her coping with all that? Did she,, stuff him herself? Preserve him? Hm.
Moving on, back to PM.
WORM!!
Back to Rose.
KITTEN!!
Okay so they’re setting up the idea that Mamalonde’s lab is the same we’re seeing the Mayor and PM interact with later, got it. Way easier to comprehend this time around vs. as a small teen.
Uncooperative?
Right, of course. I knew that, as I always do. This was just for you.
[S] Rose: Fast forward to now.
BABY ROSE <3 And same face as surprised Dave! Ugghh she’s so cute. What does Jaspers tell her?? We must find out at some point but I have absolute zero recollection of this as a plot point. I’ll keep an eye out!!
Aah, chorale for Jaspers. I remember this meme’d, I also remember playing it for my cat to get a reaction. She did not react.
Skipping ahead some more, John is having his first Father Crisis [dad is not a street performing clown but a boring business man?? Who could have guessed that??]
No shade to Dad though, obviously. Dude kicks ass.
We also briefly see Jade wandering out to feed Bec if the creechure so deems to be found and fed with aforementioned radioactive food. So does a dog(?) with radioactive powers eat radioactive food to fuel it’s life force of radioactivity? Is that the logic we’re working with? I’m not knocking it I just want to be sure that’s…that’s the line of thought. Andrew Hussie. Genius.
Ending it here because we’re got Jack Noir coming up and I want to dedicate a good amount of thought to that. Once again, I have a few posts queued still, so expect another one a week from today. Ily!
tl;dr
Jade Harley = Furry and I support her. Appreciation of Dave’s artistic ability some more. Karkat blocked by Jade, Kells being protective of Dave. Discussion of grist use and origin. PM. Jade’s Grandpa. Baby Rose.
#post 7#homestuck#homestuck reread#rose lalonde#act 3#dave strider#jade harley#jaspers#grist#nana#tunez
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Carpe Noctem preview:
Knock, knock, knock!
By the headache pounding in time with the door, Xinghua knew that it was far too damn early to have someone at her door. She smacked the pair of socks from on top of her alarm clock to check the time, groaning at the mocking digital blue seven flashing up at her.
Knock, Knock, Knock!
Xinghua’s thin, exhausted body slumped out from under her covers like a zombie clawing its way out of its own grave, spilling herself out across the laundry laden floor. The room was spinning and her head felt like someone had poured a dick load of iron ball bearings into it, and then gifted it to a monkey as a drum set.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
Screw whoever the hell cop knocked at seven am.
She scooped a shirt up from beside her head without bothering to feel out whether or not it was inside out and threw it on. She didn’t bother with pants, anyone willing to knock someone’s door down at seven on a Saturday didn’t deserve the courtesy.
Quiet, though heartfelt, Cantonese swears fell from her lips as she dizzily stumbled her way across the apartment to the door. Her head seemed to throb in time with every step.
“What?” She hissed as she threw open her door.
To her surprise, it wasn’t a pair of unlucky missionaries or a gaggle of bewildered boy scouts at her door, but the actual cops. Several of them.
The one in front, a plain clothes detective judging by the rumpled white button down and cheap black tie, began addressing her without even looking up from the pile of papers he was holding.
“My name’s Detective Richard Ransom,” He said in a voice that rumbled with grit, like a stone tumbler, “We have a warrant to search the premises.”
Xinghua squinted down at the apparent warrant he was fiddling with, then blinked up at him as the words settled in.
“On what grounds?”
“We have reason to believe that Thomas Airius is involved with an ongoing series of murders.”
The tension in Xinghua’s shoulders bled out as she released a breezy sigh. Here she’d been worried Mrs. Chen from down the hall had finally followed through on reporting her about the stench of weed coming from under her door.
“Well, can’t really fight a search warrant. Just don’t fucking break anything, yah?”
The detective looked up at her for the first time and seemed to freeze, his indifferent expression rupturing into wide-eyed surprise. He looked like he’d just been bitch slapped by a ghost, his dark complexion paling as the blood drained from his face.
“You okay mister?” She cocked a brow at him.
He mouthed something that might have been a word then cleared his throat, a sharp frown slicing down his otherwise mystified face. He shifted his weight from foot to foot as he worked on schooling his expression into something more professional.
“I’m fine. Do you live here?”
“I’m not a fuckin’ hooker if that’s what you’re asking.”
“No, no,” He winced, “I’m sorry, do you… do you know anything about the Snow White murders?”
She snorted, “This an ‘on the books’ question, detective?”
He somehow frowned even deeper, the worry lines on his forehead forming canyons.
“No, it isn’t. It’s just a little alarming that you’d be at the home of our top suspect. You fit the victimology of this killer nearly to a tee.”
His head ticked sharply to the side as he visibly regretted his word choice, “Sorry that was out of line.”
“Probably,” She shrugged, “But then I did answer the door in my underwear, so who am I really to bitch about being out of line?”
Two of the officers at the back gave her a once over, and the rest of them looked like they were fighting not to follow suit. She could hardly blame them, she was aware of what she looked like, which was part of why she did things like this. They got a nice little treat and she got to watch them squirm. It was a win-win really.
The detective cleared his throat again and Xinghua struggled not to crack a smile as his ears flushed red at the tips.
“May we come in?”
She stepped aside, making a sweeping gesture to the inside of the apartment, “Mi casa es su casa.”
The group filed in quickly, breaking into smaller teams to sweep through the area as quickly and thoroughly as possible. It wasn’t an enormous apartment, but it certainly wasn’t the downtown New York average. She thought it was comfortable, though Tom almost constantly bitched about the ‘lack of leg room’. Trust a man who’d lived most of his life in a mansion in the woods to think 1400 square feet was too small for two people.
“Sooooo,” She glanced up at the Detective as he walked up beside her, “The girls from this case? Do I look like them or do I act like them?”
Ooh, that struck a nerve. She watched his hands clench and unclench, his breathing pick up then manually slow back down, the veins in his neck stood out as he tried to reign himself back in.
“So far they’ve all been young women of east Asian descent, with short black hair and very pale skin.” The detective answered ruefully, eyeing her from his peripheral, “Each was wearing white color contacts when they were found.”
She perched herself up on the back of the couch, balancing like a cat on the side of one leg, careful not to flash anyone. She rested her chin on the heel of her hand, contemplating.
While Tom killing was nothing new, this was the first time she’d heard about him having a type, let alone one that specific. She’d assumed it was arbitrary, whoever caught his eye at the time. Although, given how meticulous and borderline obsessive Tom could get, she supposed it wasn’t really that weird for him. She did wonder how he managed to get them into contacts though.
“Well detective,” She focused her attention back on him, “There’s one little difference between those girls and me. My eyes, like my tits, are real.”
He breathed out a little puff of air through his nose that could have been amusement or annoyance, but otherwise didn’t respond, seemingly lost in his thoughts.
Now that she was actually looking at him, rather than just irritated that there was someone at the door, she noticed he was sort of handsome for an older guy. He was tall, his muscled cop physique just barely starting to transition into dad-bod. His salt-and-pepper hair was left a little long, wavy and coming to rest just barely touching his broad shoulders. He couldn’t have been much over forty by the crows feet that looked to have just started by the sides of his eyes, but the bags beneath them told the story of a troubled man.
Xinghua looked away just as he glanced over at her.
“You seem awfully calm for someone who woke up to the cops.”
“Not my first rodeo.” She said idly, swinging her leg, “Grew up in the shitty part of Chinatown. Cops were in and out of there so often Granny started giving them the family discount. Not half as often as they got called but still, ya get used to it.”
Detective Ransom nodded, “I grew up in East Harlem. Big part of why I became a cop.”
“Let me guess,” She drawled, grabbing a hold of her leg and leaning precariously backward, “You wanted to make sure justice reached even the poorest places, yah?”
“Mmm, that and I thought I’d look good in the uniform.”
A surprised laugh barked out from below her diaphragm.
“Oh yeah? And did you?”
“Definitely, right up until I lost my girlish figure.”
That had her snorting so hard she lost her balance on the couch, tumbling right off the back.
“Detective!” One of the uni’s called out, “I got something!”
Xinghua poked her head up from behind the sofa.
The officer was holding up a small pair of blue leggings with a distinctive brownish-red patch right on the ass of them. Xinghua nearly broke into another fit of laughter.
“Those are mine.” Xinghua chimed in, resting her chin on the back of the couch, “But I don’t think that’s the kind of blood you’re after.”
The officer made a face as he reluctantly put the leggings in an evidence bag.
Xinghua resituated herself on the couch with a bag of chips she’d tossed next to it last night, resigning herself to watching them make a mess of her already messy house. It might have looked like a disaster had torn through, but it was a carefully orchestrated disaster. She knew where everything was, no matter how many times Trish insisted that she couldn’t possibly.
She decided to at least distract herself by playing with the surprisingly personable Detective Ransom. For a cop he was pretty chill, which meant she’d need to make sure she didn’t relax too much. Shouldn’t be too hard.
“Want a chip?” She smirked a little, glancing down at the bag sitting between her legs.
He raised a brow at her, “No, thank you.”
“Your loss.” She shrugged, loudly crunching one between her teeth.
Half an hour later their search turned up next to nothing.
Not that she’d actually expected them to find anything, Tom had rules. It wasn’t like he’d killed them here after all. That was rule number one; Don’t piss where you sleep.
“We’ve got nothing.” A uni whispered to Detective Ransom, “‘Cept that pair of leggings, but that could just be the girlfriend’s.”
Rule number two: Don’t take trophies.
“Thanks Cruz.” Ransom nodded the officer away, “Alright boys, looks like we’re done here. Pack it up.”
“Aw, already?” Xinghua whined, pouting, “I was just starting to warm up to you.”
Ransom’s cheek twitched up a little like he was trying to remember how to smile. Before he could figure it out, the door clicked open.
“Xi-xi~ my little spider lily~ I have wonderful new-”
The crowd of officers turned to the mouth of the hallway where Tom now stood, his expression waxing from confused to amused.
“Xinghua, forgive my forgetfulness, but what occasion do we have for this many strippers?”
This time the force of her laughter had her hurling herself sideways off the couch.
“Thomas Airius, I presume? I’m Detective Richard Ransom. Mind if I ask you a few questions?” Ransom’s tone was clipped but professional, like it had been when she’d answered the door.
Tom’s lips curled up into the perfect imitation of a polite smile.
“Certainly Detective! I apologize for my assumption. Xinghua has a certain proclivity for surprising me with the most offbeat things.”
“That can’t be the first time he’s been mistaken for a stripper. Not with those thighs.” Xinghua whispered under her breath.
Tom’s smile widened by a molar.
“Where were you on the night of November 17th?” Ransom deadpanned.
“That was last Friday, yes? Hmm, I was at the office late that day. Until around midnight. I believe I went out for a drink with my assistant, Seriah Nix after that. Didn’t make it home until one-thirty.”
“And would you be willing to give us this assistant’s number to confirm with?”
“Of course!” Tom beamed, “Though he did just take his annual leave, so I can’t speak for how quickly he’ll get back to you.”
Ransom’s eyes narrowed and a flat, humorless smile spanned his face.
“Thanks.”
“Of course~ May I ask what it is that brings you gentlemen here? Or is that classified?”
“We’re investigating the Snow White Murders.”
“Oh dear! I remember reading about that in the papers recently. Those poor girls.” Tom shook his head, his brows sweeping low into anguished sincerity, “Always such a tragedy when young lives are cut short like that. I do hope you find whoever is responsible. Of course Xinghua and I will cooperate with you in the fullest.”
Tom crossed the room and sat himself down next to Xinghua, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. He kept eye contact with the detective as he pulled her closer, pecking a gentle kiss to her forehead.
Xinghua watched as the hair on Ransom’s arms rose right along with his blood pressure. He exhaled a thin hiss of a breath, though it did absolutely nothing to calm him from what she could hear of his heartbeat.
“Thank you, but hopefully that won’t be necessary.” He said politely, though his neck was straining, “Boys, let’s go.”
The officers filed out of the apartment, leaving just Ransom. He and Tom looked to be locked in a staring contest that Ransom broke only to turn to Xinghua. There was a little black card held between his thick, calloused fingers that he extended to her.
“If you need anything, do not hesitate to call me.” He said with gravity.
Xinghua took the offered card with plans to throw it out the moment the detective left.
“Thanks.” She replied, flipping the thing over between her fingers.
Ransom nodded. With one last withering look at Tom, he also took his leave, slamming the door behind himself.
“He knows.” Xinghua said after a beat had passed.
“Of definitely. He seems like a very astute young man.” Tom slipped his lab coat off of his shoulders and stood to go hang it up.
“‘Very astute young man’, you sound like such a grandpa.” Xinghua snorted, relaxing into her chair.
“I’m older than most people’s grandfathers.”
“Doesn’t mean you’ve gotta talk like it.”
Tom sat down and fixed her with his vividly purple eyes. Ever since she was little his eyes had transfixed her. She’d never seen another set of eyes anywhere near the same hue, a violent shade of violet that, had she not had her own peculiar eye color, she might not believe were real. Accompanied by a halo of dark, thick lashes that seemed to deepen their color, it was no wonder she occasionally got lost in them.
“Xing?”
Like that.
“Sorry, what?”
He chuckled, rolling the very eyes that had just distracted her.
“I said I had a major breakthrough at work.”
“You did?” She sat up eagerly, turning her whole body to face him, “Aah~! Was it the big project that you won’t tell me about because you’re a big, big meanie head?”
“That’d be the one.”
She bounced, excitement bursting from her in the form of a hug. He let her go on for a couple seconds before gently pushing her away.
“I’m so proud of you! I knew you could do it!” She cheered.
He winced along with her pitch, causing her to do the same. She knew better, he’d told her a million times not to be so loud, but she just sometimes forgot when she got excited.
“Sorry.”
“It’s alright Xing, I know this is exciting.”
“Well, it’s been like twelve years!” She attempted to reign in her enthusiasm with mixed results, “Now I finally get to know what’s been taking up so much of your damn time.”
“Not just yet.” He tsked, index finger gently tapping the tip of her nose, “I made a big leap, but there’s still a little bit more paperwork and red tape I’ve got to get through before I can show you.”
She groaned, falling backward onto the couch, throwing her arms up over her head like a child.
“It’s very, very close Xi. A couple more weeks, max.”
“I’m holding you to that.” She threw herself back up into a sitting position, “But, like, we still get to go to Wreck, right?”
“Where else would we celebrate?”
Xinghua whooped quietly, pumping her fist in the air.
#carpe noctem#book preview#Li Xinghua#Richard Ransom#okay so this wasnt five whole pages but its close#my writing#my book
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work in progress wednesday
i was tagged by the beautiful, wonderful @three-drink-amy (i actually did it this week! are you proud?!) thank you so much <3
i didn't actually write anything substantial this week... or the past few weeks, so have this snippet of a soulmate au i've been working on since... AUGUST 8TH 2021?! what the fuck...
anyway, this is a firstprince childhood friends to lovers. this is a snippet from when they first met.
i tag @juxtaposed-variety and um... anyone else. idk who has and has not done it today. i need to catch up on today's post!
He hears an unfamiliar voice and Alex quickly turns his head to see a boy with blonde hair, wild from the midmorning wind, and a patient smile. No need for Stranger Danger yet.
“Did you say something?”
The boy looked shy as he bounced up and down on the balls of his feet a few times. ”Do you want to play?” He asks as he holds out a bottle of bubbles towards Alex. “I have more.”
Instead of slowing his swings or answering the question, Alex asks, “Why do you sound like Peppa Pig? Are you Peppa Pig?”
The boy pulls the bubbles away and hides them behind his back again. “I’m not a pig. Or a girl.” He pouts. “And my name isn’t Peppa. It’s Henry.”
“Then why do you sound like that?” He asks, finally slowing his kicks so he could eventually come to a stop.
“Alexander! Be kind!” His mom yells from a bench near the monkey bars.
“I’m just asking a question!”
His mom glares at him from across the playground and June laughs, clearly enjoying watching her brother get, unfairly, in trouble.
“I’m not from here. I’m from England. I moved here because my dad is working on a movie.”
Alex comes to a complete stop. He whips his head around so fast that the headband June put on him before they left the house slips off and falls into the sand. His curls now lay in his face. “Your dad is in movies?”
Henry nods as if wasn’t the coolest thing Alex has ever heard. “Yeah. He was a spy in some movies a long time ago, but it’s a big kid movie. I don’t know what he’s doing now though.”
Alex nods. “Top secret. Like a spy.”
Henry laughs and it makes Alex smile. He always loved making people laugh. “Yeah, like a spy.”
#if you've read this snippet before no you haven't#i have no clue what i have and have not shared#wip wednesday#mine.doc
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Fun
Pairing: Monkey D. Luffy x F!Reader
Summary: With you near-death experience in Dressrosa, you’re craving for a certain type of release.
Warning: NSFW!
Word Count: 1.7k
A/N: A certain Luffy fanart has made me think of dirty thoughts about him so here I am posting this filthy thing. I’m so flustered, it’s not even kinky but writing smut really flusters me LOL 🤣 Please let me know your thoughts~
Celebrations are usual occurrences in the Straw Hat crew. Despite only having almost half the crew around, it doesn’t make the party any less lively. In fact, the presence of the new allies formed in Dressrosa makes up for the absence of the other crew members.
The near-death experience makes you crave for a certain type of release. And with the copious amount of alcohol being passed around by everyone, it doesn’t take you too long to gather up courage to find someone to help you.
Soon enough, you’re seated on a random guy’s lap, heavily making out with him, a few meters away from the celebrating people. Because of the alcohol, you’re not entirely sure who he is, but you have to admit he’s skilled at using his lips, his tongue, and his hands.
He’s just about to move you into a more private location, but before he could take you away, an arm wraps itself around your waist and suddenly you’re being pulled back into someone else’s lap.
You look at the person who just interrupted your moment, only to be surprised upon finding out it was your captain. “Luffy, what the hell?!”
“Oi, what were you doing with Torao?”
Torao? Trafalgar Law? You whip your head to where you previously were to confirm if the guy who you were with is truly him. Lo and behold, you find Law glaring at Luffy, and then angrily walking away.
You pout and let out a frustrated huff. “Ah, we were just having fun. I’ll just—” you point towards where Law went, “head back so we can...” you absentmindedly trail off, and then you attempt to get up from Luffy’s lap. Keyword: attempt. Because Luffy grips your legs so you couldn’t leave.
You furrow your brows at his actions. Just as you are to ask him why he’s keeping you there, he asks, “Why don’t you want to have fun with me?”
You swear your brain short circuited the moment his question left his lips. If you’re sober, you’re certain you would’ve taken his question innocently. But with the alcohol fogging up your mind, you aren’t sure if he’s just sulking because he wants you to party with him or if he’s inviting you to continue what you’ve been doing a while ago but with him instead of Law. And so, you want to clarify what he means. “What?”
Luffy giggles at your dumbfounded expression. He thought you didn’t hear him from the noise everyone is making, so he leans in, his lips almost touching your ear as he unconsciously rubs your thighs while saying, “I said, why don’t you want to have fun with me?”
And then he pulls away, waiting for your answer.
It isn’t easy to fluster you, but with Luffy’s proximity, the way his hands are moving, and the fact that you’re still aroused after the interrupted makeout session, you find yourself being affected by his question and it’s underlying meaning.
“I, uhm, I-I…” you stutter, unable to look at him in the eyes. You attempt to look elsewhere but suddenly your eyes land on his lips.
You’ve heard of people before who talked about how Luffy has his way of drawing people in and making them his allies. Right now that’s exactly what he’s doing with you, drawing you in — except, he’s doing it quite literally.
Before you know it, you’re leaning into him, and then your lips are on his. He smiles into the kiss before pulling you impossibly closer.
Luffy’s kisses are rather messy and uncoordinated, but it quickly makes you feel lightheaded and excited.
You’re so caught up with the moment to the point that it didn’t occur to you that you have instinctively started grinding on him. You’re only made aware of your actions when you hear Luffy groaning in pleasure. And that’s when you start wanting more, but you’re both still on the deck and there are still drunk people around, even if you both aren’t near them.
Luffy tries to follow your lips when you pull away. And then he pouts when your lips are out of reach. He whines your name, obviously wanting to continue.
“Luffy, I… we should… uhm…” you clear your throat. “I want you,” you whisper.
But Luffy isn’t even listening. His focus is solely on your lips and when you bite your lip nervously, he almost shivers in anticipation.
You take this opportunity to drag him into his room. Thankfully, he doesn’t object nor ask any questions, he just follows your lead. And when you’ve entered his room, you immediately lock the door and start kissing him once again.
You gently nudge Luffy to his bed, not even daring to break the kiss in the process. For some reason, the kiss turns rougher than before, almost feral.
When Luffy reaches the bed and sits down on it, you immediately climb on his lap. You grab a hold of his calloused hands and guide them under your tank top, towards your breasts. He kneads them instantly and you let out a whimper.
Luffy pulls away from the kiss. He removes his hands from under your tank top, and then the next thing you know, he’s tearing up the offensive garment. You haven’t even asked why he did that but he explains already, “It was in the way! I want to feel you better.”
If that’s the case, you unhook your bra and throw it somewhere in the room before he’d even think about ripping it off as well.
Luffy takes a moment to stare at your half naked form. With the way your boobs are slightly moving with every breath you take, he easily finds himself in a trance.
You snap him out of it by grinding on his bulge. You pull him in again for a kiss and he instantly cups your breasts with his hands again. He kneads your boobs and pinches your nipples, and you let out soft mewls in satisfaction.
You bite his lip and he lets out a sexy grunt. You palm his hardened cock and it instantly makes him breathless. He calls your name with a quiver in his voice.
You grab one of his hands and bring it under your skirt, inside your panties and urge him to touch your cunt. “You’re wet,” he breathlessly comments.
You slip one of his fingers into you, guiding him in and out. When he’s found his rhythm, you let go of his hand and let him do as he pleases. He adds another finger soon enough. The sensation elicits a moan from you.
“Do that again,” Luffy says. “Do that sound again.”
You oblige, resting your head on his shoulder as you moan at his ministrations.
You use this time to unzip his pants and tug his cock from the garments. When you start pumping him, he lets out a lewd groan and temporarily stops his fingers from moving. This goes on for a while and when Luffy starts moving his hips with the motion of your hands, you stop.
You pull away completely from him. And then you start stripping him off of his clothes until Luffy’s naked. You watch as he licks his fingers clean from the wetness of your cunt and he hums in appreciation. When he’s done, you take off your remaining clothes as well.
You grab a hold of his dick once again and kiss him on the lips. Your hand movements are slow as you switch from kissing his lips to his neck. You leave a couple of hickeys on him. Then you slowly make your way down, kissing, sucking, licking, biting his chest, his abs, until you’re on your knees, face directly in front of his dick.
He watches you with half lidded eyes, a look that you’ve never seen before on him. You look directly at him as you make kitten licks on his cock. You watch as he visibly gulps. And then you take him in your mouth and start sucking him off. Luffy pants and grunts at your ministrations. You then grabbed his balls and massaged them.
“That feels so good,” he moans.
Luffy uncontrollably juts his hips, wanting more of the pleasurable sensation you’re making him feel. And you let him.
But when you feel his cock twitching, you pull away.
Luffy whines loudly, but you push him so that he’s laying on the bed. You climb atop him, grab his shaft and coat it with your wetness. And then you slowly sink down until he’s fully inside you.
“T-tight…” Luffy mutters, “you’re so tight.”
You wait until you’ve fully adjusted to his size before you start moving. Luffy stares at you in desire as you move on top of him, your tits bouncing with every motion. He watches your face with fascination as he’s never seen your face contort with pleasure like this before. And for some reason, this makes him harder.
Then his body moves on his own, too lost in lust, his hands start squeezing your breasts, his hips start thrusting into you.
When he notices you tiring down, he easily flips the position so that you’re under him. All that’s going through his head is how good you make him feel.
“Luffy… fuck… so good…” you moan out loudly, unable to even make a proper sentence.
He snaps his hips faster and rougher as time progresses. He’s pounding into you so hard that the bed starts creaking and the headboard slams against the walls.
But those sounds are nothing compared to the noises the both of you are making. You have resorted to repeating his name like a mantra along with profanities here and there, while Luffy grunts and moans to your ears, sometimes telling you how amazing you feel.
All too soon, you’re clenching against him so tightly as you climaxed. This brings out a more brutal pace from Luffy as he starts chasing his own high. And when he releases his load in you, you almost shudder at the feeling.
When Luffy pulls out, he notices your juices leaking out of you. And before you can even comprehend what he’s planning, he starts licking.
Your breath hitches from the stimulation, but Luffy doesn’t stop until you’re completely clean.
And when he’s done, he’s grinning widely at you.
“Luffy, that’s…” you start to say, but you didn’t know what word or words you’re supposed to use. Hot? Sexy? Best fuck you’ve had in a while?
Before you can even come up with what to say however, Luffy tells you, “That was fun! We should do that again!”
#one piece scenario#one piece imagines#one piece x reader#luffy x reader#monkey d. luffy x reader#one piece scenarios#one piece luffy#one piece lemon#one piece smut#luffy lemon#monkey d. luffy#monkey d luffy#one piece imagine#op luffy#luffy smut#straw hat luffy#mugiwara no luffy
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Oh my god imagine he betrays her and uses her against Levi once he gets too close to exposing him to her
I CANNOT STOP I’M LITERALLY OBSESSED WITH THIS AHHH. For the sake of plot, Zeke is the villain <3 my evil monkey boyfriend <3
Pairing(s): Vigilante! Levi Ackerman x fem! Reader (some Zeke Yeager x fem! Reader on the side)
Content: Childhood friends, unrequited love that’s no longer unrequited, emotional angst
Warnings: Chloroform, kidnapping, physical assault, blood and injury, some violent insults coming from Levi
Part One | Part Two
The party is over and there’s a decent amount of champagne and wine in your system. Enough to bring on a full headache—which you partly blame Levi for.
How can someone say “I love you” and make it sound so ugly?
“I saw Levi there tonight. Your childhood friend,” Zeke murmurs, placing his cuff links on the dresser. He slides off his coat and folds it over the back of a chair. “He left quickly.”
You hum. “Yes, well, I don’t think I’ll be seeing him anymore. He’s not that good of a friend.” Your voice is quiet, raw from the tears that have threatened to spill and from all the conversations you had to overcompensate for how broken you felt over losing him.
“Oh?” Zeke senses your sadness. He stands in front of you and smooths down your hair, the delicate pad of his thumb swiping below your damp lower lash line. “He never treated you very well, I remember you saying.”
You press your face into his stomach. “No.”
“Then it’s for the best, perhaps,” he adds softly. “You don’t deserve to be treated like that. Not by anyone.”
You want to smile. You really want to.
And you hate it so much, but there’s still a small part of you that belongs to Levi; that begs you to believe every word that comes out of his mouth.
It’s a low ball, claiming that he loves you to convince you to leave Zeke. You don’t know what he was thinking. But you’ve know him your whole life, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him so desperate.
“What is it? You’re so tense.” Zeke clasps your shoulders and rubs out the knots. “Did he say something to you at the party?”
You force a smile onto your lips and shake your head. “Just nonsense.”
“Nonsense, hm?”
You nod.
“Do you still have feelings for him?”
Your face falls, and your brow lifts. “Of course not.” A scowl, so much like Levi’s pinches your features. “I love you, Zeke.”
“But you’ve always loved him more,” he sighs.
You open your mouth, unsure what to make of his words. He doesn’t look distressed. In fact, he stares at you plainly. Speaks plainly. Nothing at all like Zeke.
Then you hear Levi’s voice in your head. You feel that tug inside you, like a compass pointing to a magnet. It takes you a second of doubt to believe every word that came out of Levi’s mouth.
And it hits you how in danger you really are.
You don’t let your expression slip, or your fear show. Instead, you laugh. “Come here.”
Zeke raises his brows but steps forward, and your fingertips wrap around his tie. You tug him down onto your mouth, kissing him hard, hoping to distract him. Shaky fingertips fiddle with his belt buckle.
But he breaks the kiss. He chuckles. “You think you’re so smart, dear.”
It happens in a flash. His hand comes up, and a ring-clad fist slams into your head. When you stumble onto your knees from the impact, your nose knocks the leg of the bed. There’s a crack. Then there’s blood. So much blood. And so much pain. Then darkness.
When Levi looks down at his phone, he sees your name appear. His heart squeezes.
He calls your name into the phone, voice heavy with anguish. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes immediately, so sincere, “I shouldn’t have—I shouldn’t have said what I said. Not like that, anyway. It was fucking— “
“Levi.”
Levi stops dead in his tracks, nearly tripping over his own feet. It isn’t your voice. It isn’t you, but it’s your name on the screen. His heart begins to hammer and his fingers tremble with an inconsolable rage.
“What the fuck did you do?” he snarls.
“Don’t speak to me with that tone,” Zeke says, leaning against the wall. “I didn’t do anything. It’s all your fault.”
Levi swallows. His knuckles flush white as his grip on his phone tightens enough to crush the metal. “Tell me where the hell she is. Or I’ll choke you to death with my bare fucking hands.”
“So violent.” Zeke crouches down and picks up a piece of your hair that has fallen out of place. “Ah, I didn’t mean to hit her so hard.”
“I’ll kill you.”
“Relax, it was an accident,” he grunts. “Listen, Levi, I have a lot of demands and very limited time. You’ll help me, won’t you? Unless, of course, you’re okay with me chaining her up to my desk like a dog.”
Levi shakes. His eyes sting. Whether it’s frustration and anger for being so careless with you, or crushing disappointment from realizing he’s failed the one person in this world he’s ever given a shit about, he can’t tell. He just knows he’s losing his mind right now. That he can’t fucking think straight.
“I think she might be happy, though. She wanted to get away from you for so long.” He traces your bloody lip with his thumb. “I get it. I mean, imagine loving someone so much for so long and getting nothing from it.”
Levi shuts his eyes tight. “Stop fucking monologuing and tell me what you want already.”
“Wait, hold on.” You stir, a quiet groan sounding through the phone, and Levi yells your name. “Give me a moment, Levi she’s waking up.”
He holds the phone away from his ear, but Levi can still hear.
“You’re a tough woman.”
You blink your eyes open and sit up, drowsy. You bring your fingers to your head and the hot liquid dribbling down your fingertips. “B-bastard.”
Zeke tosses the phone onto the bed and reaches into his back pocket to retrieve a handkerchief. He rummages through the dresser before retrieving a bottle.
The handkerchief is dampened and he returns, crouching down in front of you. A funny smell tickles your nose from a distance. “Be a good girl and go back to sleep for me. Levi and I have some business to go over. Just us guys.”
“Levi…?”
You’re so tired. So confused. Everything around you is spinning and you can barely see what’s straight ahead of you. You just hear Levi’s name being mentioned and it prompts you to look around. To look for him.
“Levi… Levi isn’t here,” you slur.
“Yes, he is, dear. You can say hello,” Zeke says, holding the phone to your ear.
“Lev’?”
Your name sounds from his lips. “Are you hurt? Where are you?”
“Mm-hm,” you murmur.
“It’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna come get you, okay? I’m gonna come get you.”
��Hurry.”
“I will, sweetheart. I will. I’ll come get you right now. Just do what he says.”
“What’d you do?” you whisper, inhaling sharply at the sharp pang inside your head.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You can hear how upset he is. It makes you want to cry.
“Levi? Where are you?”
“I’m-I’m coming. I’m close by.”
“Oh.”
Zeke pulls the phone back and holds the handkerchief under your nose. The smell suffocates you. It makes your vision darken around the edges. It isn’t a peaceful sleep.
“That’s it. Good girl. Breathe in and go to sleep,” Zeke hums. “She’s so good, isn’t she, Levi?”
“I’m gonna fucking hang you upside down and bleed you dry.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time. Meet me at the Rosement. You know that bar in the Underground City? Nine o’clock.”
“Don’t put a fucking hand on her, or I’ll— “
“Beat me. Kill me. Bleed me dry. I know. Don’t worry. I’ll keep her nice and safe until our deal is agreed upon. See you then.”
The call ends abruptly, and Levi’s running. He knows where Zeke lives. He’s broken into that goddamn penthouse plenty of times before.
The elevator is out of order when he shoves his way inside, so he climbs sixty flights of stairs to the top.
He kicks open the door. He runs inside.
And nothing. No one’s home. The rooms are empty. All that’s left is a patch of blood in the floor, still drying, and a torn friendship bracelet. One he made you 25 years ago in the sandbox when you were kids, back when he loved you and didn’t know how to tell you, back when he didn’t let you down at every given moment.
#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackerman x fem!reader#levi x fem!reader#levi x reader#levi x you#levi x y/n#aot x reader#attack on titan x you#aot x you#chloroform tw#drugs tw#assault tw#blood tw#kidnapping tw#injury tw
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sleepy boys inc x gn!teen! reader headcannons
trying something new! i like bbs and all, but i wanted to write for other youtubers! lemme know if yall wanna see more content like this lol.
this takes place in a minecraft au!!! also, mentions of bad parenting/abusive parents
wc: 2,319
okay the sleepy boys
chaos incarnated, all of them. you can’t deny it
so, when tommy invites a friend from a local village, at first, everyone else is skeptical. since when has tommy made a friend who didn’t hate him within 20 minutes from all the screaming and insults he spewed?
unlike his friends, phil is more excited than anything. though he isn’t tommy’s dad, he feels like it sometimes, so he really wants to meet this new person who has caught the youngest’s attention
techno is very much not on board. he has a hard time trusting people at first glance and having been friends with tommy for the longest, he knows that tommy readily jumps the gun and attempts to befriend literally anything just because he can
and wilbur? indifferent for the most part. yes, he feels the need to make sure tommy is protected and cared for, but he also recognizes that this situation is out of his hands. the best he can do is hope that their friend isn’t an absolute asshole
so, it’s saturday. all three men are sitting on the couch in phil’s cottage, talking amongst themselves as they wait for tommy to come back. techno makes a joke about murdering them, which leads to phil scolding him about his violent tendencies
“you haven’t even met them yet, techno, what the fuck.”
wilbur is simply adding fuel to the fire, making little remarks here and there and watching the whole thing escalate to phil lecturing the piglin hybrid.
because of this, not one of them had noticed that tommy returned, with his newest friend. they both stopped at the sight of phil in dad mode, tommy considering just turning around and taking his friend as far away as physically possible
too late, since techno’s sixth sense made him whip around and stare at the newcomer. this made phil stop lecturing and wilbur quit giggling long enough for tommy to introduce his friend
after saying their name, the friend lifted their hand shyly, face burning from slight embarrassment. their other hand was latched onto tommy’s, feeling intimidated.
can you blame them? the fucking blood god looks like they wanna skewer them and cook them over a campfire.
tommy took notice of their shyness and cleared his throat, “we were planning on going to the carnival in their village if you three assholes feel like tagging along.”
like there was any way they were gonna let tommy and his friend go out without chaperones.
tommy turned back to his friend, “give me a second, i’m gonna go grab my sword just in case.” and proceeded to run up the stairs and towards the guest bedroom in phil’s house that he claimed.
the millisecond he was out of earshot, techno grabbed his friend by the front of the shirt.
“what are your intentions with tommy?”
the friend blinked once, twice, then bit back a smile. “you’re asking that as if i’m about to date that motherfucker.”
this time, it was wilbur who bit back a grin of his own. who would’ve expected the originally shy kid to have replied like that????
techno’s brain short circuited and his grip on their shirt loosened slightly. did.... did this kid just brush off his question???
“can you put me down? you’re gonna stretch my shirt.”
techno’s brain blinked back into focus and he gripped the kid’s shirt harder, shoving them against the nearest wall. “i asked a question, kid.”
“you know, tommy told me something like this would happen. i’m glad i came prepared.” and then, tommy’s friend sucked in a deep breath. techno leaned back, expecting the worst...
“MWISTER TECHNWOBWADE, PWEASE PUT MWE DOWN BEFWORE I SCWEAM”
oh god, this was far worse than anything he thought of.
he dropped the teen out of disgust more than anything, reeling backwards. if there was one thing that haunted his dreams, it was uwu-speak.
phil started howling of laughter, clutching his stomach and hunching over. originally he was going to stop techno from threatening a literal child but this outcome was so much better than anything he was anticipating
wilbur was no better, already tearing up from how hard he was snickering. he started choking on his own spit at one point, smacking his arm against the couch.
tommy was so fucking confused when he came back down the stairs, seeing the mayhem that was, for once, not caused by him. he glanced at his friend, who had the world’s biggest shiteating grin.
yeah, they were gonna fit in just fine.
and they did! phil took them under his wing (both physically and metaphorically) and allowed them to come visit his home whenever they wished. and whenever they did, phil was the first to ask how they’ve been and what they were up to
to phil’s surprise, the kid was overall calm in their choice of activities. things like playing soccer or drawing or figuring out how to learn instruments in their free time. it seemed like they were desperate to get their hands on anything and everything just to learn
he found it funny, though, when their chaotic side shone through. they easily were on tommy’s level when they got into that headspace and it was so hilarious to him.
his favorite memory of the kid was when they walked into the house and marched right up to where techno was reading idly in the corner. planting their hands on their hips, they spoke.
“if you were to fuck a clone of yourself, would it be masturbation or would you be considered gay?”
phil, who was washing the dishes six feet away from them, just about crumbled into a ball on the floor from how hard he was laughing and sobbing.
of all questions, that was the one that came out.
but he had no idea that the chaos was a coping mechanism. he just thought they were naturally like that in their free time.
he soon found out the truth when they came home with tommy, who was cursing up a fit, visibly angry. his friend was slumped over, as if trying to hide themselves from the world
when phil asked what had happened, tommy exploded.
“their fucking dad took all their money from their savings! said he needed it more than them and when they asked for it back, he called them a fucking disappointment! that fucking bitch--”
phil can count very few times when he felt true anger and he can confirm that when tommy had told him what had gone down, he saw red.
but he knew better than to outwardly show it. judging by how hunched over and defeated the kid was, what they needed was a stable support system
so he walked over and shut tommy up with a hand on his shoulder, “why don’t we take the rest of the night to build up that game room you wanted in the basement. i’m sure if we knock it out before techno and wil are supposed to be back, we can all play something like monopoly.”
seeing where phil was headed, tommy nodded and brushed away his anger. he knew that what his friend needed was a serious cheering up. tommy ran towards his guest bedroom, claiming that he was going to find his blocks.
phil crouched in front of the teen, tilting their head up to look him in the eyes. “you’re not a disappointment. you’re an amazing person with a chaotic joke machine going 120 kilos over the speed limit in your head and you are talented. your dad doesn’t know shit about what you’re capable of doing.”
oh boy, the kid’s crying. those are tears, full on tears.
that night was one of the best nights of their life, however. they enjoyed the entire three hour long game of monopoly where they watched the light leave everyone’s eyes. it was funny when wilbur lunged across the table when he landed on a railroad, out for phil’s blood.
speaking of wilbur, he enjoyed every minute in the kid’s presence. they often asked creative and random questions and went along with the abstract jokes he made, the two of them laughing heartily the entire time.
when the kid first mentioned wanting to learn how to play the guitar, he practically burst through the wall of the room next door, breathing heavily and exaggeratedly.
“did someone say guitar”
yeah, he’s feral. that’s canon.
they proceeded to spend the entire day in phil’s garden, each of them equipped with a guitar. despite their outwardly smooth brain and stupid demeanor, the teen was a fast learner and could play the most basic chords by the time the sun was setting.
wilbur’s favorite moment was the first night they met, when they went to the carnival. there was the game where you shoot the water and fill up the balloons and the kid was going head to head against techno and tommy.
it was when techno won that the teen turned to techno with murder in their eyes and spoke in a deadpan tone of voice,
“you’re lucky you won this time, you gentrified mayo monkey.”
wilbur’s jaw dropped, as did techno and phil’s. tommy was already in hysterics, smacking his hand against the counter that held the guns.
needless to say, wilbur found his favorite, not-quite sibling in a heartbeat.
techno was the last to come around with the child. can you blame him? every time he tried to threaten them or had beaten them at something, they would respond in a cryptic threat--
“i’m going to pee your pants if you don’t let me win”
or just brushed him off. without a second thought.
“anyways, i was murdering a chicken the other day, and the fucker had the audacity to ribbit at me.”
to say he was confused was an understatement. he was terrified of the fact that a literal child held so much power and disinterest in things like their own life. so for the first few months, he avoided them.
but he had seen past that when it was around midnight on a weekday. tommy was hanging out with tubbo and ranboo in their village miles away from the area. wilbur was out drinking with schlatt, niki, and fundy, and phil was already asleep.
techno wasn’t too far behind, sitting in front of the fireplace and staring out of the window that showed the front yard. it was only then when he saw the flash of a familiar face and looked closer as the teen walked up to the house quietly. their head was down and they carried a small bag with them.
techno opened the front door with a long creak as they reached the porch steps. it was only when they jumped and looked up in surprise that techno had noticed a deep bruise on their left cheek in the moonlight.
despite the fact that he kept away from them, techno was very protective and territorial of tommy, phil, and wilbur. and since they were attached to the teen, he became protective of them as well.
so all the voices in his head went quiet for a second. before exploding into a mixture of screams and threats, all leading back to protecting the child in front of him.
without thinking, he reached forward and cupped their face for a better view of the bruise. at the warm and soft touch, tears slipped down the kid’s cheeks and they sniffed pathetically.
the voices quickly took a 180, all screaming to take care of them. make them feel better. so, techno led the kid inside and let them spend the night in his room, with them falling asleep on the bed and him falling asleep on the rocking chair in his room.
phil did not hesitate to officially declare himself as the teen’s official father, saying that their biological father was a “little bitch”
now somewhat living with the teen, techno found an appreciation for their quieter moments, when they were reading or simply daydreaming. it was cute, in his eyes. but he also grew to enjoy when they were absolutely feral, especially toward tommy.
his favorite moment with them was when they had gifted tommy a music disc for his birthday. it was sweet and sentimental and tommy just about burst into tears when he saw it.
all of the sappiness quickly vanished when tommy put it into a jukebox.
“FUCK THIS PUSSY, BOY, FUCK. FUCK IT RIGHT, BOY--”
tommy had let out the most terrified scream and it practically engrained itself into techno’s brain. it was the first time he ever laughed at something the teen had done and the teen felt proud of themselves.
and finally, tommy. he was already happy to call himself a friend of the teen’s. they were like peas in a pod, working together.
tommy came to them when his insecurity felt heavy and they came to him whenever their dad’s words got to them. they had a nice system of dependency on one another and neither of them would trade it for the world.
tommy’s favorite moment of being friends with them was during their first birthday living in phil’s house. it was a birthday befitting their personality, with brightly color streamers hung and confetti all over the floor. he knew that they enjoyed it severely and once the cake was cut, the kid turned to phil.
“phil, where’s the big tiddy strippers i requested?”
tommy was GONE
he all but choked on his slice of cake and walked away, shaking his head while trying to stifle his giggles. but when he heard phil’s scream of “WHAT”, he just lost it.
all in all, his friend had made a fine part of the sleepy boys. they were a happy face in an otherwise somewhat bleak and dangerous world. and all four men appreciated it.
#sleepy boys x reader#sleepy bois x reader#sleepy bois inc#sleepy boys inc#sbi x reader#x reader#reader insert#teen! reader#mcyt x reader#minecraft youtubers#minecraft youtubers x reader#dreamsmp x reader
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the tags on your football Billy story about autistic kids not being allowed to play sports, gave me the idea of Steve with autism not being allowed on the basketball team and how Billy and maybe Tommy if you want since you write kegboys sometimes would react
It doesn’t take Billy long to notice him, the benchwarmer boy who sits on the sidelines, never getting his shot in a single game, just riding the bench with a smile on his face.
At first he sort of pegs it to mean the kid is just really not good, maybe riding the tails of his daddy’s sportsmanship legacy, but then Billy realizes something, that this kid doesn’t even get to play at practice.
He shows up and he sits there like being excluded is the happiest he’s ever been, and the only time he ever has the ball in his hands at all is if it’s to toss it to one of the boys on the court when it rolls to him.
Despite this though, he has his very own jersey. Number zero. Harrington.
Billy asks Tommy after practice once who this mysterious jersey kid is, and he smiles sort of tight, like maybe Billy shouldn’t have asked him that, and tells him, “I’ll introduce you.”
Tommy walks over to the kid and tells him something that makes him light up, jump to his feet and follow Tommy back over, “Billy, this is my best friend, Steve Harrington.”
Steve just sort of waves, so Billy jumps straight into it. This kid intrigues him and he wants to know more, “There a reason you don’t play, Harrington?”
In response he shrugs his shoulders, hands stuffed in the pockets of his way too big basketball shorts, “I’m not allowed.”
“Why not? You fail some test or something?” Billy tries to ask lightly, not noticing the way Tommy’s face scrunches up before Steve drops a bombshell on him instead, “They don’t let special ed kids on the basketball team.”
And if that’s not bad enough, Tommy then adds, though significantly more bitter than even Steve is, “Or on any team for that matter, whether it’s sports or clubs or debate, you name it. School board denies every last application.”
“Oh.” Billy frowns, totally dumbfounded, his school in California never had any issues with that, “Oh that- that’s bullshit.”
“I know.” They say at the same time, prompting Billy to ask, “They don’t even have like, a separate team?”
“Not enough kids would do it.” Tommy says, and he gets a sharp look from Steve, who corrects him quickly, “Not enough kids could get permission to do it.”
“But that’s such bullshit.” Billy repeats, not very helpfully.
“Nothing we can do about it. We’ve tried everything. Not even momma Harrington could convince the school board, and let me tell you, that woman is scary.”
Steve elbows Tommy for that one, and Tommy laughs softly, throws an arm around his shoulder, but Billy is thinking, biting the corner of his nail in concentration, “Why don’t we start our own team?”
“I don’t know.” Steve’s face scrunches up, and he turns to Tommy, like he doesn’t trust what Billy says, so Billy continues, “No, I’m serious. School says you can’t play for them, so fuck ‘em. There’s courts in the park, I have a ball, and I’m out there half the time watching my little sister anyways. Let’s start our own team.”
Tommy answers for him, “Practice takes up too much time. We’re not gonna be much of a team unless we’re going to be playing at night or in the winter.”
“Then we quit the tigers.” Billy shrugs, like it’s obvious.
Instantly Tommy narrows his eyes, “Very funny, man.”
On the other hand though, Steve looks at him with awe written all over his face, eyes wide and spelling, “You’d really quit for me?”
And Billy, he plays it off like that look doesn’t make his heart melt, claiming, “For you and for Max who’s been talking my ear off about how much she wants to play soccer and whose heart is going to break when she finds out she can’t.”
Convinced, Tommy looks over at Steve, “If you’re in Stevie, I’m in too.”
Steve seems like he’s considering his options, drumming his fingers on the outside of his thigh, occasionally humming softly in thought, and it’s making Billy impatient.
“So?” He asks, to which Steve nods a confirmation to his offer, his hair bouncing with his enthusiasm.
Tommy cracks a crooked smile, holds out a hand for Billy to shake, seal the deal, “You’ve got yourself a team, Hargrove.”
They decide not to give their little team a name, the idea of being called something feels too exclusive, which was the reason they’d all quit the school's team in the first place. Billy had gotten in big trouble when his dad found out he quit for wasting their time and money on basketball, but that was all bullshit anyways, games were only usually a half hour long and were free to get into for the players family, and the school paid for the uniforms.
But that was what he said and what he’d been going to punish Billy for until they found out about the reasoning behind quitting, after which Susan was flattered he cared so much about his little sister, and he got his permission to freely go down to the park and play with the “special” kid.
Neil of course didn’t care about him doing it for Max, he was just concerned with Billy’s public image. Playing ball with the richest family in town's dopey son did nothing but good things for the way their neighbors saw him, so he’d allow it.
A few weeks into their games though, which are mostly just playing HORSE or teaching Steve how to do trickier shots since no coach ever would, Billy has to bring Max along because nobody was going to be home and she wasn’t allowed to be by herself. It’s a dreary day so there aren’t many people around at all, so he decides he’s going to loosen her leash, and walks her over to the playground (that they can see clearly from the courts, he’s not that irresponsible.)
He teasingly offers to push Max on the swings or lift her up to the monkey bars, making her roll her eyes and proudly declare that she’s not a baby anymore, so he chuckles and leaves her be, walking back to the basketball hoops.
Tommy and Steve are just sitting on the old wooden bench just off to the side of the court, waiting for Billy to get back because he’s their little impromptu coach and they can’t start without him, but he notices that they’re sitting awful close together, and between them, Tommy’s hand sits slightly on top of Steve’s, pinky fingers linked together.
Now he knows these two are affectionate, he couldn’t even count how many times Tommy picked Steve up after he made a good shot or ruffled his hair and smiled at him when he messed up, but that was all just friendly affection.
This was different though, he could tell it was from the way Tommy’s eyes snap up and he pulls his hand away, the both of them looking away from each other guiltily.
He feels a little something like jealousy in his chest, or maybe it was just anxiety at the fact that they’d been so obviously holding hands in the public park, but either way, he just kind of freezes up, looking between their two terrified faces until Tommy’s turns angry, standing from the bench so fast the old rusty things creaks loudly and Steve has to cover his ears.
He grabs the front of the baggy jersey Billy wears from his old school's team, the bears, and gets right up in his face, sneering, “You gonna say something, Hargrove?”
And Billy’s not afraid of Tommy, he might be mean, but he’s on his toes to threaten him, and he’s pretty sure they both know Billy would win the fight anyways. He’s not going to fight him though, and he makes that clear, putting his hands up as a clear sign of not going to sock Tommy for yelling at him, “Secrets safe with me, dudes. You go down, I’m going down with you.”
Tommy doesn’t get it though, because he growls, “Right. ‘Cause all that matters is what will happen to your reputation after giving up your precious sport just to hang with a couple of fags, right?”
“Tom.” Steve snaps, but he gets ignored, Billy arguing over him, “Actually, no. You know all that talk about queer kids flocking together without even knowing? That doesn’t come from nothing. I out you, it’s putting a target on my back, and from there it won’t be not long before a little birdie tells the wrong person the right rumor and we’re all dead.”
“Oh.” Tommy says softly, his face falling.
Billy nods sarcastically in response, “Yeah, oh. So let go of my damn shirt before I find a reason to punch you in the face.”
“Can we just play basketball?” Comes a timid request from behind them, so Tommy lets go, wipes his hands on his shorts, and answers him, “‘Course we can, Stevie.”
It doesn’t take long for them to get bored though, none of them are really in the mood to play after that. They play a small game that’s pretty much just Tommy blocking Billy the whole time, but after he shoots the ball they all just let it roll, none of them caring enough to keep the play going. So instead, Tommy offers up his place to hang out there.
It sounds at least better than this, so Billy drops Max off back at home, making her promise not to do anything stupid to get them in trouble until he gets back later that night, and heads straight to Tommy’s like they planned.
The whole drive he’s worrying that they’re gonna pissed at him and beating himself up for not just pretending like he didn’t notice, to the point where he almost just drives right past, but Steve waves at his car from the front window, and he can’t do all this petty angry shit to him.
Tommy’s house is empty for the night, so that means two things, that they’re free to drink as much as they want, (smoking’s a no go though, the smell is too strong and makes Steve upset), and that Steve sits right on Tommy’s lap like it’s nothing.
Which, it is nothing. Billy just told them he was gay too, and now they don’t have to hide from their best friend, so it’s common sense that they wouldn’t.
But Billy, well, he wouldn’t say he’s jealous watching the two of them together, it just makes his chest burn every time they touch or laugh at some joke and whisper amongst themselves like he isn’t even there, or when Steve kisses Tommy’s cheek.
Yeah no, there’s no pretending, Billy is totally jealous. He’s had a thing for Tommy since like, day one of practice when he bounced a basketball back in his own face trying to show off, and Steve for just as long, yearning to know more about the pretty faced mystery kid who turned out to be a total sweetheart and won him over. It’s tearing him to shreds watching them just being happy together without being a part of that.
He wonders if these small town boys have ever even heard of having more than one partner other than like, mormons, and if they haven’t, how is he supposed to bring it up without sounding like a total weirdo. Maybe he could claim that he was just trying not to be left out since they were probably the only queer kids in Hawkins. Or maybe not and Tommy would try to kick his ass again for even trying.
He doesn’t have to do much wondering though, because as pointedly as he’s trying to ignore them, Steve keeps getting closer to Billy on the couch until he’s sitting in his lap, and Billy has to ask, blue eyes going a little wide, cheeks flushing red in a way that had nothing to do with the sunburn he’d gotten at the park earlier, “What’re you doing Steve?”
“You included me. Now I’m including you.” Steve hums and leans his head on Billy’s shoulder, holding eye contact with Tommy.
To say that Billy is flustered and doesn’t know what to do with himself is more than an understatement. He'd like to say he’s not the most inexperienced one here, but it’s not looking good, because he’s flushed as red as a tomato, and the only thing he can think to say is just, “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” Tommy says and smiles that big goofy smile of his, a playful imitation of their little argument from before, “And I’d much rather you kiss me than punch me.”
#kegboys#steve x billy x tommy#billy hargrove#steve harrington#tommy hagan#autistic steve!#ej writer#story by ej!#requests#based heavily on personal experience lol#thank you anon for reading my mind#and for the request <3
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Save Humanity For me
summary: the expedition to take back wall Maria doesn’t go as Levi hoped when he saves his battered lover.
warnings: angst
✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩
There you were, standing on Wall Maria as you stared off into the horizon. The sun was still coming up from its slumber as it spilled hues of orange and red over the sky. You stood beside Erwin, Levi, and Eren as the rest of the scouts clanked their blades against the stone to find our enemies. Thinking it was a waste of time you persisted on staying standing on the wall.
From the corner of your eye you saw Levi, his raven hair swayed in the morning gust of wind as he stood broadly, his shoulders rolled back into place as always.
You have known Levi for what felt like eternity, you both equaled each other in the perfect ways, you were the brains he was brawns despite him already being intelligent and witty. There even sparked a romance between you two that began when you both went together to take back Eren.
Turning your posture to face him, you raised you hand and set it on his forearm. His gaze flickered to you in an instant. As you were about to speak a loud shot rang through the air as red smoke flew through the sky. Right below you.
A gust of wind flew past you as the last thing you saw go down the wall was a dark green cape and raven hair. Unsheathing your own blades you took hastily step forward until Erwin put his arm out to stop you.
When you looked down you saw Reiner and a blade jammed through his neck, along with an angry Levi that stuck another blade through his chest. Your face contorted into one of disgust and shock.
You saw Levi retreat back to the wall as Reiner began to arch his back in the ground.
"Levi!" You yelled just as a large beam of yellow lightning crashed onto the ground and erupted snakes of yellow electricity and large gusts of wind.
There laid the armored titan, your eyes hyper fixed on the titan as Erwin began to spew orders at the scouts.
"Keep on the lookout! Locate his allies!"
Yellow beams of light and dirt shot up from the ground surrounding the outer village immediately. Breath hitched in your throat as you quickly realized you were trapped, by hundreds of titans and a monkey.
Levi swung up from the wall and landed neatly behind you, putting a protective hand on your back as he himself analyzed the danger we just got ourselves into.
Erwin stood dumbstruck as the scouts began to shout worries and yells for Erwins next plan. You and Levi stood quietly behind him as you felt Levi rubbing your back softly, a gesture he does often.
"Are you finally ready to say something. I could've had breakfast during the wait." Levi remarked with a monotonous voice.
Erwin turned around and began giving distinct orders. Levi and Hanji's squad were meant to be taking down Reiner.
"...Give your hearts!" Was the last thing you caught from his speech as everyone began to departure, Levi's hand leaving your back.
"Wait, Armin, Levi, Y/N" Erwin commanded as you halted in your steps, turning around.
"I did say Levi's squad but I need you and Y/N to stay."
"To protect the horses and not Eren?" Levi shot back
"Yes, and strike him down when the time comes." Erwin unsheathed his blade and pointed at the beast titan, shivers ran down your spine.
"Understood" Levi cooly spoke "Since I failed to kill that armored brat earlier."
"Y/N." Erwin stated as Levi was nearing the edge of the wall, curious as to where you were assigned to so if needed he could help aid you.
"Do not let a single titan near those horses." You nodded "Of course." Pulling the hood over your head you ran to the edge of the wall beside Levi and jumped off together.
Nearing the separation time you and Levi looked at one another, exchanging nods that held the words 'please, be safe'. Taking off in separate directions you flew forwards as Levi spun around on his ODM gear, spinning in the air as he unsheathed his blades to take down the titan below him.
Racing forwards you stared at the beast titan, it looked as if it was staring daggers at you. Shaking your head you gazed down and found a titan running.
Unsheathing your blades you stared down at the demon as you unleashed your ODM on it, the slight nick in its shoulder made it spin its head at you. It had huge blue eyes and a small frown on its features, if only you cared was all you could think when you diverged its hand and spun around it, spinning backwards to fixate yourself back on your target. Releasing your ODM on its nape as you readied to strike, tearing your blades through its nape and exiting hastily.
This carried on for only about 15 minutes until you landed on a rooftop, titan blood finding itself on your clothes and face, steam fluttering into the air.
Looking around the rooftops you spotted a certain raven haired man, a slight smile plastering on your features. You released an ODM and began to race towards him.
Until, bits of rock flew past your eyes. Time began to slow as you turned your head at the cause. The beast titan.
A rock nicked your arm as you let out grunt and shot your ODM behind a building, hiding in the small alley as blood cascaded down your arm.
"What the fuck.." you muttered
Seeing the rocks stopped you shot your ODM at the top of the building and flew up, as you soared above the buildings momentarily all you saw was red. Corpses were stuffed under rocks, faces half missing, blood and guts stained scout uniforms.
"Levi!" you yelled once you landed on a roof, noticing the beast titan reach for a new rock.
"Levi!" you yelled louder this time, just as you see a raven head fly past you. His eyes caught yours for a moment and they widened a fraction.
He was going straight for the titan, why is he going straight for it. These thoughts screamed at you in your mind as you shot to follow him.
When he heard the shot of ODM gear he never expected you to follow him, why would this brat girl follow him into a clear death zone.
The beast titan threw a new round of its rocks, you had still been mid air when he sent off this blow. Considering your chances of survival you shut your eyes, small tears had formed at the corners of your eyes. You released your ODM and tried your best to maneuver into a small ball.
As you awakened your new demise you couldn't help but hear screaming, screaming from the scouts who had lived up until now to die, everything they've done in their live to die in this moment. But one scream stood out, it wasn't screaming to scream but rather at someone. Ah, Levi, my new romance would have to come to an end. It's sad, being the last thing you hear are the curdled screams from your blossoming lover. Tears were streaming down your face now, it's time, isn't it.
Just as you predicted you felt a stone shard rip right through your uniform and flesh, lodging itself into your stomach region. This time you screamed.
You lost control of your ball formation and fell straight for the ground below you, turning in the air so your stomach laid up as you clutched it tightly, screams still emitting from your mouth.
The hard ground never met you, but instead arms, shaking arms.
"Brat... idiot.. why, Y/N" You groaned and lifted a hand off your stomach, clasping his white shirt with your bloody hands.
"Levi.." You eventually mustered as he found a safe spot, leaning you against the wall comfortably as he crouched down in front of you.
"Brat, what were you thinking." He almost yelled, but it never faltered your smile as you stared at him, taking in his features one last time for your keeping. He had tears cascading down his cheeks, dirt covering his face and his hair was disheveled.
You slowly raised your hand and planted it onto his wet cheek.
"Levi.. live.. for me" You gave him a smile, before wrenching over and coughing up blood, you furrowed your brows in pain and leaned back once more.
"No.. shut up, shut the fuck up brat" He cried out as he his went to his belt, you watched with sad eyes until you realized what he'd grabbed. The case.
You shook your head, it was the liquid to make you into a titan. "No-.. Levi." You said as clearly as you could, pushing the case back to his chest as he stared at you with a look of pain.
He even knew it was a waste of a liquid, but still, he would still do it if she had agreed. Levi placed the case onto the ground and brought his hand up to caress your face.
"I'm sorry...." He spoke with a cracked voice, his usual personality faltering as he stared into your eyes. He knew he would never get you back and it hurt him, bad.
"Save.. humanity.." you felt your grip on his cheek falling but Levi raised his hand and kept it there, he didn't want you to leave yet, not ever.
"I will." He nodded sadly as he watched the life leave your glistening eyes.
"I love you Y/N" He got out before tears fell freely and he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him as he sobbed into your shoulder, gripping you tightly, just to feel the last of your living and breathing touch.
"I love you.... Levi." You said slowly, your last breath being his sweet name, it's all you could've hoped for as you finally left this hell.
Everything was still, Levi knew you were gone now, he knew he was holding the corpse of the woman he loved and entrusted with his life. But yet he couldn't let go as he continued to cry, his eyes were red with tears.
"I love you so much.." Was all he could whisper to himself before pulling away from the corpse, it's head falling limp once it left his shoulder.
He picked your body up gently, the tears were gone now. Leaving the small alley his heart clenched, surveying the broken town. He shot his ODM gear up to the wall were Levi assumed he'd find Erwin.
Reaching the top he stood staring at Erwin, the commander turned to look at Levi, his eyes widening when he found the body of Y/N.
No words were spoken between the two as Erwin looked up at Levi again to study his facial expressions, his eyes shadowed and his cold and stoic expression was back.
"Let's murder that fucking titan."
#levi ackerman#levi heichou#levi aot#aot x reader#aot fanfiction#i’m so sad#levi x reader#levi x y/n#angst#levi angst
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How's about 45 and 54 where canon MK finds himself in the Inverted AU Universe? Because I think that'd be funny
Poor MK is having the second worst day of his entire life. This is not the situation he should be in AFTER THE FINALE. This would have been way different if I wrote this when you sent it in, but now you get a very sad Monkie Kid.
You may technically be an adult, but you’re still my child./ Yeah well dying generally puts a damper on things.
When MK was knocked out they were on the deck of the drone ship, fighting off some kind of demon that the White Bone Spirit had taken under her control.
When MK woke up they were on the sandy shores of Mount Huaguo surrounded by baby monkeys and one Six-Eared Macaque looking down at them with a face of great concern.
“Are you-” Macaque started to ask them, unable to finish his sentence when MK screamed and kicked out and just barely missed making contact that would have sent him flying backwards into the nearest tree. “Whoa, no, it’s alright! I’m not-”
“What did you do to me this time, Macaque!?” MK yelled, looking around for a weapon, any weapon, something they could use to defend themself. Their eyes fell on something familiar, something that shouldn’t exist anymore and they froze at the sight of red and gold.
“Little one, is your name MK?” Macaque asked softly, holding up his hands as he slowly walked forward back toward the started and confused young adult before him. “I found you washed up on the shore. You need to lay back down, you’re still-”
Macaque let out a yelp of surprise as MK dove, hand firmly grasping the familiar warm-cold center of the staff.
But it felt... wrong, somehow.
They didn’t let go.
"OK, WHAT IS HAPPENING!?" MK shouted, holding the stolen staff in front of them as they turned on the immortal monkey that was their one time mentor. "Is this Jin and Yin again? Is this the Calabash!? Did they change it so my stuff doesn’t work in it anymore!? I'm not falling for that again!"
"I'm sorry, the what?" A new voice rang from behind him. One a little... too familiar...
It was MK. It shouldn't be possible, not if the Calabash was working the same way it had worked before, but it was them. But not.
Like... the way the staff felt.
The Other MK standing in the too bright sun wore a stark sky blue and black instead of his signature orange and red, a large hefty backpack in that same blue slung over his back. And he was... tall. Not unusually tall, just taller than MK was. And also looked incredibly angry as he carried a box of medical supplies.
"The... Calabash..." MK repeated, holding the staff closer to their chest with a nervous gulp. Their hands twisted around the staff nervously, hoping the repetitive action would ground them against the repeating 'THERE IS ANOTHER YOU STARING AT YOU WHAT THE HELL' whizzing in their head. "This... this isn't Jin and Yin again after all, is it?"
MK gulped again, blinking as their vision swam suddenly and their head felt like it was filled with... something. Like liquid but if it was as light as air.
"I don't know which answer would be better for you," Macaque said softly, honesty palpable in his tone. Something so odd for the Monkie Kid to hear in their ears with that voice. "But no. We are very much real."
"Oh..." MK said plainly. "Oh that's bad. That's... Oh boy..."
Before their eyes rolled back in their head and they passed out they were pretty sure they saw a few more overly familiar faces rushing to them.
~
When MK woke a second time they were once again moved, but to somewhere else far less familiar than the shores of Mount Huaguo and the drone ship... but also too familiar. They also now realized that their head hurt... a lot. Like, a lot a lot.
“Finally, you’re back from the brink of death,” that same overly familiar voice rang our in their ear. They snapped their head to the side, regretting it instantly as it made their vision swim again and lights pop in front of their eyes. “Hey, no, don’t do that!"
The other MK jumped up, kneeling down in front of them and poked them in the forehead. His scowl didn’t seem to let up in the slightest, but it tilted in a way that felt more concerned than angry.
"... why am I looking at my own face?" MK asked, not sure whether they should continue to stare at their own face or to look anywhere else to keep their brain from short circuiting trying to process what the actual hell was happening.
“Considering you were able to pick up my staff,” the other MK said, removing his finger and gesturing to the rod that was still across MK’s chest (how had he not noticed the extra weight of it still in his hand?). “I’d say we have some kind of multi-dimensional bullshitery going on here. Unless you’re, somehow, a robot made of the same shit Red used to get the that thing in the first place, but I don’t think robots bleed from head injuries.”
Ah. That would explain why his head felt like someone had cracked it open and shoved cotton balls into it.
MK looked around, taking in the stark white walls and the overly clean smell and the clean white sheets they were laid on.
“... am I at the hospital?”
“Oh, absolutely!” Other MK yelled, raising his arms in frustration as he paced the room in a familiar excess of energy. “But unfortunately for us you don’t exactly exist here! So we’re figuring out a way to make them believe you’re me with some really fucked up memories my dude! Which is easier with, you know.”
The other MK knocked on his head twice, wincing a bit as the second knock seemed to be harder than intended.
“... but you’re..?”
“I snuck in.”
“OK, well, thanks for the help,” MK started, sitting himself up with more than a little struggle. “But I need to figure out what the heck happened and get back to-!”
“Oh no you don’t!” Other MK said, jumping on the bed and standing over him. That was... well, MK would definitely say that was a very weird but effective way of keeping someone from getting up. “Macaque already ran off without letting me stop him, I barely got him to take some backup, to figure out what in the hell is happening. You are me and I know myself and if you ever tell anyone this I will end you, but you are way too injured to be doing anything right now!”
“I have to do something, Other Me-”
“No, oh no I hate that, just call me Blue,” the other MK said, the scowl on his face softened ever so slightly once again. Just slightly. “It’s a lot better than ‘other me’. And there’s nothing we can do until Macaque gets us some answers.”
"So... what, Blue? Am I just supposed to sit around and wait for someone to come and rescue me if he finds nothing!?" MK snapped, grip on their staff tightening so much that their knuckles paled and creaked in stress. "Just do nothing while who knows what happens to my friends!?"
"No," Blue said, placing his hand on MK's shoulder and frowning when the other shrugged it off and curled in on themselves. "But hurting yourself isn't going to help you get back to them. And as long as you’re here you’re my responsibility.”
“I’m a grown ass adult, you should know that.”
“Yeah, well, dying generally puts a damper on things and you’re not so adult that you can’t escape death,” Blue said, letting himself fall back into a sitting position on the bed. “Unless you got to keep your invulnerability or something, but given the crack in your noggin that doesn’t seem... like...” Blue trailed off, looking at MK with an odd expression. “... are you ok? Like. Emotionally?”
“Huh?”
“You’re crying.”
MK wrestled with one of their hands to free it’s iron grip on the staff (not their staff, their staff was gone, they had to remind themselves that their staff was gone and... and so was so much else), raising to their cheek to discover that at some point in Blue’s retort they had indeed started crying.
“... what happened to you?”
“It’s a long story,” MK said, wiping their face on their arm (they now realized they were wearing hospital dressing). “I...” They grabbed the staff with their now free hand again, twisting the grip carefully and freeing the iron hold their other hand had. “Can I just... keep this for a bit longer?”
Blue looked at MK, looking between the other him and the staff that was rightfully his before sighing and rubbing the back of his neck.
“Not like I need it right this second,” he said, his scowl vanishing completely as he stood and yanked over his backpack and put it back on after he pulled a baseball cap out and squished his hair into it and pulled it down to cover his face. “There’s gonna be someone here with you at all times until you get out, just to keep you in the loop of what’s going on here. We’ll figure out where you’re staying if Mac doesn’t figure out a way to get you home by tonight.” He moved toward the entrance to the room, turning back before opening it. “I’ll be back, I gotta restock my bag. There’s a couple people who wanna talk to you already... don’t... freak out.”
Before MK could ask what Blue meant the young man opened the door and slipped out, talking to someone just out of his line of vision before running off down the hall.
And then they saw the overly familiar sight of Pigsy and Tang... except they weren’t.
Pigsy, their Pigsy, was always in a chef’s uniform unless he was sleeping. Rough edges softened when he smiled or looked at MK or Mei with that exasperated look that MK knew meant he cared. Tang, their Tang, was a scholar who looked the part in every way, old fashioned clothes and books in hand. Always smiling when he could manage it and carefree.
This Pigsy was.. soft. And fluffy. Literally soft and fluffy. And wore oversized sweaters and smiled in a way that fit more on someone else’s face but felt right at home on his. This Tang was...
Well, the only way MK could think to describe the man before them was “skinny biker with probably hidden muscles who would kick your ass”. He looked the same but his hair was more wild, sunglasses pushing his bangs up, decked out in a (probably fake) leather jacket... but he had the same scarf.
And he and Pigsy were holding hands.
“I suppose you already know who we are,” the biker version of Tang said, smile on his face very awkward and seeming somewhat forced in a “I don’t know if this is helping but I’m gonna try” kind of way. “And we know who... you are. Kinda.”
“Yeah,” MK responded, thinking for a moment back to when he was found on the beach. “Were you... were you the ones with Blue, the other me, on Mount Huaguo?”
“Yeah,” the soft Pigsy said and... wow, hearing that voice say something so gently so casually was throwing him through a loop. “M-Blue was convinced we needed to get out of the city for the day and brought us along for his training. We didn’t expect to find... well, another him...” Pigsy frowned, the first one MK saw on his face and it felt so much more openly worried than their own Pigsy’s scowls. “How are you feeling?”
MK looked down at the staff in their hands, then back up to the two men in front of them.
They weren’t the two people MK considered father figures. They weren’t. But they were. And as MK tried to process this they felt their breathing speed up faster and faster and faster until-
“Hey,” Tang said, gentle and soft voice breaking MK from their racing thoughts as he reached out to put a hand in MK’s hair but stopped himself short. Probably in remembering that they weren’t Blue. “You can stay with us if you want. Once you’re discharged and if you need somewhere to stay.”
Well... that didn’t help at all.
No.
Instead it opened the floodgates and MK started crying harder than they had since the final fight with the White Bone Spirit, curling in on themselves as the last few days and what had transpired really hit them.
“What the FUCK did you do!?” He heard his own voice shout from the doorway.
~
It looked like PIgsy’s apartment. But not.
MK’s hands clenched at air, wishing they still had the staff for comfort. But no, they insisted that Blue take it back when they were discharged.
Blue was still the Monkie Kid after all. He needed the staff to fight.
MK... was just MK here. And they couldn’t fight, not while recovering from their injuries anyway.
But oh how they wish they hadn’t given it back. It felt so right and yet so wrong to hold it. They didn’t realize how much they had grown attached to the object until it was...
“MK?” Once again Pigsy’s voice startled him, not for the first time since they arrived at the apartment and MK took up the extra bedroom that this world’s counterpart had once stayed in until the apartment above the shop opened up for them. “Do you need anything?”
“No,” they responded, hands gripping the edge of their jacket in an attempt to hold something solid. It wasn’t the same. “I can handle myself.”
“I know you can, but you don’t have to,” Pigsy said, coming into the room holding a cup of water and putting it on the nightstand. “And you don’t have to talk to us, if you don’t want to... but it’d probably help. Even if you just ramble about something.”
Had this been the other Pigsy he probably would have something something like “You may technically be an adult, but you’re still my child”. Something firm and gruff and filled with underlying affection for the younger adult. But this Pigsy... there was some of that there. A firmness to his words, though the gruffness was missing. But he could feel the affection he must have had for Blue transferring to themself, the knowledge that they weren’t the same person holding most of it back.
But it was still there.
And MK hadn’t really talked to anyone since the short lived argument with Blue.
“... You uh...” they started, chuckling quietly as they twisted their fingers together. “You said you own a flower shop? My Pigsy, uh... he, runs a noodle shop.”
It wasn’t going to help. MK was certain that talking about their family and friends and how different they were would probably make how he felt worse.
But sitting there and ignoring it would make it worse far quicker in their mind.
So MK talked. For hours. Eventually Tang joined the two, both listening as MK recalled all the differences and similarities and...
Well. They listened. Just like their own Pigsy and Tang would.
... they wondered if they would ever get to go back.
#monkie kid#lego monkie kid#fanfic#gen fic#inverted au#crossover#mk#Qi Xiaotian#six eared macaque#pigsy#tang#freenoodleshipping#(implied)#MK is having a BAD day and eventually all your emotions catch up to you and you break like a dam#i used they for mk and he for Blue because it got very confusing writing the two of them without referring to their clothing color constant
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