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dominimoonbeam · 1 year

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The Truth In Your Skin

Chapter 3 is a sweet holiday party! @taelonsamada gave me the idea since I was struggling with fluff ideas for Solstice Week.

I also added a slow burn tag to this fic because David/Darlin are inching along...

The Truth In Your Skin - 3

posted here and over on ao3.

Darlin stood in the bathroom at the bar and tried not to think about crawling out the window and making a run for it. No. No. They were not chicken. They had shown up, they would stay.

Oh god, but it had been so hard to show up. It had been so hard to get out of their car and walk into that fantastic dive of a bar decked out with an assortment of cheap holiday decorations.

Asher’s eyes had about bugged out of his head when he saw them, almost falling out of his chair when he got up. Sweetheart had pointed and laughed at him like he might as well have. There was no going back then. And there was no climbing out the window now.

They washed their hands and went back out. David and Milo had arrived, filling out the table with a seat left for them. At least it was in the corner. At least they didn’t have to wedge into a booth and deal with that trapped feeling.

They’d only been working at the shop for a couple of months but it was the season and they had always got together at the same bar on the same night afterwork ever since it opened. Tradition. How could they blow that off? What if they took it as a sign that Darlin didn’t want to work with them? That they were never going to say yes to any of the weekly invites Asher or Milo threw their way?

They hadn’t said yes to any of them. They had stopped saying no though. They shrugged and sometimes say maybe. They really meant that maybe the last couple times too. They wanted to go almost as much as they didn’t want to go. They didn’t used to shy away from people before. They weren’t this person.

Maybe that was what had convinced them to push themselves into going to this get together? Plus it was out in public and not at anyone’s house.

Darlin sat down at the round table between Asher and Sweetheart. Sweetheart pushed a beer in front of them but never broke off in their tirade about…cranberries?

“It’s the disrespect!” Sweetheart thumped their hand on the table, earning a few curious looks from strangers but no one in the conversation seemed the least bit surprised. Milo was practically mooning over them, while Asher rolled his eyes.

“No one likes cranberries, get over it!” Asher said.

Darlin touched the beer, turning it back and forth. They looked up, half listening, and realized David was sitting across from them. For a split second, they met his gaze. His eyes were so dark and so unreadable. He looked away first and Darlin was grateful.

“How dare you!” Sweetheart gasped.

Milo tried not to smile but failed miserably. The conversation descended into a plate-by-plate judgement of holiday dishes, branching out into different family traditions, and somehow returning to a heated argument about whether cranberries really deserved their place at the table.

“If it was so fucking good, why would we only eat it once a year, Sweets?” Asher demanded, his voice raised in mock fury.

David hid a smile behind the lip of his beer.

“Asher…Are you about to tell me that pumpkin pie is shit because it’s seasonal?”

Asher thumped his beer down and jerked his chair back. “You shut your mouth…”

Milo leaned back to catch Darlin’s eye around Sweetheart. “Asher’s a slut for pumpkin spice.”

“Asher’s a slut for everything,” Asher countered, offended.

Sweetheart smirked, leaning back in their chair. “Speaking of, how is that hot guy you’ve been working on?”

Asher blinked.

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” David helped.

Sweetheart laughed, draining their beer before sliding to their feet. “You know which one, Ash…”

Asher continued to look innocent. Darlin wasn’t sure how he did that when he definitely wasn’t innocent. Just in the time they’d been working at the shop, they’d noticed how Asher flirted and how many people stopped by just to say hi to him or ask him out. It seemed that just about every time he left work on a date, it was with a different person. And yet, even Darlin was pretty sure they knew which one of his clients Sweetheart was referring to.

“I don’t sleep with my clients,” Asher said with a shrug.

Sweetheart grinned wolfishly. “Which is to say, you’re not done with that back piece of his yet…”

Asher looked away like he hadn’t heard that, but Darlin saw the hint of color creeping high on his cheekbones. Or maybe that was the glow of Christmas lights?

Sweetheart hummed and Milo rose from his chair, the two leaving the table to make their way across the room to the bar.

“Want to know how tonight is going to play out?”

Darlin tensed, the ghost of a voice echoing Asher’s in their head. “Want to know what’s going to happen tonight, Misfit?”

Darlin swallowed the beer in their mouth, eyes flicking over Asher’s face. Not Quinn. Not an ounce of malice in those bright eyes. They nodded once.

Asher’s smile grew and he tipped his beer to point toward the bar. “Milo is going to keep nursing that beer he’s holding, even though he’s nowhere near his limit and Sweetheart is going to drink more than they usually would, just a step past tipsy. And then Sweetheart will either start a bar fight or get sleepy and ask Milo to get them home.”

Darlin watched the two at the bar. Sweetheart was getting shots and Milo was at their side, the two in an endless conversation that Darlin wasn’t sure had stopped since they met the two.

“But first Sweetheart is going to push a couple rounds of shots. How do you hold tequila?”

Darlin shrugged and took another sip of their beer.

David watched Darlin work on the same beer for over an hour, even after tossing back the tequila shot Sweetheart had handed them. He was worried they’d feel pressured to drink because Sweetheart and Asher were going hard, but they seemed fine and no one pointed out their pace or tried to shove another drink their way.

The bar got louder as more people flowed in and their table crowded with empties. Darlin stood up at one point and David thought they’d leave, but instead they pulled their hoodie off. When they did, it pulled their t-shirt up their stomach for a few seconds. A flash of skin. The lush strokes of a tattoo over their left side, curling from ribs and lower, from their hip. He didn’t know if it was traveling up or down their body. He didn’t get much of a look, even in those seconds, because the sharp, hard lines of another tattoo poked out from the hem on the right side of their stomach, like pieces of broken black teeth reaching for the top of their jeans. It didn’t fit. Even at a glance, he could tell that work didn’t belong with all the delicate lines and watercolor splashes on their arm and neck. Those edges looked rough and rushed.

Darlin pulled their shirt back down into place and dropped their hoodie over the back of their chair, sitting back down. Asher whistled and nudged his chin at them. “This looks like your work. Did you do all of it?” He asked Darlin about their arm now that they were in a short sleeve and most of it was finally visible.

David knew Asher would have normally reached out and touched the arm. He was a contact person. But he didn’t, because he was also the sort of person who paid attention to people and nothing about Darlin had invited any of them to get handsy.

Darlin looked momentarily confused before realizing what he was on about and nodding. They held out their arm casually enough. “Yeah.”

Asher leaned in, honestly interested. He lifted a hand. “Can I?”

Darlin shrugged, picking up their beer with their free hand. Asher took their arm by the elbow, turning it this way and that to get a look at the intersecting designs that traveled from between the blades of their fingers, over the back of their hand, and then all the way up their arm to the side of their neck.

David’s hand flexed under the table, wishing he was the one touching that arm but not wanting to think about why. Definitely just because it was a chance to get a close up look at some good work…

They hadn’t used any of those tattoos in their portfolio. Did they really not think they were good enough or did they not want to take pictures of themself?

“You really did all this on yourself?” Sweetheart asked. David could tell they were resisting the urge to lean in on Darlin too, not wanting to crowd them.

“Yeah. Downtime gets boring.”

David couldn’t help but notice how naked their right arm looked. Not a single tattoo on their dominant arm. Because they couldn’t do it themselves? Had anyone else ever tattooed them anywhere? His mind strayed back to the hard edges of ink he’d glimpsed but he shook it off and finished his beer.

He got up to go get a new one, forcing himself not to stare and study the tattoos on Darlin’s skin, no matter how much he wanted to—no matter how much he’d wanted to since he first saw them walk into his shop.

“Me too!” Sweetheart shouted over the sounds of the bar at his back.

David tossed an arm up so they’d know he heard and not keep shouting. He wedged through the crowd thick at the bar and waited, still thinking about Darlin’s skin. He shouldn’t be. He knew that. Just like he shouldn’t be watching them work as much as he found himself doing. They relaxed when they were working, focus fixed and shoulders finally easing.

He tongued the ring in his lip, thinking about that knot of tissue on Darlin’s mouth and the scar on their cheek.

A body pressed to his back and an arm curled over his shoulder. He knew it was Asher just by the weight of him leaning against him. And maybe because who else would be that audaciously familiar with him? “Have you ordered?” he asked.

David shook his head, nudging his chin toward the bartender dealing with a group on the other side of the bar.

“Great! Order Sweets and cranberry juice?”

David raised an eyebrow and looked at his friend practically resting his chin on his shoulder. “Just juice?”

Asher nodded, grinning. “Yeah. They’d like it if it had liquor in it. Just juice.”

He nodded and when the bartender did come their way, he ordered two beers and a glass of cranberry juice.

“Are you mad?” Asher asked, voice quieter. David only even heard him because they were so close.

David jerked a little in surprise, looking at his best friend. “What?”

Asher smiled but there was a hint of doubt in the turn of his lips. “I wasn’t flirting with them.”

David stared. He had never once gotten mad at Asher for flirting with anyone. Not when they were teens, not when he had absolute shit taste, not in the shop, not fucking ever. Asher never crossed a line—he never flirted in a way that bothered the person he was talking to. “What the fuck are you—”

“Darlin,” Asher said.

David felt heat climb his neck and his whole body tensed. Asher knew. He knew something David wasn’t even willing to know yet. “I don’t care.”

Asher stared at him. No smile. His weight left David when he straightened. Finally he exhaled, lips quirking again. “Really?” He sounded like he might be taking it as a challenge, but also like he was a little disappointed.

David looked away. He grabbed the drinks the bartender had put down.

Asher knew.

Knew what, exactly?

He turned and handed Asher the class of cranberry juice, but didn’t let go when his friend took it. Their eyes met again. “I don’t know,” he said, amending his previous claim of “I don’t care” that neither of them were buying. Asher nodded at that, accepting it, but David added. “I am never going to be mad at you for being you.”

Asher’s eyes widened a little and the edges of his smile softened.

David let go of the glass and they walked back to the table.

Sweetheart was arguing with Milo over something neither of them really cared about, the conversation breaking when Sweetheart reached for the glass Ash had slid in front of them. They blinked at it, eyes already a little glassy from a couple shots. “What—” they broke off when they realized what it must be, gaze snapping up to Asher across the table from them.

“Your favorite.” Asher grinned big and went back to his beer.

Sweetheart flipped him off and then downed the whole glass in a few swallows.

Darlin laughed. It was the smallest laugh, smothered under the ruckus of the bar, but he was sure everyone at their table heard it like a bell ringing on the stillest night. Darlin had never laughed in front of any of them.

Milo was quick to kick up another mock argument before Darlin could realize they had all paused to notice it.

The night played out more or less the way Asher had predicted. Asher went home with someone who had been making eyes at him from the bar for the last half hour. He’d go back to their apartment. He usually did, if they even made it that far.

Eventually Milo scooped Sweetheart up over his shoulder and they all headed out. He promised to get them home safely, like anyone had ever doubted it.

And then it was just David and Darlin.

“Do you want a ride?” they asked, flicking a ring of keys against their palm.

They had their hoodie back on and their gaze meeting his for increasing stretches of seconds at a time. The air was making clouds between them when they breathed. It might snow.

It wasn’t so far that David couldn’t just walk it, but he suddenly didn’t want to. “Do you mind?”

Darlin huffed, almost a smile, almost a laugh. “Wouldn’t have offered if I minded…” they started toward their car. David stuffed his hands into his pockets and followed.

He was used to his truck, used to driving himself if he rode anywhere, so sitting low and in the passenger seat was odd. But sitting in their passenger seat felt extraordinary. It was their space. It smelled like them. It was honestly cleaner than he’d expected. A couple jackets and hoodies tossed in the backseat with a charger and a bottle of nail polish rolling around on the floor.

Darlin started the engine and he bit back a smirk at the rubber duck stuck to the dashboard.

Darlin noticed his attention on it and rolled their eyes, pulling out of the parking lot. “It was there when I bought the car,” they said.

“Sure,” David agreed not to ask, still smirking.

The drive was short. He wished it had been longer. He thanked them and got out.

They waited until he was inside his building to leave, and he almost laughed at that.

It started snowing.

#redacted asmr #redactedverse #fanfic #darlin/david #milo/sweetheart #asher/?#TATTOO SHOP AU #slow burn #but to balance that i might write some milo/sh steam #does this chapter count as fluff?#i'm going to pretend it does because HOLIDAYS!#and no one cried or got hit!#dominimoonbeam #<3

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ashersanity · 3 days

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— “SWEET LIKE NECTAR.”

— summary. because to whitney, there’s nothing prettier, downright satisfying to gaze upon the rosy cheeks you adopt in response to the invasive questioning, that pride of yours so amusing to patiently chip away at, piece by piece. in fact, if you could, you’d evade it altogether though that would mean defeat, wouldn’t it? and there’s nothing you detest more in this shitty world than to fucking lose.

— content warning! incest, step-cest, dub-con, coaxing, anal fucking, cream-pie, nipple sucking, lots of uh.. dirty talking, I got carried away there, big brother whitney gets a taste of his own medicine, male reader turned bastard himself, the shittiest writing known to mankind. this is a continuation to the first part ‘it’s all in the family’ which you can find here.

— word count? I freestyled that shit once again in the notes app, it is my sanctuary and you cannot take it away from me, alright?

— asher’s note. “I find that revenge is only proper and that sometimes, you need to take matters into your own hands and fuck your stupid, arrogant, big brother. balls deep.”

Moreover, you should’ve probably have expected this one measly question to slip past your older brother’s lips, leering gaze openly taking your conflicted expression in as if taunting you to properly answer. You wouldn’t lie to me, would you? ‘Course not, like you could anyway. He’d see right past it like he usually does, testing the waters — he’d call it, laying out the fresh bait for your conscious little self to latch onto immediately.

Because to Whitney, there’s nothing prettier, downright satisfying to gaze upon the rosy cheeks you adopt in response to the invasive questioning, that pride of yours so amusing to patiently chip away at, piece by piece. In fact, if you could, you’d evade it altogether though that would mean defeat, wouldn’t it?

And there’s nothing you detest more in this shitty world than to fucking lose.

Especially to this one bastard. Too damn nosy to discreetly mind his own business, y’know? Always the one to hover too close for comfort, bated breath feathering delicately against the soft skin of your flushed ear, to keep you tightly on edge. Long past that, it’s starting to get on your nerves how self-assured he is in his flawed reasoning, simply since he had you sloppily suck him off once on the worn couch and now, it’s what? Only natural to drag you around like some sort of thoughtless puppy? Shamelessly refer to you as his trained, little bitch who’ll get on his knees for the right price?

Gotta be fucking kidding then.

It was the alcohol. Nothing, but the intoxicating substance drumming along your veins that had you act in such a debauched manner, had your painfully hard cock straining against the front of your pants. Yeah. Right? That’s all there was to it. Nothing more.

At least, that’s what you keep insistently reminding yourself of despite the growing, churning heat in your stomach, the not-so-subtle twitching of your hardening cock stirring beneath your ripped jeans or the individual droplets of sweat gently trickling down the navel of your slouched back. Alright, keep fucking lying to yourself then. Surely that’ll help you with your current predicament that you’ve stuck yourself into, muddied foot deep within the shallow trenches and a solid grasp firmly placed around your ankle, threatening to snap your dignity in half.

“Well?” Visibly irritated by your lack of answer, it’s Whitney’s increasingly impatient, snappy voice that unfortunately draws you back from your spiralling calculations — whether to respond with the humiliating truth or not. Can’t let it go, can he? Hence why he so nonchalantly has you sat on his used bed, the rusted springs hidden beneath the dusty mattress alerting your every subtle movement with a distinct creak reverberating through the thin walls.

“Well, what?” Idiot, you know very damn well what he’s getting at, it’s not like you suffer from some sort of amnesiac disease to utilise cluelessness and have him fooled with such blatant tactics.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” Should be wiping that snide, awful smirk that instantly appears on his face as he carelessly articulates the question once more. Shameless in his pursuit, hungrily eyeing you up and down like an untouched piece of meat to greedily feast upon, sink his pearly, white fangs into.

Oh, thank the heavens that you weren’t consuming any sort of liquid right this moment because it would’ve been shot straight out of your throat, maybe your nose even considering the absurd sentence from your very own brother — step-brother, to be exact. Still in denial that you two could potentially call each other family, far too homely of a term than the puzzling relationship you both share. Speaking of, you haven’t replied to his question yet and by the looks of it, he isn’t looking too pleased with you if you were to stretch this on any further than it should be.

“N-No, I’ve actually fucked my fair share of girls.” Oh yeah, he’s definitely believing you with that stuttering, the uncertainty all too evident in your tone that only a complete, utter moron would’ve fallen for it. Fucking liar. It wasn’t as though you were entirely lying though, having indeed fucked a girl before, but does it really count if that same person were to be your younger sister, Kylar? At most, you’ve had your decent amount of experiences with others, dated a few girls here and there which is to be acceptable for the average boy of your age. However, beyond the intimate acts of holding hands and bashful kissing, you remained oblivious to the process of well, sex — save for the over the top, raunchy porn you’d occasionally watch and that sole encounter with Kylar that taught you far more than any cheap film ever could.

So, it’s still reasonable, is it not? Though this is Whitney you’re directly dealing with and you know better than to assume he’d take plain ‘no’ for an answer, often brash in his selfish desires. No, more like every time whenever he does act, it leads up to the very same, repetitive situation you’ve familiarized yourself to. You, beneath him. You, helpless in the face of his cruel actions.

Not this time though — fuck, that nasty, little scheme of yours slowly, but ever so surely lurking within the depths of your working mind, grateful for the blonde’s clear ignorance of the shit you were ready to commit to regain that minuscule shred of dignity back. None the wiser, preferring it’d remain that way.

And he can only sharply scoff back to your half-assed attempt at muttering obvious falsehoods. Too cunning of a bastard and god, does it mess with you. “Bullshit. You think I’d believe that? Fuckin’ cmon, admit it. You’ve never really fucked a girl before, huh?” That sickening, creeping nausea steadily filling the depths of your guts from the way he so arrogantly taunts you through his ‘light-hearted’ insults, inadvertently painting you as some sort of virgin loser that never so much as had the slightest chance of growing affectionate with another woman. Fucked your goddamn sister so that’s a one-up on you, huh? Hell, you know better than to let such an obscene admission escape you — since she’s your sister now too, that innocence you so greedily stripped away that one faithful evening within the four corners of her room.

Rather not indulge in such sinful thoughts at the moment, not when your prolonged silence is only confirming his self-righteous suspicions to which he so stubbornly convinced himself of. Knowing better than to reason with your older brother, it’s merely when you do finally relent with a reluctant nod of your head — still maintaining a thin layer of deceit, mind you — that his smug grin widens considerably in return. “So you’re an unused slut, basically.” Choice of words never was the delinquent’s forte, but his crude, frank vocabulary certainly is as he so eloquently puts it. “Hah — I fuckin’ knew it. Wouldn’t be cumming so quickly if you weren’t.” He huffs back in amusement at the sight of your apparent fluster, always so damn squirmy whenever he playfully pokes fun at one of your concealed insecurities. Oh, you really don’t know the dizzying effect you have on him, do you?

The numerous nights spent lazily fisting the base of his cock underneath the woollen covers placed over his bare, sweating body to at the very least obscure his depraved actions — not that he cared much whether he was scandalously caught or not. Much so, he’d prefer if it were you to ‘coincidentally’ walk in on him mid-jerk off session, lend a helping hand to big brother and let him use you however he saw fit. Fuck, yeah. That’d aid him in his ever growing lust for you, borderline animalistic in how he addictively sought you out as expected, like a sweet, sweet drug longing to be taken. A sweet nectar freshly ripe for the taking, plucked free from the gracious buds of the tree to gratefully sink his fangs into and savour the refreshing taste lingering on his tongue.

Feels so right to defile your prudish self, doesn’t it? So, don’t blame him then. Don’t blame him when he suggests — no, coldly orders you to strip off your damn pants which prompts another gaping stare of yours to the sudden command. Handsome, but so, so clueless, aren’t you? Needs to tell you to do everything for your sluggish brain to eventually catch up to his ever approaching rhythm, cocky grin plastered onto his lips signalling that your step-brother is indeed not kidding around as per usual.

“What’re you waitin’ for? I said, strip.” It’s not a gentle reminder nor a well-intentioned push in the right direction, it’s a repeated warning of his thinly veiled frustrations peeking its way through, past the useless restraints he placed onto himself when he could easily be given what he’s wanted. Not without force, though that is in Whitney’s nature to be as rough as possible, having grown accustomed to things going his way whenever he inevitably turned to bloodied brutality. After all, the bully doubts so himself that you don’t furtively desire this all the same too, conflicted movements headed towards the leathered loop of your belt as you willingly comply as tasked to. Good boy, knew you had it in y’a.

“Do I really gotta do this?” If it weren’t for the pretty, pink flush adorning the entirety of your face right now, your older brother would’ve definitely snapped back with a snarky remark of his own, however the sight itself is enough to let him have your dumb self uselessly hope a little further. What does it look like, little brother? Has Whitney ever backtracked on his truthful words?

“Yeah, you gotta cuz’ I told you to. Now just fuckin’ do it already, slut. I don’t got all day.”

“..Fine.” Having fully predicted such a response, heavy shoulders slouching lazily in defeat from the refusal, you shyly carry on with the clumsy strip tease of yours. Can never get your way with him, can y’a?

Goddamn it, shamefully reprimanding yourself for even following suit to his harsh retort though, can you really blame yourself? He’s got you — fucking, trained you like a dog. That’s what it is, a stupid, dumb mutt that can’t help but intrinsically cave in to its depraved instincts as his rightful owner happily taught him to, mindlessly huffing and wagging its fluffy tail to the sugary sweet praise whispered to him. Conditioning you to his every whim as a promising, rewarding treat awaiting in exchange for your dutiful obedience, not bothering to keep your remaining underwear either. Big brother knows best, huh? Look at that pitiful expression etched along your features, averting gaze straying away from his piercing own that’s settled precisely on the drooling tip of your fat, twitching cock dribbling out an alarming amount of pre-cum. How you resist the underlying temptation to automatically press your legs together, denying Whitney of that upfront, perverted view of your spread thighs. So damn easy to get you riled up in a matter of seconds when a tight, warm hole is involved in the filthy equation.

As ensured, you’ll receive as you wish, pup. Only natural to fulfill what you so gravely desire when you’ve been so good so far, right? Offer you the bearing fruits of your well-earned efforts in return while you thoughtlessly salivate over the mere idea, yeah?

“Whitney, this is kinda embarrassing..” Kinda? Practically humiliating to display yourself so lewdly like this, however not as if you hadn’t experienced this rarely either in the past few weeks that steadily transpired. Should’ve grown used to it by now, actually. Still, the lingering shyness of brazenly exposing yourself like this was too much to bear at times, especially with the other’s daunting ogling. Really has to unabashedly eye-fuck you every single time or something. It’s.. somewhat flattering to be thoroughly appreciated like this despite instinctively knowing it’s out of pure, utter objectification.

Aimlessly losing yourself in the middle of your straying thoughts, it’s the recurring shuffling of fabric carelessly being thrown onto the wooden, creaking floor that draws you back to the hazy reality before you. Fuck, a wet dream is a far more suitable term with how this is stereotypically playing out, the confident, sure movements of your older brother’s calloused hands busying themselves with the hem of his waistband and — oh, he’s surely tugging his sweats down, okay. His.. fucking dick, god — how didn’t you conveniently notice how rock hard his cock was beneath that cotton thin material? Leaving you to breathlessly gawk at the free view of Whitney’s drooling tip roughly smacking against the tensed muscles of his stomach, briefly connecting strings of pre-cum to meld with his cooling sweat. Retaking that relaxed, slouched position along the single bed as if he isn’t currently stark naked in front of your unmoving eyes. That distracting to you, huh? Horny mutt.

“Like what you see, slut?” That fucking conceited tone of his makes you want to respond with anything but an affirmative yes, though through the thick lump you swallow down your throat, it’s the muted nod of your head that further serves him to grin widely in satisfaction. Wanna prove him wrong so badly, so damn so. Yet, how can you when he’s shown you all the reasons not to?

Should’ve been paying closer attention then, baby brother. How your brain immediately shuts off in a haze of confusion, numbing static prickling at your empty mind once the blonde instead settles himself comfortably onto your awaiting lap. “Fuckin’ nice seat.” Would’ve been a more comedic remark if it weren’t for the provoking press of his bare ass flush against your pulsing cock, questionably twitching in approval from the brief physical contact. Christ, get a grip on yourself, you moron but, oh — Fuck. You could just.. fucking slip it in and it wouldn’t hurt to let Whitney take the lead as predicted, greedily relish in the slippery warmth fervently welcoming you? Since at the end of the day, you’re just a man, no? A simple man with stupidly horny urges and needs to gratefully sink his cock into the nearest wet hole that merely happens to be his big brother’s whorish one.

Still, that portion of your mind beckons you to reason along with the weirdly alluring pull of plainly muttering out fuck it, shove it in and— and, do the nastiest shit possible, y’know? Yeah, you should do it. Actually, no. No way in fucking hell should you proceed with it. Uselessly humping your hips upwards with a sickening jolt that draws a relieving sigh from the both of you. Stop it, you pervert. You’ve become no better than him, have you?

“W-What’re you doing..?” Is all you can pathetically muster to his blatantly obvious actions, knowing full well what he’s truly doing. Riling you up. Teasing along the edges of your withering limits till it collapses fully onto the ground. It’s what he does best, driving you insane on the daily from school, to outside, to home and his room you frequently pay visits to at night.

“What does it look like I’m doin’? I’m about to fuck your cute cock, pretty boy.” Pretty. Ah, that shouldn’t be your main focus with how he announces it so casually, essentially admitting he’s planning to ride you. Struggling to grasp onto the foreign concept of him, well— being on the receiving end of sex. Doesn’t he like, usually prefer to be the one in the dominant position? In fact, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he had selfishly decided to fuck your ass next, fill it to the brim with his seed. Yet, here he is, contently rubbing himself on your flushed, oozing tip, swearing gently as it barely grazes against his puckered hole, thoughtlessly clenching around practically nothing. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m only doing this to stake my claim on you, alright? Not fuckin’ fair if some bitch gets to fuck your virgin dick first so, hah— I’m making you into a proper slut. My slut.”

Very convincing, Whitney. Not so much so when he’s shuddering eagerly above you like a man about to be given the slightest taste of heaven itself, namely your cock it seems. Hot. Shit, it is a pretty hot sight, you’ve gotta admit.

So, is this purely a flimsy excuse of his to fuck himself stupid on your dick? Need that much to blindly persuade you he isn’t some sort of drooling cockwhore deep down? Nice try, big brother. Well, you can effortlessly see through his nonchalant act, the barely discernible, rosy flush dusting along his cheeks confirming his secretive, depraved and filthy desires simmering deeply within his core.

“Fuckin’ — ah, help me put it in already.” The resounding gasp escaping him is so breathy, so unlike the dominant, assertive Whitney you’ve familiarized yourself with that your lethargic brain hardly registers his direct order, sounding more like a frantic plea than anything else. Put it in? The little, stuck-up bastard is having difficulty sliding it in, resorting to your aid to lend a helping hand to his futile struggles? That’s cute. The indiscernible trace of a smirk beginning to form onto your lips from his uncharacteristically submissive demeanour, still withholding a decent amount of control in this situation here. Ah, what’re you even saying? He’s given you full leverage to wreck his tight, little hole as you happily please, fuck yourself deeper in that wet warmth you’ve been subconsciously seeking out. You’re the one cupping him within the palm of your hand, oddly contented with this newfound revelation, this switch of power dynamics.

“Can’t you put it in yourself then? It’s not that hard, is it? You’re the one always wanting to do everything so I think it’s only fair you do it.” Indulging in the scowl that appears shortly on his straining features only to dissolve under another one of his tough exteriors. “Fuck, you want me to? Can’t put it in yourself, huh?” He counters snidely, grasping for the bottle of lube conveniently placed on the night dresser nearby, accompanied by barking out a sharp huff of laughter as you cuss out loud a fuck! from the cooling, sticky mixture squirted plainly onto your cock.

“Shit! That’s cold! Why’d you pour it on me? Aren’t you supposed to put it in your— y’know? Your—“ Pausing bashfully in your tracks, immaturity running so deeply you couldn’t even properly stammer out the term if you wished to.

“My what? My ass? I’m not putting that in there, I can fuck myself on your cock just fine without that crap.” Lewd. That’s so lewd how he outwardly states it, blazing face hidden behind your cupped palms as though such a gesture would make this alright, make whatever he’s doing — smoothly grinding on the tip of your lubed, quivering length, how his hole teasingly snatches onto your flushed, leaking cock head only to disappointingly let go again. Fuck, fuck — Fuck. Doing this on purpose, isn’t he? Intent on driving you mad before he even manages to shove it in.

But, as previously stated before, there’s nothing more you hate than to lose, don’t you?

Really, he should be the one blaming himself for your rash and impulsive movements, shouldn’t be letting out that surprised yelp, silenced by a high-pitched gasp as you finally have had enough of his provoking mockery to mutter out a sharp fuck it and drive your increasingly impatient cock right in. Head stupidly thrown back in sheer shock from the unfamiliar yet admittedly pleasurable sensation of having his tight, virgin hole stuffed full of your cock right about now. Clear outline of your entire length pulsing deep within him by the noticeable quivering of his toned tummy, which you don’t hesitate to firmly plant your palm against to draw another satisfying, strangled whimper past his lips. Whore.

“Ah, fucking shit— You’re so fucking tight. Relax a bit for me or I can’t move.” Might as well be snapping your dick in half from the unbearable clenching of his unused insides, warm insides that you’re pervertedly staining white with every glide of your forceful thrusts, every harsh slam of your hips against his ass. Can’t stop yourself though — God, no. Not when the addictive heat of his hole envelops you so damn fucking well, rendering you both to mindlessly cling onto each other, entangled bodies slick with hot sweat trickling steadily down the navel of your arched backs. Namely his. And oh, he really does feel so good. Never mind all the shit he’s done, the stingy tugs of his fists deep within your messied hair, urging you to fuck yourself deeper into his trembling frame. This is the sweet taste of revenge you’ll so dearly savour, hungrily imprinting every choked moan to memory for later reminiscing.

Isn’t he so cute too? Tightening fingertips digging harshly into your shoulders for proper stability, an immediate roll of his eyes to the back of his skull whenever you angle your hips to hit that overly sensitive spot that sends a sickening jolt up his spine. Bound to be leaving marks, though that’s the least of your concerns with how goddamn pretty he looks when fucked stupid, fucked utterly brainless to match the feverish haze of his glazed over eyes. “See? I think you secretly enjoy it, Whitney. I think you— hah, fuck — enjoy that I’m taking the lead for once. ‘S that it? You like havin’ my cock inside you, huh? Like it when your little brother fucks you?” No matter how many times he may blatantly refuse and deny it, through the clawing of his nails, etching bloodied scars into your back that are sure to reside in your skin later on— You fucking know by the squeeze of his slutty hole, ring of cream having nicely settled around the base of your cock. The cocky bitch loves it.

“F-Fuckin’—“ Big brother having trouble speaking? “Bastard, shut— ah! up!” The pitiful whine echoing deeply from his throat almost makes you want to cease your endless blabbering, but y’know what? Fuck that. May as well endure the severe consequences of his actions, from the second you had arrived here, it was bound to end solely in one conclusion. You, balls deep in his ass. You, stupidly drunk off the mere act of ruthlessly fucking your older brother cuz’ shit, does it feel so amazingly good. “If you keep looking at me like that, it only— hah, makes things harder for me here. God, Whitney.. Don’t fucking stop squeezing me, ‘kay?” Not really doing any better than him either, any semblance of control within you possibly thrown out the window with every pleasurable stroke of your cock being sucked so sloppily by his stretched out hole. One thing the delinquent was right about — You being the equivalent of a dumb mutt. A dumb, drooling mutt huffing over his bare chest, depraved instincts kicking in to suck on whatever happens to be nearest and that consequently leads to your dazed gaze zeroing in on his swollen nipples.

Pretty, so fucking pretty. It’s not fair.

Deserving of every torturous inch his tight hole greedily swallows up, the sight of his neglected, puffy nipples almost too much to bear for your watering mouth.

A little taste wouldn’t hurt, would it?

How careless of you to overlook such an area that so desperately needs your loving attention too. Bad little brother you are for that, huh? “Promise to make you feel so good.” Sighing out a guttural groan as the softened pad of your thumbs find home to idly flick at the erect glands, eliciting another strangled curse from the delinquent once again. Sensitive here, isn’t he? “Shit.. Every time I touch your tits here, you tighten up like crazy, hah. Want me to suck on ‘em too?” It’s more of a fervent heads up for your upcoming actions than a polite request, pink tongue curiously poking out to glide along the sheen of sweat settled thickly on the rosy buds. “M-Motherfucker.. Don’t you fuckin’ dare— hmph!” Hastily cut off by the palm of his own hand clasped upon his mouth, he can’t help but to cave in at your perverted antics, specifically that weird obsession of yours with his chest or tits as you so obscenely call ‘em. Shivering lightly at the rhythmic lapping at his nipples which is soon followed by the roll of your tongue against the sensitive flesh, fully latching onto one of them to appreciatively suckle on. The things you do to him, a full on body shock simply from having his pretty tits toyed with, his nipples coyly sucked on by the moist engulf of your warm mouth. “W—What?? Stop, ah, that!” How the fuck do you get to him like this every damn time?

And why the hell does it have to feel so fuckin’ good too?

Screw you, really.

Having managed to get past his carefully placed barriers he put upon himself, a means of protection for his fragile pride that you so selfishly tear away at. Because it’s fun to, an absolute power rush to intently observe your slutty older brother fall apart on your fat cock, split his ass open while you’re at it. Teary eyes threatening to spill free more droplets down the length of his scarlet cheeks, bitten lips oozing fresh blood from your nipping teeth and tongue to gently suckle at as a well-deserved reward. Golden locks becoming increasingly more disheveled from every bounce on your cock, the guidance of your hands locked firmly onto his hips to witness the disappearance and reemergence of your leaking tip to reach that one single spot deep inside him.

And it’s real adorable when you draw your hips further back only to be halted by the weight of his legs wrapped securely around your waist to prevent you from pulling all the way out, so stubbornly too. “Oh, want me to cum inside?” The derisive pitch of your laughter has the blonde simmering in his humiliating position, too caught up in the intoxicating pleasure of being fucked so mercilessly like this to bother uttering out a curse of denial. Fangs bared, seething glare shot solely towards you, it’s you. Of course, it’s you who has the final say, the upper hand regardless. As always. “I-I swear to fuckin’ god, if you pull out now— I’m going to fucking kill you, asshole.” He threatens as per usual, but the shaky incoherence of his speech riddled with whiny moans discredits his shitty attempt at intimidation, coaxing you to readily follow suit to his orders.

Ah, look at him. Fucking bitch in heat.

Can’t say no to that face, can you?

“Wasn’t planning on it anyway, Whitney.” You mutter out soothingly in the shell of his ear, slightly unsettled by the softening tone you’ve taken on to address him. Is it due to the pathetic appearance he’s taken on from your relentless bullying? ‘S not fair he gets to look all cute and pouty while you’re struggling to keep up here, stuttering hips clumsily humping forward to make up for the messy pace because ah— fuck, you’re nearing your fill and so is Whitney, by the looks of it. “You can’t—“ Cutting himself off in a soundless gasp as your balls heavily smack against his ass, mind gone completely blank from the sheer euphoria of having his hole filled to the brim. Can’t? Sure, he can handle just a little more, can’t he? Cmon, he can do better than that. Drool dripping freely from his parted lips for yours to plant sloppy kisses against, stifling his open moans. Drawing your hips one last time to relish in the tight warmth of his wet insides— really, you’ll miss it, fuck— you barely get to process the thick ropes of cum spurting out of his bobbing cock, accompanied by your own climax shortly after. “S-Sorry, oh my god— I’m so sorry, you feel too good. I can’t—“ You sputter out uselessly, a hollow excuse when you continue on with your sloppy thrusts, burying yourself to the hilt to shoot your thick load into. Staining his walls white with your seed since your hips can’t stop themselves from fucking your cum deeper, not till he squirms and swears at you to stop it altogether.

Alright, so maybe you did end up going a tad bit too far this time, but it’s not like he didn’t ask for it. Or so you mumble to yourself to soothe your ever growing worries of where this may lead after the shortly lived, euphoric high you’ve just experienced. Nervously lifting your gaze to seek his as you’re greeted with.. ah, it seems you did fuck up. If anything, you’ve dug yourself a hole so steep you couldn’t possibly climb out of it now. Okay, he looks pissed. Doesn’t mean you don’t have time to mend things between the two of you, right? It’s as you finally muster up a foolish smile to meet his sour expression, that his frown significantly deepens in return.

“..So, uh. Did you like it?”

You’ve got a death wish, don’t you?

Should’ve probably expected this one. The shockingly loud slam of the wooden door closed shut on your face, promptly interrupting your frantic pleas and apologies. Heaps of dirty clothes thrown right into your arms for you to awkwardly pick up from the floor soon after. “Whitney, don’t be like that. Whitney, c’mon. I’m sorry—“ You’re not actually all that sorry, it’s just he looks too cute when angry, really.

“Fuck off!!”

Stubborn as ever, huh? At least, you’ve got to imprint those slutty sounds to memory for later use, having gotten your answer to leave him be for the time being. And oh, glancing down to be met with the sight of your still-hard, neglected cock tented pitifully against the front of your jeans has to be some sort of revenge for your previous animalistic actions, surely. Seriously? Didn’t you just cum too?

..Well, you’ve always got the bathroom to take care of that.

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cameronspecial · 4 months

Note

can you release another let me,angel chapter on jan 28 bc it’s my birthday 😁😁😁😁😁

You Need To Talk To Daddy, Baby

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

A/N: Happy Birthday, Anon! I hope it's okay that this is after their uni days.

Masterlist

Asher runs up to his mother, who is waiting outside of the elementary school for her son. Y/N takes him into her arms and carries him to the car. She gets the six-year-old buckled into his car seat before getting into the driver’s seat. The car ride home was filled with a mini-concert between the mother and son. When they get home, they both notice the car in the driveway. Rafe swings the door open at the sound of his wife’s engine and jogs out in his work suit. Asher is quick to hop into his father’s arms. The family heads into the house and goes to get a snack in the kitchen. “Mommy, are Auntie Sarah and Uncle John still coming over tomorrow?” Asher asks with the heel of his feet hitting the cabinet. Y/N looks up from the tea she is making, “Yes, Baby. They are coming for dinner. Why do you want to know?” “Because I have to write about my hero for homework and I want to write about Uncle John,” her son announces. The sound of the knife hitting the cutting board stops at what Asher says. Y/N glances at her husband to see the frown on his face. He places his cutting tool down on the board and leaves the room.

“Rafe, wait,” Y/N tries to halt her husband. He doesn’t listen as he makes his way into their bedroom. The mother turns to her son and approaches him. “What’s wrong with Daddy?” Asher worries, trying to get down from the counter. Y/N keeps him on the counter, “I think he is a little hurt that he isn’t your hero.” The young boy’s face matches his father’s frown. “But he is my hero.”

“Then why do you want to write about Uncle John?”

“Because Mrs. Greenway said that we can’t write about our parents. She wants us to talk to other people.”

“Oh, well I think you need to talk to Daddy, Baby. Maybe explain that to him.”

Asher nods and holds his hand up so Y/N can help him down. She helps him off of the counter, watching him as he goes to talk to Rafe. Rafe turns at the sound of footsteps approaching the room. He turns in the other direction to wipe his tears away. He knows it’s a little silly to be upset about not being his son’s hero, most kids wouldn’t say their parents either, but it digs into Rafe’s fear of not being a good enough father. If Rafe isn’t Asher’s hero, then does that mean Asher doesn’t feel safe with him? Does that mean that Rafe isn’t providing for his son? “Daddy?” The tike’s voice spins Rafe toward him. “Hey, Bud. Is everything okay?” Rafe questions, going to pick his son up. Asher nods, “I’m sorry I made you sad, Daddy.” “It’s okay. You didn’t mean to, Bud. Why don’t you tell me more about your project? Do you need to interview Uncle John?” Rafe reassures his son. Asher gives a small smile, “Yes, Mrs. Greenway gave me a paper with the questions. I have to write the answer on the line. Daddy?” Rafe watches his son look up at him with wide eyes. “Yeah, Bud?” “You are my hero. I have to ask Uncle John the questions because Mrs. Greenway said I can’t ask Mommy or Daddy,” the boy explains.

A wide grin grows on Rafe’s face and Y/N watches from the doorway as her husband pulls their son into a hug. “How about we photocopy your assignment so you can interview Daddy too? Daddy could put it in his office,” she suggests. Rafe flinches at the surprise that his wife is in the room. Asher turns to his mother and his head vigorously moves up and down. “Yeah! I want to in-ter-view Daddy,” he agrees. Y/N starts toward the home office and Rafe follows her in tow. The family spends the afternoon interviewing each other and now, those transcripts are proudly displayed on their kitchen fridge.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @queen-shadow22 @victory-in-the-llama @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover

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xoxoskai · 4 months

Text

KAYDENGARETH HEADCANNONS

I like to think their book could've been called God of Misery. Why? I don't know. It just sounds cool.

Gareth has extreme OCD. As children, Killian used to mess with his things, hide them or displace them from their original place which made him develop an obsessiveness with knowing where all his things were kept.

Kayden inhales copious amounts of black coffee in a day. I'm talking 8-9 ventis.

Gareth is blackmailed convinced by Kayden to become his teaching assistant.

Kayden wanted easy access and to have tabs on Gareth the whole time, but it backfires when Gareth organizes his entire schedule, all his coursework and makes additional notes for him to go over.

Kayden is a tie hoarder. Navy blue, scarlet red, violet, turquoise, beige, you name it, he has it.

Asher thinks he's Gareth's inspiration to become a lawyer, but Gareth watched Suits.

Kayden wears suspenders.

Gareth's aim is better than most Heathens, even Jeremy. But he doesn't enjoy hurting people. The accuracy with which he throws a pencil at a teacher flirting with Kayden is impressive.

He's equally good at fleeing situations.

Kayden is the kind of professor who challenges his students to do something ridiculous to get out of writing the final exam. His students think he's cool, but Gareth knows he just hates grading papers.

Gareth's handicap in golf is +1. He has been his grandfather's golfing buddy for ages.

Kayden has a license to fly planes. Don't ask him how he got it though.

Yes, they join the mile high club.

Gareth is extremely good with cheating at card games much to Kayden's chagrin during strip poker.

Kayden is acquaintances by association with Kyle, Gareth's uncle.

Gareth has lost count of the number of times he's caught himself drooling every time Kayden takes his suit jacket off.

Kayden is more flirtatious by nature but sometimes Gareth says suggestive things that make him speechless. Most times, Gareth does it accidentally.

Kayden: *complaining about how his body is aching from sitting in a chair all day* Gareth: I can help you relax if you'd like. Kayden: Gareth: Kayden: Gareth: I have a massage therapist license.

Gareth wears reading glasses because he is a reader by nature. He can read instructions off a shampoo bottle day after day, year after year just to have something to read while he showers.

Kayden has to physically stop himself from reacting and ask for strength from greater forces the first time he sees Gareth pull out gold-rimmed glasses and put them on while he was helping grade assignments. He does fantasize about helping Gareth take the glasses and more off.

Killian is the last of the Heathens to find out about Gareth's involvement with his professor. And it's not in a fun manner.

He catches Kayden being pushy with his older brother, misunderstands and nearly pummels his face in.

He has to be thrown off Kayden who is one second away from rearranging his boyfriend's younger brother's face.

Killian is gaping when he puts two and two together about what is happening.

Before he can make a joke at his expense, Gareth gives him a look that dares him to say something or deal with consequences like never before. Killian stays quiet mostly because he's never seen that murderous look on his brother's face, no matter how far he pushed him.

"You can do better than him" he's telling Kayden as he leaves. "Not in this lifetime, no" Kayden responds, pulling Gareth closer.

Kayden participates in the initiation to pull an uno reverse and chase the green mask down. It makes some of the participants stop and stare in bewilderment.

Gareth is competitive to a fault. Like- I would edit an entire Wikipedia page to win an argument- competitive.

Kayden is not as competitive and doesn't particularly care about winning but he loves egging Gareth on till he gives him a reason to put his tie collection to good use (:

They have been caught in a situation where someone was knocking at the door to Kayden's office, opposite which they were making out.

Gareth watches Kayden roll his sleeves up with hawk eyes and almost groans in torture when he sees the protruding veins.

Once Kayden finds out about Gareth's obsession with watching him undress, he puts on a show every. single. time.

But then Gareth, Gareth with his long, slender fingers and perfectly cleaned, shaped and filed nails, helps undress him one time and Kayden is a goner.

Gareth wears a chain with Kayden's ring around his neck, something Kayden goes feral whenever he looks at. He's pulled Gareth closer with it on multiple occasions.

Kayden puts his hand on Gareth's thigh while driving.

Are Asher and Reina surprised when Gareth brings a boyfriend home? Yes. Do they care about the gender of their son's partner? No.

Even Kayden gets along better with Asher than Killian does.

Kayden is loved by Reina. Like she would adopt him the moment Asher looks away.

Killian never apologizes for what he said but he does ask Gareth if he'd like to go hunting together sometime. It's a truce that Gareth is more than happy to accept.

Kayden takes Gareth out flying to propose when they'd be over the crystal-clear waters and passing through clouds only to realize he forgot to bring the ring with him in his anxiety and haste.

He improvises and proposes to Gareth in bed, rehashing the entire thing making him laugh and accept.

Gareth then reaches into his nightstand and pulls out the ring he was planning to propose with.

"You can just pretend to be surprised tomorrow at your surprise proposal" Gareth is telling him between kisses. "I can pretend to do anything as long as I'm doing it with you."

___________________________________

Tissues, anyone?

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lynzishell · 5 months

Text

Prev // Next

Transcript:

Dawn: You’re here. Atlas: I’m here. I’m so sorry, Dawn. Dawn: Me too. Dawn reaches over to rest a hand on his shoulder. Atlas covers her hand with his, and they sit like this for a while, not saying anything.

Phoenix: Have you seen these yet? Asher: Not really. I saw a couple on Atlas’ computer when he first got home, but that’s it. Phoenix: I assume he told you what happened up there… with Dawn? Asher: Yeah.

Phoenix: How is he doing? I’ve been meaning to check in, but – Asher: Oh, no, you have enough on your plate. He’s doing okay though. Not sleeping well, but otherwise, okay. Phoenix: Nightmares? [Asher nods] Phoenix: Yeah. I remember those nightmares. Asher: What do you mean those nightmares?

Atlas: Hey, do you remember when we were kids, and we learned that some twins had their own language? Dawn: Oh my god, yes, and we tried to make our own. Atlas: Except we just made these weird random sounds and pretended to understand each other. Dawn can’t help but laugh when Atlas tries to imitate their old “language”.

Dawn: Oh, and we would pass each other notes in our secret code. Atlas: [laughing] There’s no way anyone was cracking that code! Dawn: That’s because there was no code! We’d just write symbols on paper and pass them back and forth [laughing] and I put so much effort into each one! Atlas: I know! There’d be thirty or forty intricate symbols on a piece of paper, never the same one twice. It was impressive, actually. Dawn: We thought we were so clever.

Phoenix hears muffled laughter coming from the bedroom and smiles at Asher.

Phoenix: He’s always going to be better at that than me, isn’t he? Cheering her up. Asher: [shrugs] Probably. But you knew to call him, and that’s not nothing. Phoenix: Maybe I should’ve called sooner. Asher: Eh, we’re here now. How are you doing? Phoenix: [exhales loudly] I don’t even know. I’ve been so focused on her.

[Asher nods quietly]

Phoenix: It’s weird. It feels like there’s something missing now. I mean, we’d planned on having a kid eventually, but it always felt like an abstract, far away thing. Like something we’d talk about in a few years or more. But now. It’s all I can think about. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more. Is that crazy?

Asher: Definitely not.

Phoenix: And now I’m worried that this was all too much for her. What if she doesn’t want to try again? What if it never happens, even if we do try? I don’t know…

Phoenix: I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Asher: Sounds like you’ve been needing to talk to someone. I don’t mind listening. Phoenix: Thanks. Normally, I’d go talk to Aurelio, but I haven’t wanted to leave. She was really starting to fucking scare me. Asher: She’ll be okay. Phoenix: [clears his throat] I hope so.

Atlas: I kept one, y’know. Dawn: You did not! Atlas: I did. You had doodled all around the edges, and clearly spent a lot of time on it. I don’t know, something about it felt important, like I needed to keep it, so I did. Dawn: Oh, I bet I know which one it was. Atlas: Yeah? I’ve always wondered, what does it say?

Dawn: Hold on let me see if I can remember it… [thinking]… Okay I got it, ready? Atlas: Yep. Dawn: It says, ‘Today I am sad / As long as you’re my brother / My heart will be glad.’

[Both laughing]

Atlas: Stop! You wrote me a haiku? Dawn: I tried. I counted and recounted the syllables so many times. Atlas: Dawn, that is so sweet! I’m keeping it forever.

Dawn: Aw, I’m glad you’re here. Atlas: Me too. Asher’s here too, and we brought his dog. Do you want to come out and say hi? Dawn: Yeah, I’d like that. Can you stay for dinner? Atlas: Sure. Gimme a hug first though. I’ve missed you.

Atlas: Listen to me. Don’t start shutting people out again, okay? Dawn: I know. I didn’t mean to. I just… I couldn’t stand to see the pain I’ve caused him. Atlas: You didn’t cause anything; it wasn’t your fault. And he needs you now just as much as you need him. Dawn: … Is he angry? Atlas: No, he’s just worried.

Atlas: It’s okay if you need time to grieve, but you’ve gotta eat. You have to take care of yourself. Dawn: I will. Atlas: Promise me. Dawn: I promise.

#ts4 #ts4 simblr #ts4 story #sims 4 #sims 4 storytelling #sims 4 challenge #starsignchallenge #starsignlegacychallenge #gen1 aries #aries pt3 #phoenix realta #dawn stephens #atlas stephens #asher goode #jasper goode

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steamberrystudio · 9 months

Text

27/08/2023

So now that Gilded Shadows is wrapping up, I am promoting When Stars Collide from "Spare time project" to "Part time project"

What is the difference? Well, when I work on something in my spare time, that means it is late at night or the weekend. Literally when I am not doing anything else and just feel like tinkering with it.

As a part time project, this means that I will be spending an hour or two each day during the work week to do things for this project. It will start making more steady progress even if I'm not focusing on it full time.

This is basically taking it from me spending 0 - 4 hours on it a week to 8-10 hours on it a week.

My goal is to have the draft complete before the end of the year (by 'draft', I mean 'rough draft'). But more on that below.

Summary

Finished all scenes for the new chapter three

Finished Yren chapter 6 scenes

Started catching Kav's route up to the others

Edited Asher's CG to account for the new conference room BG

Small adjustments to Wil's first CG

Ramble

This week my big focus for WSC has been on writing. As I mentioned, I really want to get the rough draft completed by the end of the year. Currently the draft is nearly 70% complete (for those following updates in multiple places, when you see different percentages....it's because I've written more since then. Rofl).

Now, the draft was nearly 70% in the past as well but I added another route since then, so I lost some progress due to the increase in target word count. I'm also calculating things more precisely now as I created a newer and fancier writing spreadsheet to track my progress and keep myself on track.

I went back and wrote in the new chapter 3, reorganising all the existing chapters and scenes to accommodate it.

I finished Yren chapter 6 (which catches him up to Noel and Raif).

And now I'm working on catching Kav, the new character, up to Yren, Noel, and Raif. (Remember, Daaz and Asher's routes are already fully drafted).

I have written about 15000 words since my last update here. I don't expect to write that much every week and my goal is actually a fair bit more modest than that. Gilded Shadows is not 100% complete yet. I still have multiple KS related things to finish and, of course, I will be making corrections and focusing on its beta testing once testers have had a bit more time with it.

WSC is still a part time project. This was just a particularly good week for it.

I have also worked on a few other things for WSC - mostly UI related and some art related things.

I received a new BG since my last update, and realised that...I have to revamp all the existing CGs. Or at least update them to change the background elements. I've only edited one so far but I don't think it'll be too much effort to fix the others.

And I continue to streamline and adjust the UI to make it look nicer and be more efficient.

So...

Kav. The new character. Kav'isari Tiaine, a Ka'mérian crew member who works in the space labs most of the time and specialises in identifying alien technology (what species it belongs to and what it does).

To explain where Kav came from, he actually popped into my head months ago. And every so often, I would contemplate whether or not I wanted to add him. I would say I first had the idea in January or February of this year. I would repeatedly think about it and dismiss it.

I then mentioned it to a friend sort of off-handedly back at the very beginning of June. A month and a half later, I mentioned him on a voice call on my server knowing full well that if I really talked about him and had a conversation about him, I would probably end up doing enough character brainstorming that he would become "real." And I talked about him anyway.

And that's exactly how he became an actual character. I think I had his sprite sketched out by the end of that day.

But he had existed as a concept long before that. The main reason I was willing to add him instead of ruthlessly telling myself no is just that I felt there was a gap in the cast for a gadfly style character who has a little mystery to him. And I just knew I could manage another route based on the length of Asher and Daaz's routes.

So...yeah. That is how Kav came into being. His introduction into the story has caused a few minor changes to standing lore or things in the prologue (just mentions of him, etc). But the changes to the currently public content of the game are pretty minor.

Kav won't actually appear in the game until Chapter 3. He gets mentioned a few times up to that point. There are some logistical considerations to his route but I have talked about those more on Patreon.

Speaking of Patreon, now that WSC is moved into "part time" status, I will be starting to slowly release some Patreon-exclusive lore posts for this game there. Like most games monetised through Patreon content, the lore posts will not be critical to having a full and complete game experience. Rather, it is going to be comprised of additional and extra lore content.

Some of the lore content released on Patreon will be in the game (such as character back stories) but Patrons will get to see it early and will get it presented in a different format.

Much of the content can be considered "extras" rather than necessary.

I will also be updating on the development progress weekly there (available to all patrons) rather than bi-weekly, and my updates there (going forward) will tend to be more detailed than the ones here.

Once episode releases start, Patrons will be able to access them before they the public releases. But backing on Patreon is not necessary to be able to play the game and get a full and complete game experience. It's just how this particular game will be monetised as I'm looking for more sustainable release styles so I can continue to make games.

That is all for this update. I will see you in a couple of weeks to talk about WSC again!

#when stars collide #updates #amare game #indie otome

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billygoat26 · 7 months

Text

ABOUT ME!!

NOTE: Anything I say that has to do with politics or shit like that is likely to not be entirely true, so if you see that I have said something that is incorrect, PLEASE TELL ME! (Preferably in a nice way? If it’s in a rude way chances are I’ll not accept it as easily.)

Helloooo everybody and welcome back to my Youtu-

Just kiddiiiiing!

As I’m sure you’ve gathered, I am a person who likes to joke around a lot. I also tend to type/write a lot, so instead of making you guys suffer with a whole essay about me, let’s break it all down!

Name/Nickname: BillyGOAT (Elsewhere you might see me as CallMeToes or StillToes. The nickname originated from auto correct, to put it shortly)

Other Accounts: @horrorrrrrrr @vox-does-shit @the-short-king-of-hell-himself

Birthday: February 26th

Fandoms I’m in: Undertale/Underverse, Gravity Falls, TOH (The Owl House), anything to do with Marvel is awesome, Spiderverse (does that count as Marvel anymore?) Honkai: Star Rail, Helluva boss, Hazbin Hotel, The Amazing Digital Circus, Eddsworld, South Park, Sherlock (BBC version)… (This list CAN and probably WILL grow as I either join more or think of more)

What do I do here: Art. Plain and simple. Though there may be some random things I post that have nothing to do with art, I’ll mostly be posting art stuff (Edit: Oh past me, how silly you were... Now I mostly reblog stuff and sometimes rant)

More about me: Jokester, I play the viola, singing is fun when I’m alone lol, I have two cats (Maui and Loki)

I'm currently working on an AU of my own for Undertale called Ambertale. Character designs are a WIP, and once I figure all that out then I’ll work on an official comic! Just… don’t expect it too soon, life is being life and free time is on vacation lately. (Edit: So the comic has just been sitting in my iPad for ages now and I don't wanna continue it right now- might continue it when school decides to not school or when it's summer break. For now, no comic.)

With that, have fun staring at all my random posts!

Tags:

#ambertale reblogs

#ambertale lore

#ambertale side comic

#ambertale asks

#ambertale holidays

#ambertale sans lore

(anything that has to do with amber sans [example: #ambertale sans, #amber!sans, etc.])

#amber sans guide

#Billygoat talks

#ambertale fanart

#antics of billygoat and killer

#incorrect quotes / #incorrect utmv quotes

#politics

(Eventually there will be a comic tag that will be #ambertale comic)

Ambertale Character Designs:

Ambertale Papyrus by rurunyaa

Ambertale Sans by me

Asher reference sheet in progress (I think- updated version anyways)

Ambertale: A Day in the Life of Sans:

Part 1

Part 2 (coming soon)

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moonsplit · 30 days

Note

I'd love some Projects Blue head cannons, this game doesn't get enough attention. What kind of icecream do you think Asher likes?

✰ ice cream ✰

pairingミ☆ asher x reader word count ミ☆ tagsミ☆ ice cream date, asher's autistic (real!), fluffy

notes ミ☆ So I know it's just a hc about what kind of ice cream he likes, but like, I never get to write about Asher so you get more >:)

summary ミ☆ you and asher go on a little ice cream date <3

To actually answer your question: rocky road

I could not tell you why, I just think he does

BUT, in addition to that: here, have a little ice cream date hcs

he'd order for you if you asked him to

I wholeheartedly believe that if you're the type of person who can't talk in public or to strangers very well, he'd do it for you

he wouldn't even think about it if we're being honest

you'd ask him and he'd be like "oh sure, what do you want?"

no weird looks or hesitance

anyways

he doesn't like normal eye contact but he loves looking at you, so if you guys are eating your ice cream at a table together he'll end up looking pretty much anywhere that isn't your eyes

your forehead, your lips, your nose, even trailing down to your hands

kinda berates themself for it because they don't know if that's weird or not to do

if you're walking around somewhere, like a park, it's easier for them to avoid the eye contact

there's things to look around at as you two eat and talk

they can look at your face and eyes just fine if you're also taking in the scenery

he can't help but make little comments if something reminds him of a movie or animation he saw

he feels safe enough around you by now that that urge is hard to repress

(not that he genuinely wants to, he sees the way you smile when he talks about films and while he doesn't quite get why you care about his hobb- passion that much, he likes making you smile)

you get a bit of ice cream on your face and it's OVER

he'll tell you after a bit and, after your failed attempts to get it off, he'd lean over and kiss it off your face himself

and then pretend he's confused when you blush over it

"What's wrong? I was just trying to help, number 2 :>"

yes that emoticon is VERY needed to understand that man's tone

and yes, that nickname is entirely necessary

don't worry though, you get him back for it

just compliment him enough and run your fingers through his hair when you two finish eating and watch him get so red in the face

he'll blame the blush on the fact that his face is always red

to his credit, it is

to your credit, it's not always that red

I really don't think he'd offer his ice cream to you

but if you ask he'd probably find another spoon and offer you a small bite

they won't let you just kinda toss your trash anywhere and will actively go searching for a trash can to put it in

that's just their vibe to me

after you're both officially done eating your ice cream, they have no problem just holding your hand, walking and talking together

he's the type to rub circles into the back of your hand I just know he is

and also

if it's cold and you suggest it, holding hands in the pocket of his jacket <3

#callofthemoon #assignment due: project blue #project blue vn #asher project blue #asher x reader #asher hallows #x reader #headcanons #date headcanons

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hades--baby · 2 years

Text

Their Saving Grace

Summary: Angel and Tank hadn't hung out much. Not in public, at least. The times they had spent together were tucked away in Tank's dingy little apartment as Angel tried to pry into the estranged wolf's life and during the short breaks of the pack meetings that neither of them really wanted to be at. And that's why Angel was so surprised when Tank actually agreed to go to a bar with them. It's a damn shame that their night didn't really go as planned.

Note: I'm so out of practice with writing, but I'm trying to get back into it. I've been sticking with the redacted fandom, but I started rewatching Game of Thrones so I might just dip myself into that area as well haha--anyways, let me know what you guys think! And thank you for reading <3

(This work was also cross-posted on my ao3 account under hades_baby)

Word count: 5,016

“The next job that I have lined up for us was outsourced by the department for the protection of a seer named Morgan Kyne. We’ve worked as a security detail for him in the past and he requested our services again,” David explained as he handed Tank a small stack of stapled papers. “The department is setting up a meeting between Morgan and another seer, who decided to stay unnamed on our record. They asked us to make sure that the entirety of their meeting goes undisturbed and that both participants leave the building unharmed.”

Tank lazily flipped through all the papers, halting their movements to look over Morgan Kyne’s file. They quickly found that he was considered to be a very important seer and that the department had done many things to keep him heavily protected at all times. Tank found the lengthy list of safety procedures a bit odd. It made them question why this specific seer was so much more important than all the other ones the department had managed to harbor in their clutches? And why did the other seer in the equation decide that they wanted to stay unnamed on the Shaw Pack Security record?

Even though they had all of these jumbled unanswered questions, Tank knew that they would still have to work the security detail regardless of having all of the information. So, in the end, it didn’t really matter if they had the answers to their beloved questions.

“You and Milo are going to be watching the main entrance while Asher and I cover the meeting room door,” David continued. He tapped two of his fingers against a specific spot on the map of the department building plastered in front of them, showing them exactly where they were meant to be stationed throughout the entirety of the job.

“Is it just the four of us working this one?” Tank asked, glancing up at David with a curious look in their eye. He nodded his head in response. They grimaced and hummed lowly. “Seems a bit small for something so important, don’t you think?”

“Morgan and the department asked for something a bit small,” Milo said, quickly stealing the estranged wolf’s attention. Tank flicked their expectant gaze over to him, waiting for him to follow up on his very brief statement. He always followed up with more after saying something so short and blunt. They’d noticed that he’d been doing it since high school. “They’re trying to keep whatever they’re setting up all hush-hush. It’s supposed to be a subtle job.”

“Well, if that’s the case, are you sure you want me staking out the entrance? I don’t really scream… subtle,” Tank said, furrowing their brows while giving them a knowing look.

“Neither does the alpha and beta of the Shaw Pack standing at the front of a department building,” David retorted.

“Fair point.”

“Hey, Tank!”

Now, that was something that made Tank cringe a bit.

The last time someone had shouted their name like that in the middle of the den, they had gotten a pleasant surprise fist to the face, all thanks to Christian and his so-called “high opinion” on what was supposedly right for the pack. Tank hadn’t cared much about the fact that Christian thought they were no good for the pack or for the nasty bruise he had left on their cheek, but David and the rest of the pack did.

David practically had a fucking field day with him.

Tank flicked their eyes around the crowded room, searching for the person who had just shouted their name. Angel was easy to spot. They had just burst through the doors of the den, their figure perked up and practically buzzing with excitement. Tank raised their brows, silently gesturing for them to continue on with whatever it was they wanted to say.

“We’re still on for drinks later tonight at the Golden Growler, right?” Angel asked with a smile shining on their face.

“Supposed to leave at nine, right?” they prompted, curiously tilting their head to the side. Tank knew the answer to their own question, but they figured it wouldn’t hurt to make sure they were right.

“See you in thirty,” Angel confirmed, sending them a two-fingered salute paired with a wink before walking over to where Asher and his mate were talking.

Tank went back to skimming over Morgan Kyne’s file, but their reading was rudely interrupted when Milo speedily snatched the papers right out of their hands. They looked up at the pair of grinning shifters standing in front of them. They tried to reach for the file, but Milo jerked them further from their reach.

“Alright, what the fuck?” they questioned, impatiently waiting for an answer.

“Are you going to a bar with my mate?” David asked with a smug smirk on his face.

“Didn’t know you were the party type,” Milo teased, tapping one of their shoulders with the folded file in his hands. Tank huffed out a heavy breath, rolled their eyes, and grabbed back the stack of stapled papers before shoving both of the shifters away with a harsh playful shove.

“Piss off, would you?”

The other two shifters gave each other a look, held their hands up in mock surrender, and went back to discussing the details of their upcoming security job.

Regardless of their little teasing, David and Milo were actually really happy to hear that Tank was finally getting themself out there; especially with Angel, of all people. They were interested in seeing how the pair’s interaction would play out. And it’s not like this was their first time ever spending time together—long nights in Tank’s grungy apartment and snack breaks in the pack den were enough to prove that. It just so happened to be the first time they were going to be hanging out in a public setting like a bar.

The latest version of Tank was known to be a lot quieter in a bar setting. They were typically found sipping something strong on their own in a dark corner of the room or at the very end of a perfectly polished bar, not bothering anyone and not being bothered by anyone. The only time people had really known them to party at a bar or a club was when Quinn had an absolute vice grip on them and their mind.

On the other hand, Angel had always been known to be—what Milo had called—the party type. They were unapologetically themself at bars and clubs. They didn’t care about whether or not someone was staring at them as if they were crazy as they danced their way around the room or if they were making fun of them for ordering the fruitiest drink on the long-ass menu of bullshit cocktails that cost all too much.

So… yeah.

It was going to be an interesting night for the two of them.

Tank couldn’t deny that they were actually excited for their little hangout. Now, how was this little hangout arranged? They couldn’t really tell you. Angel kind of just burst into their life as they did with most people.

“Well, it looks like we have about thirty minutes to discuss this week’s job before you have to head out for your little party,” Milo teased one last time before returning to the plan they had been discussing moments before. Tank rolled their eyes in response before going back to listening in on the plan.

They didn’t understand why they were making such a big deal about everything.

Well, in a way, they did.

It wasn’t every day the most estranged member of the pack decided to hang out with the most ecstatic one.

Guess it was about damn time it happened.

“Ready to go?” Tank asked as they walked over to where Angel was sitting patiently on their phone. They pulled on their leather jacket and stole a glance at Angel’s phone, seeing that they were playing—what they had learned to be—Minecraft.

“Ready,” Angel said, popping up from their seat and stuffing their phone into their back pocket. “Are we taking your motorcycle like you promised?”

“Yeah, of course,” Tank said, nonchalantly nodding their head along. They remembered Angel's excitement when they offered to take the two of them to the bar on their old motorcycle. A joyride on Tank’s classic cruiser was something Angel had been begging for since they had witnessed the estranged wolf pull up on it for a late-night pack meeting a couple of months ago.

“Be safe,” David called from the table he and Milo were sitting at. The two of them had finally released the poor shifter from their meeting, noticing how they had been watching the clock for the remaining thirty minutes.

“See you later, Davey!” Angel called back as they headed out of the den with Tank in tow.

When they got outside to the glossy black classic cruiser parked near the front of the lot, Tank kicked their leg over and settled comfortably on the seat. They grabbed the helmet that had been hanging from the handlebars and held it out to Angel, who seemed a bit hesitant to take it.

“What about you?” they asked, tilting their head to the side while slowly taking the offered helmet.

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ve ridden this thing without a helmet more times than I have with one on. Sam would probably have my head if he knew that, but that’s beside the point. Plus, I’m pretty sure David would rather have you wearing that thing,” Tank said, shrugging their shoulders. They zipped up their leather jacket, pulling at the collar a bit to cover their neck. The fading bite marks soon disappeared from view under the thick material. “You’re gonna want to zip your jacket up. It’s going to get a lot colder when we start moving.”

Angel zipped up their jacket in a flash, pulled the heavy helmet on, and nodded their head. Tank looked them over for a second before a small smile pulled over their face and a soft chuckle slipped past their lips. That smile was enough to make Angel grin like an idiot. They hadn’t ever really seen Tank smile like that. Only on occasion, and Sam was typically the cause of it. So, knowing that they had just made the usually stoic wolf smile—it made them feel absolutely ecstatic.

“Come here,” Tank said, ushering them closer with a lazy wave of their hand. The quiet shifter helped adjust the thick woven straps of the helmet under Angel’s chin, ensuring everything was nice and snug. Once they figured everything was good to go, they snapped the clear face shield down into place and rapped their knuckles against the top of the helmet a couple of times. Angel was forced to duck their head to escape the rough knocking as they let out a few bits of laughter. “Let’s motor.”

Angel hopped onto the back of the bike and quickly froze, not knowing where to place their arms.

Would Tank be comfortable with their arms wrapped around them?

Would they want Angel to just hold onto their shoulders?

Would they even be comfortable with any of that?

The only time Angel had been on a motorcycle was with David, but they knew his comfort level nearly better than he did himself. They knew exactly how much they could do before their mate got irritated and uncomfortable, but how far could they go before Tank got irritated and uncomfortable?

“You’re going to have to wrap your arms around me if you don’t want to fly off the back,” Tank said, glancing over their shoulder a bit.

“Right,” Angel said with a curt nod, but their words were almost completely muffled by the polished face shield that Tank had set in place. They wrapped their arms around Tank’s torso, clasping their hands right over the shifter’s abdomen.

Tank started up their motorcycle like they had done a million other times, finding absolute comfort in the deep rumbling purr that reverberated from the massive machine. They couldn’t help but think back to all the warm afternoons they had spent with Gabe, fixing up the busted engine and vast amount of stripped wiring while his choice of classic rock played quietly in the background of the open garage.

The bike had been something that was left behind by their parents when they had skipped town and left Tank, who had been in their late teens at the time. They had wanted nothing to do with that damned bike, but Gabe had somehow convinced them to help him fix it up. He had told them that it would be a good project to take up their time and that it would be good to have something to ride around town when they really needed to, but Tank knew better than that.

Sure, all of those reasons were fair and true, but they knew that he wanted to spend more time with them, to keep them around for as long as he could, and to make them feel welcomed in a pack they so obviously felt detached from.

They had been pretty reluctant to help Gabe fix the old bike up. They hated the idea of fixing something that had once been owned by their parents. The motorcycle had become a constant reminder that they had been left behind all the same. But the moment they learned to stop comparing themself to a motorcycle was the moment they started spending comfortable afternoons with Gabe, and the glossy black cruiser became a much favored after-school project.

“Ready?” Tank inquired, glancing over their shoulder once more.

“Ready,” Angel confirmed, nodding their head and knocking the chin of the helmet against the wolf’s shoulder.

They eased their way out of the parking lot, hitting the smooth streets of Dahlia at extreme speeds. The needle of the speedometer climbed like there was no tomorrow. Tank couldn’t help but smirk at the feeling of Angel’s arms tightening around them and they found it nice to hear their muffled laughter of excitement.

Much to Angel’s dismay, they arrived at the bar much quicker than they’d like to admit. They silently wished they could’ve kept riding for a little longer, but they guessed that’s what they got for picking a place so close to the pack’s den. Tank soon pulled over, parking right in front of the buzzing bar. The bright neon light hanging outside shone across the face shield of the helmet, urging Angel to pull it off and hand it back to Tank. They hung it on the handlebars, waiting for Angel to get off the bike before they could.

“Alright. Drinks, darts, and dirty secrets,” Angel said.

“Drinks, darts, and maybe dirty secrets,” Tank echoed, nodding their head once. Angel grinned, grabbed their hand, and pulled them right into the bar.

The place was a mix of empowered and unempowered people, which Tank didn’t find any comfort in. Part of them wished they had just gone to an unempowered bar. Somewhere that would’ve been considered safer for their alpha’s mate. Somewhere they wouldn’t have to glance over their shoulder every few seconds to make sure that there wasn’t anyone trying to start some shit with them.

Not that anyone would try to start some shit with them.

No one in Dahlia would be dumb enough to mess with anyone associated with the Shaw Pack.

Well, only Quinn would have the guts to try something, but that was a story for another time.

They took their seats at the high bar, called the bartender over, and ordered their preferred drinks. And even though their drinks of choice were drastically different, they seemed to fit the two perfectly.

“Damn it,” Angel said, slamming one of their fists against the polished wooden bar as their drinks were placed in front of them. The slam of their fist should’ve made Tank flinch like a few others around them did, but it didn’t.

“What’s up?” Tank asked, casually glancing at Angel as they took a sip from their glass of whiskey. One large cube of ice floated neatly in the middle of the chilled amber liquid.

“I knew you were pretty much the definition of a badass—I mean, the motorcycle, the leather jacket, the stoic look you always have on, the cool-looking scars—and I had a feeling that you would order some sort of plain whiskey drink, but I was kind of hoping that you would break the stereotype and order something like super fruity,” Angel rambled as they swirled their own drink around with the little black straw set in their glass. “Fuck. Now I owe David ten bucks.”

Now that was enough to make Tank laugh.

“You know, Asher and Milo used to always tell me that I matched the stereotypical movie badass trope. They would always say that I was like someone straight out of a Fast and Furious movie or some shit like that,” Tank said, shaking their head while shrugging their shoulders. They took another sip of their drink, enjoying how warm their chest was beginning to feel.

“Here. Take a sip of mine and tell me what you think,” Angel said, sliding their drink over to Tank. The shifter eyed the colorful drink carefully before slowly picking it up and taking a slow sip, completely disregarding the little black straw Angel had been using. The strong taste of pomegranate and liquor overwhelmed their taste buds, making them grimace slightly. “See? Isn’t that much better?”

“It’s pretty good, but I think I’ll stick with mine,” Tank said, grabbing the heavy crystal glass full of whiskey.

“Suit yourself,” Angel said, beaming a bit with a smile before taking another long sip of their drink. They slammed the glass back down on the bar, grabbed Tank’s hand, and nodded towards the dartboard nailed on the opposite wall. “Come on. We’ve still gotta fulfill the darts and dirty secrets part of the night!”

“I’m sorry, but there is absolutely no way that David Shaw lets you call him puppy,” Tank scoffed with an amused smile and a furrowed brow. “I am never going to let him live that one down.”

“First of all, he would kill me if he ever found out I told you that! And second, I said that he only lets me call him that on occasion,” Angel insisted, giggling like a child while playfully shoving Tank’s shoulder.

“Oh, on occasion my ass,” Tank said, rolling their eyes. The amount of whiskey they had drunk wasn’t enough to completely inebriate them, but they were definitely a lot more chatty than they were at the beginning of the night. Angel liked this side of Tank, and they were interested in seeing what it would take to get them like that without the wonderful aid of whiskey. “I bet he lets you call him that and pet him all the time when he’s shifted. Secretly enjoying all of the head pats and belly rubs you probably give him.”

“The same way you used to enjoy all the same things from me, misfit?”

Tank immediately froze at the sound of the familiar voice, the multiple glasses of whiskey in their system quickly flooding away as if they hadn’t been tipsy moments before. Their laughing mood had been snatched and their senses were thrown on high alert. They grabbed onto Angel, shoving their alpha’s mate behind their back as they whipped around to face the voice that had just spoken into the night’s chilled air. Their eyes narrowed at the psychotic vampire wearing a sadistic, devilish grin.

“Quinn,” Tank snarled, baring their teeth. Angel tensed up behind them, their hands finding the back of Tank’s leather jacket and squeezing the material into their trembling fists. Tank wanted to turn their head and tell them that it would be okay, but they didn’t want to risk taking their eyes off Quinn.

“Making friends with another unempowered brat? Huh. It seems you never learn,” he said, scoffing and dramatically rolling his eyes. “Who knows? Maybe this one won’t end up like the last.”

Tank’s fingers twitched at the insinuation until they balled up into tight fists.

“Let them leave. Then you and I can settle all of this bullshit on our own,” Tank insisted as they took a single step back. They kept a hand wrapped around one of Angel’s wrists, making sure that they were still where they knew them to be. Quinn didn’t show any sign of letting their unempowered friend leave. “As much as I hate to admit it, you aren’t fucking dumb, Quinn. You’ve made some bold moves in the past, but you’re not stupid enough to go after someone that would get your head on David Shaw’s most wanted list.”

“You’re right,” he said, letting out a disappointed sigh. His eyes flicked down to the ground for a moment before looking right back at the tense shifter. “But that doesn’t stop me from going after you.”

Angel didn’t know what to do.

All of it had happened so quickly.

Quinn had mercilessly lunged for Tank and dragged them right into the shitty little alleyway adjacent to the bar they had been comfortably drinking in moments ago. Unfortunately, he had managed to snag Angel’s arm in the process of grabbing his most hated shifter and now their poor forearm was bleeding through the sleeve of their jacket. But their gash was nothing compared to what Tank had just endured to protect them.

The fight hadn’t lasted long.

And now, Tank was lying limp on the ground and Quinn was nowhere to be seen.

The sadistic vampire had fled once he had gotten the poor wolf bleeding and on their knees. Angel was just thankful that the blood-sucking bastard hadn’t gotten away completely unscathed. They felt a little better knowing that half of the dark blood staining the wet concrete below them came from his undead veins.

With that being said, they felt absolutely sick to their stomach knowing that the other half of the blood on the ground had come from Tank.

“Tank! Time to open your eyes. It’s going to be okay—you are going to be okay,” Angel rambled, scooping up the shifter’s head with their shaking hands and resting it comfortably in their lap. “I’m going to call David and then he’s going to call Sam and then everything’s going to be perfectly okay. You hear me? Everything’s going to be okay.”

Tank could tell that Angel was freaking out past the point of comprehension.

They couldn’t blame them, though.

Angel wasn’t used to situations like this.

They weren’t David, who could usually keep a relatively level head regardless of the chaotic situation.

They weren’t Asher, who could joke through any serious situation while still making sure to get his job done.

They weren’t Milo, who could switch between being a jokester and a stoic medic as he attempted to heal someone.

They weren’t Sam, who always knew exactly what to do even when the simple task of thinking felt impossible.

Tank needed Angel to calm down before anything dire happened.

Before they potentially fucking died because they couldn’t get Quinn to back off.

Before they potentially fucking died and scarred Angel for the rest of their life.

Tank’s heart was starting to slow, but they needed to pull through to make sure this situation didn’t absolutely fuck with Angel’s psyche.

They didn’t deserve that.

Not in this lifetime.

Not in any lifetime.

Fuck.

They were still wearing their goddamn leather jacket. The blood was going to be a bitch to get out. The smell, the texture, the material—all of it would be ruined.

But that didn’t really matter right now.

Angel’s hands were shaking as they tried to dial David’s number. Hot tears were streaming down their face and it was apparent that they wouldn’t be able to complete the task on their own. Not like this, at least.

“Angel,” Tank rasped out to catch their attention. Angel took a deep breath and met Tank’s blanking gaze. “I need you to take a deep breath for me and then finish David’s number, alright?”

“Alright,” they said, nodding quickly before taking another deep breath. After that, they started to dial much steadier than before. Their hands still shook, but their nimble fingers managed to type out the rest of the number.

Tank didn’t understand why they hadn’t just pressed David’s contact name, which would no doubt be in their recent call history, but they also knew that panic and adrenaline could do amazing things to the mind. They knew that Angel was trying to do the right thing and they were doing the right thing. It didn’t matter if they were taking the longer route to it. Tank was just thankful they hadn’t frozen up like most people would have.

The phone started to ring and Angel put it on speaker, their hands still shaking as they placed it on the cold concrete next to Tank’s head.

“How’s the night going, Angel?” David asked the moment he answered.

“David! I need you to come down to the bar right now,” Angel begged, their voice bursting out louder than either of them expected. “We’re in an alleyway by the bar on sixth—”

“Slow down—what’s wrong? Why do you sound like you’re crying?” he asked. The noise from the other side of the line made it apparent that he was getting up and grabbing the keys to his truck. Both of them could hear Asher and Milo asking what was wrong in the background. “Angel put Tank on the phone.”

Tank let out a strained groan to let David know that they were, in fact, already on the phone with them. Angel grimaced and shook their head at Tank’s attempt.

“I can’t really do that right now. Quinn was here and they protected me and now they’re bleeding out and I don’t know what to do!” Angel exclaimed, their panic growing with each passing word they rambled out.

“I’m sorry—what? Quinn was there?” David snapped, sounding completely distressed now. He started to move even faster than before, keys jangling louder in the background. “Are you alright? Is Tank alright? How bad are they?”

Angel looked over Tank’s body, not really knowing how to answer him. Blood poured out of Tank’s neck, chest, and abdomen. All of the crimson liquid was coming from a vast amount of gashes and vampire bites that littered their body.

“David, it’s bad,” they whispered as if Tank couldn’t hear them.

The bleeding shifter chuckled, but it immediately turned into a line of rough coughs.

“Hey, David?” Tank rasped out, hoping he could hear them.

“Tank?”

“Don’t call Sam, alright? I don’t want this to be his last image of me,” they said, swallowing hard.

David stayed completely silent on the other side of the line for a long while, thinking about how he could respond without sparking anything. Eventually, he let out a long sigh before speaking again.

“Stay on the phone. I’ll be there in five.”

Tank took a heavy breath and shook their head as much as they could.

“Fuck me,” Tank muttered. They knew he was going to call their mate regardless of what they wanted. “Sam’s going to fucking kill me himself if this doesn’t turn out to be the last night of my life.”

“Don’t say that. This isn’t going to be the last night of your life. Sam’s going to get here and he’s going to fix you up and then we’re all going to go home and everything’s going to be okay,” Angel said, clenching their jaw as they tried to get a hold of themself. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Hey, Angel?” Tank started, smiling a bit. Angel could see the blood that stained Tank’s sharp teeth. The bleeding wolf took a moment to speak up again, trying to think about whether or not they wanted to say something while David—and most likely Asher and Milo—were listening in. Fuck it. “Thanks for making tonight amazing. It’s been a while since I’ve… since I’ve had a good night with a friend.”

Angel nearly broke at that.

A friend.

Tank called them a fucking friend.

The estranged wolf of the pack, the one that nobody seemed to be able to get to, the one that didn't seem to have any friends.

“You are going to be perfectly okay and then we’re going to go out again and have another good night because guess what, Tank?” Angel started, furrowing their brows while holding onto their form even tighter than before. Tank’s eyes flicked up to Angel’s, waiting for them to continue with what they were going to say. “Because that’s what friends do.”

Tank stared at them for a long time before letting out a strained chuckle.

“Cheesy.”

“Shut up before I really show you cheesy,” Angel said, letting out a huff of laughter while tears continued to stream from their eyes. They were starting to calm down and Tank was ever-thankful for that. They weren’t sure if they could keep themself calm along with them for much longer.

“I’m sorry that all of this happened tonight,” Tank rasped out, grimacing slightly as their laughter died down.

“You can make up for it the next time we go out. I’ll let you pick the place next time,” Angel said, shrugging their shoulders with a sad smile.

They sat in silence for a while, waiting for David and the rest of them to show. Angel’s hands had been working their way through Tank’s hair the entire time, fingertips messing with the ends every so often in a comforting way. It was enough to make Tank want to close their eyes and fall asleep, but they knew they couldn’t do that.

Not now, at least.

“Hey, Angel?”

Angel hummed, waiting for them to continue.

“Thanks for being my saving grace.”

#redacted asmr #redacted darlin #redacted angel #redacted david #redacted milo #redacted quinn #redacted angst #personally i think angel and darlin would be a cute couple if they didn't already have their mates <3

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commander-writergirl · 1 year

Text

Little Family of Four

Synopsis: Five or six years after getting married, Marc finally feels like he’s were he’s supposed to be. With you by his side, he has never felt lighter or happier.

Pair: Marc Spector x Jewish!fem!reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: angst, talk of trauma, talks of difficult pregnancy

Word Count: 1,451

A/N: This takes place a five or six years from the last Hanukkah story, I wanted to write something happy where Marc was comfortable with himself, his identity, and who he’s become. Also hopefully I wrote DID correctly or as close as possible. I got the idea from the comics so fingers crossed.

Tags: @romanarose

Marc stood adjusting Wes on his hip. He refused to call his son Wesley even though it was the compromise you two had made in the form of using Wendy’s name.

You hated the name Wendall and was much too close to Randall. Marc argued that you didn’t need to honor his mother, but you just raised an eyebrow and pointed on the small bundle in your arms saying, “This is your son, I can’t even see any of my family in him at this moment after spending ten hours pushing him out of my body.”

Elias backed you up, saying how much Wes looked like Marc. Except his eyes, his eyes were all you. Bright, full of wonder. Not brown but green. The type of green Marc saw every morning when he woke up and every night as he fell asleep. He was proud Wes had your eyes.

Marc looked back at his son to see the four-year-old playing with the Chai necklace your parents had sent as a gift for Hanukkah. It was small and was on a leather cord instead of a chain. It had become Wes’s favorite thing, no toy compared.

Marc kissed his head, “Do you know what that symbol means?”

Wes nodded, “Life.”

“Yes, it does.” Marc smiled.

“I want to light candles.” Wes said having a similar permeant pout to his lower lip like Marc does, though neither of you know if Wes forced it a little more or if it was part of him growing.

“How about you help me tonight? Then we can practice so next year you can light them yourself. Deal?” Marc held out his pinkie. The only way Wes believed any promises or deals could be kept, and Marc refused to ever break one.

“Deal.” Wes wrapped his little pinkie around Marc’s.

Marc smiled and kissed his son’s cheek before tickling his belly. Wes giggled and squirmed curling into his father even more. When the two of them heard squealing, they looked over to see you walking in with Rachel.

Rachel, the compromise in honoring Randall.

Rachel, Marc’s little star. He didn’t understand how even being married with a child, your father still dotted on you and hung on to every word. But Marc understood now, from the first moment Rachel was placed in his arms, he knew he would do anything to make her smile.

“Alright, we are all cleaned and changed.” You smiled at Marc as you stood next to him, one arm supporting the baby wrap you had invested in after two months of arm fatigue with Wes. Marc even had his own when he was too busy to keep both arms from being busy.

“Sissy sick?” Wes looked down at his little sister. Marc had taken to explaining what being a big brother meant.

“No sweetie,” you reached over and stroked Wes’s curls back. “She’s just a baby and her getting bigger sometimes means stinky diapers and spit up.” You smiled as your son nodded. “Now, we should light the candles before anything else comes out of this little one.”

Marc chuckled lightly and nodded, grabbing the Shamash. He gave it to Wes as he grabbed the lighter. Wes kept a tight grip on the Shamash as Marc let the wick catch fire. Marc set the lighter down and wrapped his hand around Wes’s and began saying the prayers as they began to light the eight candles.

“Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech haolam, asher kid’shanu b-mitzvotav, vtzivanu l’hadlik ner shel Hanukkah.”

As you, Marc, and Wes finished the prayer, Rachel made a cooing noise. You smiled and kissed her head. “Happy first Hanukkah my little Rakhel.”

“She came just in time.” Marc whispered against your temple.

“Ha, two months early and four weeks in the hospital early.” You sighed and rubbed the flat of your knuckle against Rachel’s cheek. “I was so scared for a while.”

“Well, she’s here, and healthy. Wes is healthy.” Marc rubbed your back. When Rachel was born, he called his father. No prompting, and nothing but his own fear.

Elias had walked Marc through the Mi Shebeirach (Prayer for Healing) as he sat with Wes in the hospital chapel. Three days later Elias was in New York and taking Wes back to the apartment so Marc could sit with you. And then Elias came back and sent Marc home with Wes and took over watching you.

“And you are healthy my moonlight.” Marc said. You turned to face him and nuzzled your nose against his.

“I know. How are the boys?” Since the stress with Rachel passed, Steven and Jake have been giving Marc time to bond with his daughter.

They had done it with Wes, something about letting Marc bond to help with the last few steps towards what you had titled ‘Recalibrating the Mental Understanding of Life.’ It was a joke you had come up with when Marc popped the question. He got a laugh out of it since his therapist said if it wasn’t for your understanding nature and willingness to work with Marc in your relationship, he probably would have kept going the way he was before.

Of course, with everything it meant Jake and Steven fronted less but Marc assured you that he could still hear them and feel them. And you always welcomed them and still loved them.

“They are good, excited to meet the new little star.” Marc chuckled hearing Steven’s excitement and Jake’s threats if anyone should hurt her.

“Well, I miss them. So, it will be nice to talk with them.” You smiled and walked over to the couch. Marc followed and sat down, sitting Wes between you.

Marc closed his eyes and listened as you talked to Wes, letting his mind drift.

“You’ve done amazing Marc.” Marc could see Steven sitting in the library he always found comfort in.

“We’re proud of you, amigo,” Jake raised a glass, the bar setting he always seemed to fit into.

Marc looked at his own mental safe space, at one point it had looked like an alter room to Khonsu but now it looked like the nursery with Hamsas and a mezuzah on the door frame. The toddler bed and crib on either side. Somewhere he could hear you humming.

Then a thought occurred to Marc, “I know I’m getting better but... you guys won’t leave me, will you?”

When Marc looked over at a mirror his eight-year-old self stared back at him.

“We’ll always be with you Marc; we can’t leave you anymore then you can completely forget your trauma. We’ll just be... quieter.” Steven said giving a gentle smile.

“Besides this time, we’re going willingly, unlike that time you shoved us both so far down when the cracks started you couldn’t handle it.” Jake said taking a sip from his glass.

Marc winced at that memory. It had been before you met you and right after Khonsu. He remembered some missions, but Jake had confessed to having been the front of a few that needed a little more.

“We’ll be here. Besides as long as Y/N wants to see us we’ll find ways to stay present,” Jake smirked making Marc roll his eyes and Steven try to hide a laugh.

“Abba, Abba wake up,” Marc smiled at the sound of Wes’s voice and could feel him pushing on Marc’s shoulder.

“Go, spend time with the family. We’ll still be here.” Steven said with a smile.

Marc nodded and slowly started breathing as things faded away and Marc could feel Wes jumping.

Marc quickly pulled Wes down and tickled his belly. “Hey little man, you got to be careful.” Wes giggled and grabbed Marc’s hand. “Don’t want to accidently hurt Ema or Rachel.”

Wes nodded and looked at Marc’s wedding band. He began to trace the blue opal center and watch the light shine off it. Marc used to spend hours staring at it himself, finding it hard to believe that anyone would marry him.

Wes giggled as you tickled his feet. You wore your wedding ring on your right hand in the traditional place of your index finger. Mainly because even before you were married you wore rings mainly on your index fingers. So, as you tickled your son’s feet, Marc could see the rose gold ring on your finger with in-laid blue opals.

He moved closer and wrapped his arm around your shoulder and kissed your head.

“Happy Hanukkah Y/N Spector.” He smiled feeling you nuzzle his shoulder.

“Happy Hanukkah Marc Spector.” You adjusted Rachel as she began to whine and Marc watched you as you laid her against your chest, Wes moving to cuddle you on the opposite side.

#moon knight x reader #Marc spector x Jewish!Reader #marvel universe #fanfiction #Sammi writes #moon knight x jewish!reader #steven grant #jake lockley #daddy!marc spector #jewish!marc Spector #marc spector #Jewish!reader series

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agentplutonium · 5 months

Text

20 Questions For Fic Writers Game

I got tagged by the ever talented @mr-laveau, thank you veauifer for that! I love games like this actually

I think I'm gonna tag @maxpaulll because you hate tag games and I think it's funny, and also @dizzy-n-busy even though I know you don't have a lot on ao3 at the moment (I just like telling people you also write fics on top of doing cool artwork/lh), also anyone else who wants to do this can! (do it. you don't need my permission. this is a threat. /lh)

1 - How many works do you have on AO3?

41. I have no social life.

2 - What's your total AO3 word count?

168,758. Again, have no social life.

3 - What fandoms do you write for?

Currently, I write for Redacted Audio and NeXus. We don't talk about my past fandoms /j

4 - What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Welp. Let's get into this.

#1 is Natural Enemies an unfinished spider!deku x Rody Soul multi-chap fic.

#2 is Dances in the Morning a Matchablossom (Kojiro Nanjo (Joe) x Cherry Blossom (Kaoru Sakurayashiki) one shot.

#3 is Infinity another Matchablossom one shot.

#4 is Paranoia an emotional hurt/comfort Denki & Sero one shot.

#5 is Symphony yet another Matchablossom one shot.

I will not explain anything.

5 - Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! I love getting comments and I usually respond as soon as I get the email (because if I don't, I will forget they are there-)

6 - What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Uhhhh one sec I have to remind myself of what I wrote. OKAY SO I think the closest contender (I don't write angsty fics) would be The Mission a Kaminari/Shinsou fic. Or possibly even Oh, Captain, Let's Make a Deal which was something i wrote for a fandom event. The only other thing I can think of is an Imp!Milo fic where he loses Sweetheart and basically becomes the same shell that Asher is, but that one is unpublished. I don't really write angst-ending fics, I'm more start with angst and end happily. OH BUT WAS I WRONG (i was looking for examples for another question) I forgot about Space Between an Imp!Freelancer/Vindemiator fic. Oh my god, it’s not my best but fuck does it hurt.

7 -What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Oooo okay so top contenders are Four Years, Not Forever a Sero/Todoroki fic, or once again Dances in the Morning or Infinity. Those last two are in my top five for a reason.

8 - Do you get hate on fics?

I. Don't think so. If I did I don't remember. I think there was one whole comment where someone fucking pulled out one word of the fic and said "it ruined the fic" for them and "they had a hard time continuing" which i won't even get into cause it was like a one-time thing. It was a rediculous comment in context anyway.

9 - Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don't, I want to, unsure if I'll ever post it though.

10 - Do you write crossovers?

No? I definitely don't now but I think I've gotten close in the past.

11 - Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so.

12 - Have you ever had a fic translated?

There was one offer, but I don't think it ever went anywhere.

13 - Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Technically yes, but it fell through. Would consider co-writing with someone though, depending on who they were/what the fic was.

14 - What's your all time favorite ship?

As of right now Milo/Sweetheart, but I go through favourite ships faster than I go through fandoms so I never have a real answer for this question.

15 - What's a WIP that you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Oh god, probably Eddie... The Love of My Life, or my All I Want series, just because I'm not in those fandoms anymore. I also have plenty of fics in my fic graveyard of a gdocs.

16 - What are your writing strengths?

I'd say my strengths are dialogue/describing non-sexual intimacy. Maybe my world-building? technically? uhhh that's all I can think of actually.

17 - What are your writing weaknesses?

Longer fics/keeping up with multi chaps (again, Eddie... The Love of My Life and Like Real People Do my beloveds I'm so sorry), MY FUCKING COMMAS if you read ANY of my fics I bet you there's way to many commas in it I have a problem, ummm I'd say any descriptive violence, I really wanna work on that. That's all that's coming to mind but I bet there's more.

18 - Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I am not against it, but I have not tried it (that I can remember). I wouldn't mind though I just would be VERY meticulous about how it's written.

19 - First fandom you wrote for?

Off the record? Harry Potter or Percy Jackson (shivers in wattpad days) but if we're looking at my AO3 it would be BNHA with I'm Here (yet another unfinished multi-chap)

20 - Favorite fic you've written?

Oh god, I don't even know. All my fics are my babies. If I had to pick from my published ones I would probably go with Promise Me, Please (I Promise) which is an Imp!Milo/Sweetheart fic of mine that I wrote a year ago. But I am currently working on one that might surpass that, but only time can tell.

ANYWAY I'm supposed to be working on finals but this was fun! I have way too much free time on my hands at all times, and it shows in my writing. I'm gonna go hide in a hole now.

#plutonium_rambles #plutonium_askgames

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autisticempathydaemon · 1 year

Note

Hello hello, thank you for doing these match ups for us! Never done one of these before so I'm excited to see who I'll end up with. 💕

- What song are you fixated on at the moment? What lyric or verse, and why?

Great Wide Unknown by Pealeaf. Technically, I love the lyrics in their entirety but especially this: 'There are things we'll never know

Wish I could find a way to live like this forever

But there's a burning in my soul

And these days, it burns brighter than ever'.

As well as

'These stars were never mine to chase

I'll chase them anyway

Take me to a land far away

This path was never mine to take

Was my fate set in stone

Or just one thread in the great wide unknown'

Because after years of not getting anywhere in my life, I'm finally moving forward.

- Enneagram/Mbti:

The Loyalist, INFJ-T

- Do you love gargantuan Youtube video essays, and if so, which is your favorite and why?

Does currently watching Hardcore Singular Type Pokemon Nuzlockes count? If not, then I enjoy essay videos on revitalizing abandoned landscapes.

- What is your go-to way to fall asleep?

Laying on my side. Sometimes, I put on a yt video.

- If you had to change your name, what would it be, and why?

If I had to, I'd choose Inga, cause that's what my mom would have named me (it was dad's turn for me :p ) and I think it's a cute name.

- What is your favorite of Redacted’s audios, and why?

Torn between 'caught stealing your alpha werewolf boyfriend's hoodie' and 'your yandere friend wants to be closer to you'. For the former, I love the sweet vulnerability and the casual touches, the relaxation and bone deep love. For the latter, the way Blake helps the listener fall asleep works so well for me, him humming softly at the end... and I love manipulative/gaslighting characters. :')

- What Redacted boy holds no appeal to you, and why? Like, not the one you hate but the one who you don’t get the hype for.

Eeeh. Aaron, I suppose?

- Tell me about that one book/movie/tv show you know all the words to.

Lord of the Rings (Movie Edition). Especially Return of the King.

- Which Redacted boy are you platonically attracted to? Like- forget dating, which dude do you want to be your best friend?

Asher. Sorry, David, I hope you can share. Or Huxley. He's the actual sweetest dude who deserves the world and then some.

- Do you have a go-to thing you ramble about when you’re tired, and if so, what is it?

No, I just get grumpy when I'm tired.

- Tell me your go-to gas station and drink combo.

Eeh. Salty Pringles and a cola/orange fanta combo drink.

- Tell me about your favorite playlist at the moment.

Freelancer season 1 and Fallen Empathy Daemon. Yes, I am unable to decide once more. Outside of that, my Favorite Video Game Music playlist featuring mostly calm bgms and the occasional boss theme.

What’s your guilty pleasure media, and why?

Any type of dating game with yandere characters. I like the psychological horror aspects as well as the devotion. Is that kind of relationship toxic irl? Hell yeah it is. Do I still love games about the topic? You bet I do. Also, farming simulator games like Stardew Valley or Rune Factory.

Anything else?

Perfectionist (but slowly letting go of that), late-bloomer, creative. Whenever I have a moment, I get lost in my head, thinking up scenarios or plot for a new fanfic I'll never write. A cuddlebug but I feel more comfortable initiating and I prefer it if people ask before they touch me. I work with kids and I genuinely love my job despite the mental and physical exhaustion. I've got a very dry sense of humor and I actually love silly puns and humor.

Hope you have a good day!! ♥️

I know Fred and Bright, like, aren’t actual children (I imagine them as no older than twenty but still), but they’re basically Sam’s kids, and I just think he would more than appreciate a partner who likes kids and wouldn’t mind dating a single dad /hj

Something I think works well between Sixes and Eights (which is what I strongly hc Sam to be) is that both of you can be so… I don’t want to say guarded but careful with trust and intimacy. That shit has to be earned, and when you do get to know one another, you’ll learn how well-matched you are. Sixes are fueled by the desire to have security and stability, and Eights are fueled by the desire to lead and protect. Fundamentally, you are uniquely situated to be everything the other needs.

I also think Sam would be the perfect cuddle partner for you. Ever since that second video where he politely asks permission to lay hands, even in an emergency, we’ve known for sure he’s so careful about consent and boundaries. I can easily imagine the two of you settling down for a LOTR movie and him waiting with open arms for you to reach out at your pace and comfort level. (Gosh, wouldn’t that be so cute, you showing him the trilogy for the first time and excitedly telling him about how Viggo Mortenson broke his ankle?)

Song:

But here's a map, here's a shovel/ Here's my Achilles' heel/ I'm all in, palms out/ I'm at your mercy now and I'm ready to begin/ I am strong, I am strong, I am strong enough to let you in

Thank the lord for you, I have been waiting for someone I can match with Sam because this is my Sam song; I think of him every time I hear it. In my head, this is his internal monologue as he confesses. He’s lived such a long life of being hurt and protecting himself from more; trusting you enough to let you in, to not hurt him more, to acknowledge that risk is the greatest act of love of which he is capable.

Runner-Ups:

Milo’s a really cute possibility, because Sweetheart also strikes me as a recovering perfectionist, so I think he’d be a really supportive partner in that respect. “Who’s expectin ya to do all of that? It certainly ain’t me and damn sure shouldn’t be you.” is something I can hear him saying in his voice, if that makes sense. Also, I see your love of yanderes, hence Flyboi!Ivan. I ain’t pairing you with someone who got all them tendencies, because I love you, but we can have a little of that, the potential of the crazy as a treat /affectionate

Note: unrelated but bruh how you feelin after that Balance season finale because wowee Blake

Want a match-up of your own? Read this post, and tell me about yourself! 💌

#redactedasmr #redactedverse #redacted asmr #redactedaudio #redacted audio #redacted #busybee matches

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