#have I already posted this? probably. whatever
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NIGHT-SHIFT (p.sh)
Sunghoon, a keen and professional man between the hours of 8 AM to 5 PM. ServiceKing, a faceless and proud man between the hours of 9 PM to 12 AM. Sunghoon’s secret night-life has nothing to do with the faces he sees day after day...until it does.
or the one where you pay for a one on one call with a faceless cam guy you’ve been watching for a little while, and the next day your boss is avoiding you like the plague.
minors dni
PAIRING ― boss / cam boy!sunghoon x afab reader
WORDCOUNT― 4.5k
WARNINGS― dub-con since reader doesn’t know it’s him.
CONTENT― office setting, sunghoon is a service top/soft-dom/whatever his clients need lol
NOTE ― this was supposed to be a drabble, but i just....it needed a little more plot sorry. it's not very good, like fr this is not up to par with what I wanted... but i wrote it so im gonna post it.
nsfw tags under cut
nsfw tags― dubious consent, cam sex/virtual sex, dirty talk, masturbation instructions, umm…finger fucking, jerking off, fantasies, role-play type stuff
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
What are the chances? Honestly, what are the fucking chances?
Sunghoon sits up quickly from his relaxed position upon hearing a voice far too familiar on the other end of this call. He’s lucky he doesn’t have his camera on just yet, you’d have seen the embarrassing reaction to…well…hearing you of all people.
He knows the world can be small sometimes, but this is too small for comfort as he hears your muttered voice through the microphone again.
“So, what am I supposed to do?” You say.
“Ah, uh–” Sunghoon pauses. There’s no way it’s actually you. Can you not recognize his voice too? “What type of call did you request again?”
“Full service.” You remind him.
Oh my god. You’re into this kind of thing? That pretty, well-mannered employee of his? The one who sips coffee quietly at her desk while actually responding to her emails? The one who never shows up to co-ed parties? The one who always dresses appropriately and addresses him in a timid way?
You…just paid a cam-boy to get you off in full? Not just any cam-boy either, you paid him.
God, his cheeks are so heated at the arousing thought. Never once has he ever imagined you in any scenario that doesn’t involve excel spreadsheets and finances. Arguably, you’ve probably never thought of him all spread out fucking his fist either but…you’ve blatantly seen him do it already.
He wonders how long you’ve been seeing this part of him, how long you’ve been getting yourself off all alone while he puts on a show for hundreds, and sometimes, thousands of people.
As detrimental as this is, it’s his job to do this. You paid him to do it, just like how he pays you to do your job. He can’t be letting this hold him back. No, in fact, he needs to get this hour long session over with as quickly as fucking possible.
“Right,” Sunghoon lends a chuckle, nervous sounding on his end but to you it just sounds cheeky. “Can I get your name, babe?”
You’re quiet at first, never having done this before and absolutely not wanting this random horny guy to know who you are. Honestly, you already requested that only he turns his camera on during this call as well. As if you’d give out your real name. You give him a name that rhymes with your own instead, and there’s another chuckle after.
He knows you’re lying. Out of all the employees that are under him, you’re the one he has to correspond with the most. After all, you’ve been up for the promotion to being his assistant for the past three months. He knows that isn’t your name.
Smart girl, just like he knew you were.
“Is that so?” He tilts his head at his blank screen, watching the microphones light up with each breath. “Alright, and you’ll do everything I say, yes?”
You nod to no one, realizing he can’t see you and instead giving him a hum and gentle words of “of course.”
His image flashes across your screen just moments later. The same as his usual streams. Face out of frame, hand strong and willing, his cock out and on display– only half hard.
“Listen to me very carefully,” Sunghoon calls out to you with a low-rumbled voice, your almost-name falling from his lips shortly after. “Don’t hold your breath, you paid good money for this, and I want to hear you.”
Oh man, this is embarrassing for you to be doing this. But truly, anything at this point is better than another night all alone.
And he does hear you. Relishing in that voice he hears day to day reciting memos and budgets, only this time, you’re calling out pleasurable reactions to how he tells you to fuck yourself.
He’s good at it too. You can’t help but listen to every word, touching and massaging when he instructs you to, stopping just short of orgasm for him to ask, “That feels good, doesn’t it? Wish you had me doing it for you, isn’t that right?”
Always using the fake name. Giving you full-service by the end of the call.
Safe to say, you’re feeling refreshed by the next morning as you ready yourself for work, wanting very much to book the infamous ServiceKing again.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Fuck, he can’t even look at you. Not after the way he got off last night.
Not after hearing you moan out the way you did while he simultaneously imagined you all spread out on his desk for him. Not after hearing the fucking wet between your legs as you frantically tried to cum when he told you to.
Not after you did cum for him.
“Mr. Park–” You chime through his door, not quite noticing the way he stiffens in his seat.
God, if you had called him that last night…
“Hm?” He composes himself by acting bored and uninterested in whatever papers you have held tightly against your chest. “What is it?”
“I got the statements back from our parent company, I think–”
“Great. Just set them down on my desk.” He cuts you off, patting his desk before hoping you get the fuck out of his office before he ends up breaking office rule number one.
What is office rule number one, you might ask? Never fuck a co-worker. What’s worse is that you’re not his fucking co worker. You’re his employee.
You raise a brow at his demeanor this morning. The usual not-so-up-tight Sunghoon appearing far too distracted today compared to usual. Most mornings, he’ll at least give you a smile and a “thank you.”
“Is there anything I can get for you?” You ask with concern in your voice.
Sunghoon pauses every thought in his head as he looks at you. Narrowing his eyes and wondering if maybe he’s just overreacting. Maybe he's mistaken and that girl from last night isn’t you at all. After all, there’s plenty of people with the same pitch in their voice. She didn’t even turn on her camera after all, and she gave him a different name anyway.
Maybe he just wishes it was you.
“No, I’m fine–” He says, mistakenly calling out the fake name rather than your actual name.
You miss the way his eyes widen for a split second before correcting himself to your real name.
“Ah, my apologies. Got a little tongue tied.”
You stand there in shock. No way in hell he just called you by the name you spoofed to a cam-boy last night. Coincidences can be so weird, and being called that hit you a little too close to home.
It feels awkward in the room now and both of you play it off as a genuine mistake. Though, to you, it has to be a genuine tongue-tied version of your name. Sunghoon couldn’t possibly know about that.
You give him a nervous chuckle as you wave yourself off and out of the room with a small “It’s okay, you know where I am if you need anything.”
What he needs is to watch his fucking mouth. What he needs is to stop thinking about how you just reacted to being called that. What he needs is to pretend that none of this is happening and do his goddamn work.
And he tries. He really does. Unfortunately, his eyes go from blurs of numbers and words on spreadsheets to the window of his office. Just outside of it. You.
How is he supposed to focus after kind of, accidentally, practically fucking you? Sure, he never touched you but…it really was you. The way you reacted to that name was so telling, and he can’t help but actually check you out now.
You, with that body. You got off to him, with those legs of your spread out while staring into a screen. All alone, listening to his voice, moaning for him…and now you’re just sitting there in your business casual outfit like he’s not unintentionally getting hard.
So, he avoids you. At all fucking costs, he avoids you.
You get up from your desk? So does he, making sure that if you start coming his way, he’s walking out and in the opposite direction. You send him an email? Out of office, despite clearly sitting at his desk. You call his phone to ask a question? He forwards you to his current assistant.
And this happens for days. To the point you know that promotion is slipping from your fingers.
Naturally, you’re frustrated with the office-dynamic. After all, you’ve heard rumors of picking favorites. You thought you were one of them, but it appears that Sunghoon may just decide to try and beg his current assistant to stay with bribes of double pay.
You’re so frustrated actually. Leaving work yet again with no good-byes from the boss who used to show appreciation for how hard you worked. He’s colder than usual, he’s stiffer than usual, he’s– a fucking asshole these days.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Ping!
Sunghoon stares at his secret email in disbelief.
NEW REQUEST FROM: [your email/username]
$500 PENDING.
FULL SERVICE.
Requester note: work has been hard lately, will you help me de-stress for a little while?
[ACCEPT REQUEST] [DECLINE REQUEST]
Sunghoon hovers over the decline button for a solid thirty seconds as he burns a hole through his screen. Work has been hard for you lately, huh? Has it now?
Try being him.
He shifts his mouse to the accept button, wondering if he even needs that extra five hundred dollars. Those play-time funds...just to suffer more at work? Just to suddenly have the need randomly throughout his day to make you moan for him? Just to have the sounds of your pretty voice echoing in his head more and more the longer he ignores you?
His finger clicks, hitting the accept button as he lets out an exasperated sigh.
Why did he just do that?
Wait.
Maybe this will help him get through the work weeks. Fucking you through words alone in secret, never telling you who he is, always letting you use him even if it’s just through audio and visual stimulation.
After all, if you found out who ServiceKing is, you very well may quit. Hell, you might get him fired. Fuck.
This is dangerous.
Yet, he feels the excitement in his gut before it even hits his cock as the clock ticks. He gets to hear you again soon, you get to watch him cum again soon, he–oh, he’s so turned on right now just thinking about it.
And the time comes too slowly for his liking. He feels as if he’s been edged by the time the two of you enter the call and he’s immediately turning his camera on.
“Ah, look who it is,” Sunghoon starts, already positioning himself with a raging hard cock on the screen. “Had me wondering if you’d come back to me.”
You don’t know why your cheeks heat up, but the feeling in your gut is miles better than the frustration and anxiety that you felt throughout the day.
“I was wondering the same thing,” You speak into the mic meekly, hiding your face despite knowing he can’t see it. “I just need to get my mind off of stuff for a little while.”
“Oh yeah?” Sunghoon chuckles into the mic, his face perfectly hidden. “Wanna give me some context? Maybe I can use some of the information for–”
“God.” You immediately start, shutting the man up on the other side of the screen in an accidental frustration-dump. This is not what you paid him for, but you still appreciate the space to release your brain before, well, your cum. “My fucking boss.”
Sunghoon’s ears perk up, lazily stroking himself as you continue with a frantic voice.
“I swear he just flipped on me. I thought I was doing so good, I thought I was gonna get that new position, but now he’s just ignoring me and treating me like some temp or something.”
Sunghoon hums lowly, listening intently to the way you bring him into conversation to a man that…unfortunately, is that very same boss.
“Hmm, that’s interesting.” Sunghoon continues palming himself as he soothes you through your frustrations. “Your boss isn’t praising you.”
You pause, feeling a ping in your gut.
“If I were him, I’d praise you every day–” Sunghoon softens his voice. “Every night.”
“Oh…” You listen to his words, feeling your frustration melt out of you in an instant as you now focus on the way his cock twitches through the screen.
“Wouldn’t let you go a second without thinking of how good I am to you.” He continues, both hyping himself and degrading his day-time self. “If I were your boss–”
You interrupt his words with a very quiet groan, he fucking heard it.
“Mm, you like that?” He smiles to himself, gripping the base of his cock and thrusting up to show the full size to you. “The thought of me being your boss? Liking you a little too much?”
You hum. Not that you’ve ever thought about it too deeply, but now that he’s said it, praising you, putting down your actual boss, telling you what he’d do if he were him?
You guess, for tonight anyway, you’re into it.
“What’s his name, babe?” Sunghoon asks, wondering if you’ll actually out his name to a stranger.
“Park Sunghoon.” You expose him instantly, full name and all, even with a bit of bite in your voice.
“Oh, yeah?” He draws back, jerking his hand up once. “Well, I’d fuck you better than Park Sunghoon.”
You smile at the thought, imagining yourself with more power than what your boss has. Like you’re his boss, you’re the one dangling a promotion just out of reach before giving it to someone else.
“See this?” The man on the screen grunts out to you, pulling your attention back to him by fucking tight thrusts into his fist. “Watch me, baby, get a good look.”
And you do watch. Intensely, you stare at his big cock, the head of it darkened and leaking with each pass of his hand. You’re not even touching yourself at this point, but it’s like you can feel the force of it.
“Now, I need you to open those legs for me.” He instructs you.
You do as he says much like before, letting your legs fall open but not yet letting yourself touch. You still sigh at the movement, your panties shifting as move moved is enough to make you want to hump your hips up.
“Turn on your camera.”
Silence. Your ears ring momentarily at the words as you immediately close your legs.
“What?” You ask in a higher-pitched tone than usual. “I requested for no c-”
“No.” Sunghoon mutters, shifting his position to lean towards the microphone and whispering now. “You do as I say.”
He hears you huff at his words, but he also hears the shifting around on your end.
“I want to see that pussy open for me.” He continues in that same low-rumbled voice. “I want to see what your boss is missing out on.”
You don’t know what it is about this situation that turns your discomfort into pure, rushing arousal. Never in your life have you ever considered fucking yourself on camera, especially after paying someone else to do it for you, yet–
“Do I have to show you my face?” You ask quietly, already finding the lower-face-mask to put on, just to be safe in case you lose your composure and accidentally reveal yourself.
“No,” Sunghoon assures you through a deep breath. “I already told you what I want to see.”
More silence save for the shuffling he still hears on your end.
“Open your legs and turn it on.” He encourages you now, keeping his hand still on himself as he waits to see if you’ll actually do it.
And…
Oh fuck.
“There she is.” Sunghoon hums, trying to keep his composure at the way you give him access. Honestly, he didn’t think you would, but you do, and all he can do is lay himself back again, staring straight at the image of you.
Your face is out of frame much like he is but this is the first time he’s ever seen you with so little clothing on. No bra, thin tank top, no shorts or pants, just panties. It takes everything in him not to moan out at the image.
After all, it’s confirmed to be you.
Fuck, that’s you right there.
“Already so wet too?” Sunghoon groans now, focusing on that spot between your legs, probably so slippery and warm.
You’re very shy though, not moving much better yet speaking as this faceless man takes in your image. You feel awkward, but still turned on despite squeezing your legs together and hiding that spot from him.
“Oh, baby–” He coos out in a way that makes it seem as though he was endeared by that. “That’s not going to work.”
You’re more focused on your embarrassment than you are on the way his cock leaks and pours pre-cum at the image he’s witnessing.
“How am I supposed to show you how much better I’d take care of you?” He continues, reverting back to the same role play from before. “I bet Sunghoon wouldn’t want to bury his tongue in you like I would.”
Your legs fall open at the words, and he can see the way you thrust up just slightly.
“That’s it, you need someone to touch you, don’t you?” He continues, watching you intensely. “Need someone to lick that pretty pussy?”
You nod, once again forgetting that he can’t see you do it before you finally speak.
“Please.”
His moan after hearing you seems far more intense than the first time you did this with him. In fact, he appears entirely focused on you. Role playing in some way but he's acting…more real than last time too.
“You deserve some love for all that hard work.” He says to you, encouraging you to keep talking for him. “Play with yourself, go on. You need it.”
You follow his instructions on instinct, as if your body truly does need the release.
“Feel it– not too hard, just graze over your panties.”
Ah, still you listen, holding your breath at each feather-light touch you give to yourself per his request.
And he watches. Hyper-focused on the way that darkened spot on your panties grows bigger and bigger. So wet for him doing exactly what he wishes he could do for you come tomorrow morning.
“Your other hand babe, slowly, lift your shirt and–”
He doesn’t even have to keep instructing you. You do exactly as he wanted, lifting your shirt gently before playing with your own nipples, still lightly grazing your fingers over your swollen clit that’s restricted by your panties.
You moan quietly at the feeling, wishing so much that it doesn’t have to be your hands doing this.
“That feels good, doesn’t it?” Sunghoon hums, working his palm against his own length, gentle, barely grazing it. “Now, look at me.”
You draw your eyes forward, the image of him already arousing from before, but now? Why is he so much hotter now? As if the screen is nothing but a window into his bedroom.
“You see how hard I am right now?” You can hear the smile in his voice as you continue to work yourself up to near-sensitivity. “Never been this hard for anyone else.”
Oh, that’s bullshit. He does this as a job. He’s just sweet talking to you for sure.
“Been thinking about you since the first time you booked me.” He continues, keeping the touches light and making sure you don’t press on yourself too hard either. “Was hard all week for you.”
Okay, yeah, maybe you are a little too into praise. Lie or not, it’s exactly what you need to hear right now.
“You gonna be just as good for me tonight too?” Sunghoon hums, tightening his grip. “You’re going to push your panties to the side and show me that you missed me too, right?”
Yes. The light touching has been nothing but torture at this point, wanting so badly to be told to do more. For yourself, for him.
You barely recognize how your embarrassment leaves your body when you stretch your panties to the side, letting him see how they stick to you only to unfold in a glistening mess for him.
“Messy, messy, messy.” Sunghoon moans, struggling so hard by now not to fuck his fist straight to orgasm. But no, he can’t ruin this moment.
That’s your pussy, looking so wet and tight, so needy.
“Gently, open up for me.” Sunghoon groans lowly, watching so closely the way you spread open your lips for him, the hole pulsing and shining in all that wet he wishes he could lick up.
Never in his life has he ever wanted to bury his tongue into someone this badly. Goddamn, he’s near obsessed with you at this moment. He loses composure.
“Fuck–” He seethes, feeling his cock twitch wildly against his hand. “I want you so bad.”
Those words feel more real to you than anything else. Virtual sex is one thing but to have a man blatantly moan those words to you as if he means them? As if he has never let it slip for any of his other scheduled calls?
“What’s the name of your boss again?” Sunghoon asks, pretending as if he forgot, just to hear you say it.
He notes the way your pussy clenches through his words too, as if he can see the confusion not through your expression, but through your arousal alone. Asking you that turned of off.
“What’s his name, baby?” Sunghoon presses, offering an excuse. “I wanna know who it is that gave me this tonight.”
Alluding to the fact that the only reason you’re paying him is because your boss made you feel like you need release in some way.
“Park-” You start, not wanting to deny his demands. “Sunghoon.”
“Ah, yeah.” Sunghoon holds his breath, closing his eyes briefly just to let that breathy voice sit in his mind before focusing back on you. “Two fingers babe, slide them in.”
God, you listen just as well as you do at work. He should have given you that promotion the day he saw your application. Even without seeing you do as your told in this situation, he already knew you were going to be getting that interview.
He listens to the way your cunt swallows up your fingers for him, so wet and needy. Swollen around the two digits as you slide them in with a breathy sigh.
“Spread your fingers, open up.”
You do, presenting your opened core to him without any shame at this point. Allowing him to look, wanting him to look.
“Now, say–” Sunghoon swallows around a lump in his throat. “Thank you Sunghoon.”
Your pussy pulses around your fingers, recoiling again at the name.
“Say, Thank you Sunghoon, for all of this stress.”
He continues, trying to encourage, adding another lie of an excuse just to get you to break.
“Because, if it weren't for him, I wouldn’t be needing to take care of you like this, now would I?”
In your horny brain, it makes sense.
“Thank you–Aah–Sunghoon.” You moan, plunging your fingers into yourself without being told to do so, moaning out for the faceless man on the screen at your break in composure.
“Again.” He instructs you, watching the way your legs shake through saying his own name.
“Thank you Sunghoon–” You continue, as if the words are natural despite feeling intense irritation for the man. “Thank you–”
And, well, that very name you’re moaning is now also moaning. That little fake name you gave to him falls from his lips after you say it each time, fucking into his fist and hoping you’re watching, nearly unable to ask you to stick another finger into yourself.
Not needing to ask at all, apparently, because you do it yourself. You even bump your clit up against your wrist too.
Shit.
He needs you.
“Thank him for what?” Sunghoon starts to ask, feeling an orgasm approach far too quickly.
“For making me come to you!” You answer him as if you’re frustrated, hips bounce up against your hand just to dig your fingers in deeper.
“What else?” He asks now, forgetting what it is he should not be doing.
“Hmm?” You answer in a drawn-out moan.
“Thank him for what else?” He repeats first, only to follow up with his own answer. “For giving you a reason to cum.”
“Yes!” You groan, now grinding your hips up and against your palm without relaxing back against the bed. Intentionally chasing as your eyes remain on him, watching him pull and tug so roughly.
“So fucking pretty,” Sunghoon praises as he snaps his hips in time with his moving palm, eyes so tuned into you that... “Fuck–” He moans your name. “So pretty.”
And he didn’t realize it. Half expecting you to moan back for him, he’s still going as he watches you halt what you’re doing and cover yourself entirely.
“What did you just call me?” You ask in an out of breath voice.
Sunghoon repeats your fake name to you, feeling the energy shift in an instant but still needing to chase the orgasm within him.
“No. You just called me–” You repeat your real name to him.
“Ah, sorry babe, got a little tongue tied.” He tries to play it down, hand still moving, his voice still shaking through moans.
There’s a rush of anxiety within you as you stare at the screen though. There’s….no fucking way. It clicks in your head instantly at the excuse. An excuse you've heard before.
Given, you’ve never seen…him outside of a suit. The voice you hear doesn’t click in your head as Sunghoon’s either, considering he’s never a man of very many words.
Instantly, you’re covering your camera with your hand, watching how the man on the screen spreads his legs out and drops his cock. Like he’s waiting, like he’s listening, wondering. Are you making a fool of yourself right now?
Are you misreading?
He seems calm, and if it really is Sunghoon…surely he’d be disconnecting right now, right?
Why would he even be fucking himself on camera anyway? The guy makes bank! You’re the one who sees his pay checks, after all!
Still, there’s a twisting in your gut as you ignore the way you still drip against your sheets.
Very quietly, just to see, you work up the courage.
“Mr.Park?”
It’s silent for a few seconds as the man on the screen shifts, a blur of movement forcing you into a state of motion-sickness.
You almost thought he was going to chuckle at you and ask if you were thinking about your boss rather than him. You almost thought he would use that to his advantage.
You almost thought you were wrong, but– he disconnects the call just seconds later.
A few more moments pass as you stare blankly at the screen, your phone vibrates as you receive an email with a refund of your five hundred dollars.
And two hours later? Lying in your bed with anxiety in your gut, you get a text from none other than Park Sunghoon.
Mr.Park: We need to talk.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
there will be a part two!!! but also remember: please do not ask or demand that i write more if you 1.) won't reblog 2.) aren't even following me.
anyway:
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Atomic Baby
You, a wastelander are captured by an unfortunate group of men, your knight in dusty leather does more for you than you originally thought he would.
☆ ☆ ☆
Cooper Howard/ The Ghoul x f!reader
6.2k words
cw & tags: general smut, piv, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f receiving), cannon typical violence, unwanted (implied) sexual advances(not by cooper), brief alcohol use, use of pet names, heavy flirting, cannon typical drug use
☆ ☆ ☆
authors note: this is my first fallout fic! im hoping to write more! (check out my pinned post for more info) and my first nsfw one so i hope you enjoy. Tbh there are some moments where he is slightly ooc, just kinder than in cannon but whatever. There is a large possibility that this could become a multi-chapter at some point but it can 100% be read free standing. please reblog if you wish but do not repost or translate anywhere without my permission. anyway thank you! and let me know if you notice any mistakes or something i missed in the tags!
Waking up to three weaselly looking men looming over you with a rather sharp looking hatchet, not the best thing ever. Your little camp seeming to be ransacked already, you glare up. The one who seems to be the leader of their little group ties a rough length of rope to your wrists as the other two rifle through your bag. Hauling you up they force you to start waking.
The scorching hot sun beams down on your shoulders as you walk.The irradiated heat of the wasteland is never forgiving, especially not recently; even at night it’s been like sleeping in an oven.
☆ ☆ ☆
Walking, endless walking. It has already been about an hour or so since your capture. The winds picking up, trapping your lungs with dusty red soil. Phlegmy coughs and chortles follow behind you. At least they aren't at your side anymore, for the first half hour or so they would take turns shoulder checking you… or spitting at you… or tripping you… really anything those dirty bastards could think of. At this point their boredom with you is really coming to your advantage.
The greasy men are probably hoping to sell you or your organs for a few caps. Either one, not fantastic. Soil kicks up around you, forceful wind driving you to trudge forward with more effort. Glancing down at your wrists you start to feel some relief, the knot binding your wrists getting looser by the second. The dumb bastards clearly were no eagle scouts, their poor attempt at a knot slowly unfurling as you walk.
Looking forward again you have some hope. A dinghy looking town ahead of you. Walking closer and closer you see something in the town? Someone? Oh thank the lord someone. Maybe there is hope for you after all, I mean just weighing the odds, what are the chances that this random person is also chomping at the bit for some extra caps? Thinking about it now, they probably are. Well, a small chance is better than no chance.
Unraveling the last of the rope you propel yourself forward, running desperately. Your life -quite literally- depends on it. Your captors quickly realize and start chasing after you, you race forward, sights pinned on the figure in front of you.
Stopping yourself just quickly enough, you slam into the figure, making them stumble back slightly. “Now what in the-” the accented baritone voice of the person says. Grasping onto the lapels of his jacket you stare up desperately begging,
“Please help me sir, these guys captured me. I think they're going to sell me or something!”
The man looks up for a moment, staring at the men just a few seconds away before looking back down at you, “What's in it for me doll?” he says, smirking down.
“Just please!” a short chuckle erupts from his chest, placing a hand on your waist he pushes you behind him.
“I gotcha, just stay behind me.” Your captors slow to a stop, attempting to catch their breath; one of the goons is the first to attempt speech through all the heavy breathing.
“Give her back, we found ‘er first.” He says in a whiny tone, clearly not the brightest bulb.
“Now why would I want to do that?”
“Well… uh” he struggles to find the words, dumbly looking to his superior.
“Well what? Cat got yer’ tongue?”
The ring leader is the next to speak, lips parting in a sneer, revealing a mouth full of rotten teeth. “Finders keepers ghoul. It's rare you see a pretty little thing like her these days… thought we'd sell ‘er. Caps are hard to come by. You understand.”
“Well, I can't deny she is quite the looker,” the ghoul says, looking to his side over at you, eyes grazing over your face before looking up, staring holes through the head of the man in front. “But in terms of the ‘finders keepers’ I'm going to have to dispute that fellas’. You see… i'm not really in the business of sharin’ and she seems to have found me,'' he laughs, hand going to his holster, “so i'm keepin’.”
Between the effort of running and the ghoul's comment your face is quite warm. The tension between him and the men rises every millisecond. Praying that the ghoul is a reliable shot seems to be your only hope as the group gets more irritated by the second. The leader goes to speak again, clearly not taking the hand-on-the-holster hint from the ghoul.
“I don't think so-” he says, drawing his pistol. The ghoul, already prepared, fires off a shot, beating him to his own, a bullet landing in the man’s shoulder. The leader stumbles, being taken to one knee. The goons caught by surprise go to draw their own guns, before another warning shot fires off, grazing the cheek of one.
Taking the hint, they drop their guns, hands held shakily as they lower to themselves to kneel on the ground. Clearly not wanting to take any chances. The ghoul walks over to the leader, the barrel of his gun pressed into the man's chin, forcing him to look up. The ghoul grins sarcastically.
“Well I know so. Now, why don't you pick your dusty ass up and get you, and your little…” He looks back at the two other men, “fanclub, outta’ here while I take care of that fine piece of ass you so helpfully lead into my arms.” He holsters his gun again, reaching into his pocket for a moment, “Some caps for your troubles.” he says, dropping a few caps on the ground before turning around and walking back to you.
“I- thank you.” you say dumbly, looking up at the ghoul.
“Don't thank me sweetheart,” he says, scanning your body for injuries. His eyes lock on a laceration on your arm before looking back at you. “Let's get you stitched up now,” he says with a tone you can't quite place. You lift your arm to look at the wound for a moment, must've gotten it at some point during the walk.
Looking back up, the ghoul has already walked past you, most likely expecting you to follow as he heads towards a building a few meters away. Quickly you move to follow him, eager to get away from your former captors.
☆ ☆ ☆
You watch awkwardly as he rummages for a needle and thread, finally finding some, he threads the needle, Sitting down on the only chair available. He looks up expectantly with a barely-there smirk.
“Well, come take your seat doll,” he says, patting his thigh. “That there won't stitch itself,” he says nodding to your arm. A heat once again rises to your face as you shuffle over, sitting down on his knee, the wound facing him as your legs are thrown across his lap. You attempt to focus on the wall ahead of you, ignoring the fact that this is the only welcome touch you've had in a while.
Soon you have something else to focus on as the most definitely not sterile needle pierces your skin. You look over your shoulder at the man, his hat tipped back lazily as he pinches the needle through his thumb and forefinger. A whip stitch quickly binding the laceration. He ties a knot before snapping the extra thread off with a nip of his teeth.
He grasps you at the waist and under your knees, standing, while setting your feet on the ground. “I believe that's all. ‘Should be able to gather enough things here to get you on your way,” he says, walking to the door.
“Wait! Could I come with you? I don't have much, but I could help you in some way... Carry supplies, cook, something,” you say, not ready to be alone quite yet. He gives an almost genuine smile, facing you again.
“Well I don't find myself in need of a pack mule. I'll be on my way ma'am.” he replies, tipping his hat before walking out, seeming to already have his next location in mind. He walks confidently, out of the town into the infinite desert ahead.
☆ ☆ ☆
After gathering a decent amount of supplies in the surrounding buildings you stand in the middle of town absolutely stumped. There is nothing for you in this abandoned town you find yourself in and it's not like you've had the best track record with setting up your own camp recently.
Wandering around a little more you find yourself where you met your knight in dusty leather. The other men now long gone, you stoop down and collect the things they left. Lucky for you they pretty much dropped everything they had, undoubtedly wanting to get away from the ghoul as quickly as possible.
Picking through their supplies you find that they left their guns and a decent amount of ammo, as you attach the holster to your belt you notice some strange little bottles; about four of them. Tiny cylindrical vials filled with a clear yellow-green liquid. Well, chems are chems you think to yourself, stuffing them inside a first aid kit you found inside one of the buildings.
After nosing around the supplies a bit more you decide you don't want anything else. What to do now…
Well, making your own camp is out of the question for now. You could follow the ghoul, he seems to be a decent survivalist, and the safest person you've interacted with in months. You could stay just behind him, he won't even notice. Just until he passes a more substantial settlement. Or you decide on somewhere else to go.
Deciding on that as a decent course of action, you follow the path marked by his footsteps. The sun is starting to get lower in the sky at this point, it's important to start moving before dusk falls.
☆ ☆ ☆
You have been following the ghoul's path for about two days now, trailing behind him. Being just close enough to where you can see when he settles down for the night, taking it as a sign to wind down as well.
As day two starts to end you see him in the distance, he starts to set up his camp for the night so you do too. Two days completely filled with travel can really take a lot out of a person, you soon welcome the sleep that takes you.
☆ ☆ ☆
“Well, hello there little lady.” you hear a familiar voice say, spooking you awake. Your eyes open to be greeted by the face of your savior from a few days ago. He's standing over you, eyes boring into yours. “Now what do you think you're doin’. Following me around these past few days, thinkin’ I wouldn't notice.”
“I- I’m so sorry, I didn't mean to intrude, I just didn't know where to go… and I figured following behind you would be a safe bet. Just until we passed another settlement! That's all I swear!” You rush to speak, trying to rationalize your thinking to him.
“Is that so? Well I hate to break it to ya’ darlin’ but the next town is about a 3 day walk away,” he informs, standing back to his full height before stepping away. You groan, rubbing your face forcefully in frustration. What the hell are you supposed to do now? Sitting up, you lazily start to collect your things.
Taking your sweet time, you scoot towards where you had placed your pack for the night. Leisurely taking a sip of water and a bite of some jerky you snagged in town. Now you really had to think about what you were going to do. You doubt he would let you continue following him, and clearly he had some 6th sense for this type of thing so secretly doing it isn't in the cards.
“Get yer’ ass up! We're burnin’ daylight out here.” the ghoul yells. Confused, you whip your head around to look at him. He walks towards you.
“What?” you say stupidly.
“We need to get a move on,” he states, squatting down to meet your eye level. “If we move at your glacial pace we'll never get there.” he remarks sarcastically. Standing once again he goes to collect the last of his things, yelling to you again, “Now! and I ain't carryin’ any of your shit so don't even think about bitchin’ about it.”
With a huff, you stand dusting yourself off before grabbing your pack and trailing behind the ghoul.
☆ ☆ ☆
The first day of travel was mostly uneventful, walking, walking, and even more… walking. Though you quickly learn that he doesn't talk much. And he walks quite fast. While you were certainly an effective and efficient walker, you were still left in the dust.
One of his large strides was equivalent to about one and a half of yours. Walking behind someone for miles is not exactly the most engaging activity, but it gave you plenty of time to think. And oh boy did your mind have some things to say.
As you walk your mind starts to wander. ‘my view of him from behind wasn't all that bad,’ you think to yourself. ‘He walks with a confidence that would make anyone quake in their boots, including me. Just possibly in a different way.’
By the end of the day you were spent. Sitting down by the fire, the sun finally setting, eating whatever scraps had been left over in your bag. Not exactly the most exciting dinner in the world, but in this day and age boring and uneventful is a blessing.
It's l quite awkward, sitting across from him. He has such an intense gaze. The exquisite hazel of his eyes is something so uncommon, especially for a ghoul. He seems to be doing well for himself, as close as one can be in the wasteland that is. But with that it makes the feeling ever stronger.
The way he bores his eyes into you makes you feel like he can hear everything you have been thinking all day.
Looking at you like you're something to eat.
☆ ☆ ☆
The second day seems to be turning into much of the same. Infinitely more walking ahead of you. Though there is something different in the air today, something new that you can't quite place.
As you look past him you hope you can see anything different, anything new. At this point you would celebrate for a tumbleweed. Though there is still much to think about.
You come to realize how little you truly know about your traveling partner. I mean, you met him not even a week ago and now you've committed to a good bit more time with him and you don't even know his name. He hasn't spoken much to you since your journey started, or really at all that you can remember.
What a shame. His voice is something that continues to echo through you. His deep baritone with that saccharine accent. While he doesn't talk much, it really is a treat when he does. When it comes to the short conversations he has with you, you can't help but get giddy at the pet names he calls you.
Now that you think about it, he doesn't know your name either. Quickening your steps you catch up to walk next to him. Looking up you see him eye you suspiciously. Suddenly feeling a bit insecure you look back down. Who are you to think that he would want to speak with you? Well, what the hell, why not?
“Hey!” you say, attempting to sound casual, failing horribly. Sparing you some embarrassment, he doesn't seem to react at all, eyes directed forward. “I was just wondering, it's probably stupid, you don't have to answer obviously. But uh, you know what? Never mind. Sorry.”
Wow, really smooth. Admitting defeat you slow your pace back to your normal one, starting to fall behind him once again; that is, until a leather-clad hand finds itself on your hip. Rushing you to once again, meet his steps.
“Just spit it out babydoll, if we're gonna’ be stuck together, I suppose you can get a question or two,” he conceded. His hand pulls back to his side, a bit leisurely crossing the small of your back. Not that you were going to complain, a welcome shiver running through you.
“Well, I was going to ask your name.” That seems to have gotten his attention, his head turning so he can fully look at you now. His eyes roving over your face as if looking for a lie.
“My name? That's what you want to know?”
“I mean… yeah? I just thought if we were traveling together I should know what to call you,” you explain, once again feeling insecure. He turns his head forward once again, an unreadable expression taking over his face.
“Is that so?” Understanding this to be rhetorical, you stay silent, deciding instead to focus on walking.
Quite soon though, you find yourself stopping. While the sun is getting lower in the sky, normally you would have another hour or so until you would start to settle down. Confused, you turn to ask; He beats you to it.
“There's some decent huntin’ and some clean water 'round here. Stay and set up house.” Wordlessly you nod, placing your bag on the ground. You walk a few meters away, collecting some sticks for a fire as you hear his heavy footfalls go in the opposite direction.
☆ ☆ ☆
Just as the sun starts to set, and you finally get a decent fire going you see your partner walking towards you. Some sort of meat that he already seems to have butchered in his hand.
“Darlin’ would you cook this up,” He says, not really waiting for an answer, handing you the game. “I have got to get off my feet.” He goes and settles down, resting his back against a large rock in the general vicinity of the fire. Rummaging through his bag he grabs out a small vial, identical to the ones you snagged days previously. He attaches it to what looks to be a repurposed Jet inhaler, taking a hit.
“Well? What are you waiting for? Quit your starin’,” he hollers. Taking the hint, you avert your gaze and spear the meat onto an extra stick.
The meat roasts somewhat unevenly but who can complain at this point? While doing the mindless task you can't help but look up at him. Still leaning up against the rock his head is back now, dusty cowboy hat tipped over his eyes. He really is quite handsome. Ghoul's don't exactly get the best rap when it comes to anything, especially looks. You decide that people would change their minds if they met him.
Looking down again towards your work you decide it looks done enough. Separating just over half of it you place it onto a handkerchief, walking it over to him, placing it on his lap. He goes to move his hat back, giving you a nod before you go back to your spot across from him, the heat of his gaze following you.
Sitting down you prepare for another silent dinner. Digging into your food, you hear him clear his throat, causing you to look up. “Cooper,” he says, “Cooper Howard.” You smile, a real genuine smile, giving him your name as well. A small grin finds its way to his face. So subtle you almost missed it. There was truly something in the air today.
☆ ☆ ☆
Waking up the following day you feel like shit. Clean water has been pretty sparse causing your head to pound like a drum. Sure there was some clean water near here but even the idea of standing up sounded unappealing. Deciding it’s best to get it over with sooner rather than later you sit up.
You start to dig through your pack trying to find your canteen with no success. Confused, you look around, still no canteen. “Cooper?” you yell, not seeing him in the immediate vicinity either.
“What is it, doll?” He yells back, coming into your field of view, strutting as always.
“Oh thank the gods. For a second I thought you left me behind,” you sigh with relief.
“Now why would I do that?” A sarcastic tone infesting his speech. Rolling your eyes, you speak again.
“Have you seen my canteen anywhere? I can't find it. Thought I'd refill it with the clean water you were talking about last night,” you add, standing up and dusting yourself off. Cooper responds by reaching into the pocket inside his jacket, pulling out your canteen and shaking it. The sound of fresh water splashing inside.
Unscrewing the cap he walks up to you, so close you two are almost chest to chest. “Drink up,” he says, lifting it, waiting, like he expected something. And who are you to deny his expectations? Lifting your gaze from the container to the depths of his eyes you open your mouth obediently. He rewards you with a slight smirk, tipping the opening towards your lips.
Despite the increasing tension between you, you are genuinely thirsty. You gulp down the water desperately between heaving breaths. Seeing that you had gotten enough, he screws the cap back on, wiping away a leftover drop on your lip with his thumb.
“Well ain't you just a prize,” he remarks, so quietly you think he didn't mean for you to hear it. With an almost imperceptible smile on his face he steps away, “ You better start gettin’ a move on little lady. If we walk fast enough we can get to town by supper.” You watch for a second as he grabs his bag, throwing it over his shoulder.
Shaking the leftover tension you do the same, the idea of sleeping in a real bed tonight pushing you forward.
☆ ☆ ☆
Unfortunately, the heat truly has been overwhelming today. Notably, Cooper has slowed down just enough to match your pace today. Maybe you're truly starting to crack that hard outer shell he keeps himself in.
After about an hour of you fanning yourself, tying your hair up, then taking it down and putting it up in a different way you give up. Deciding that you would rather just be scorched than fiddle with your clothes or hair every fifteen seconds.
Soon after you come to this decision, Cooper silently lifts his hat off of himself, placing it on your head. The slight shade of the brim gives you some relief from the unending heat. Gratefully, you look up at him, he doesn't seem to think his action is anything of interest. His eyes still facing forward, face still pulled into a permanent scowl.
You look back down, “Thank you,” you say absentmindedly.
“Don't mention it,” he replies, his tone flat. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you for the rest of your travels. Every once and a while you would sneak an admiring glance or two. A few times you could swear you felt his gaze on you, but of course you have no proof of that.
☆ ☆ ☆
After several hours of travel you and Cooper find yourself in a rather nice little town. Nice for a town in the wasteland, that is, not that you can complain. Looking around you see several amenities, a decent looking saloon, a trading post, and a shabby motel being the ones that catch your eye.
You suspect that Cooper is more relieved than he is letting on, taking a deep breath, he allows himself a moment to take it in. “Come on now, let's get a room,” he says, stealing his hat off of you, placing it on his head once again. Both of you eager, you head to the desk of the motel.
Not caring to speak to anyone, as you two walk in Cooper silently drops a handful of caps onto the desk, grabbing a random key (and its spare) from the wall with the other hand as he does. You give a respectful nod to the person behind the desk before swiftly following him.
After passing a few rooms, your traveling partner looks down, matching the number on the key to the one on the door. Unlocking it, you are greeted by a could-be-better room. But who has time to complain? It's a place to rest your head and keep out of the elements.
“While all this is nice and all, I need a drink,” Cooper declares, setting down his bag and grabbing some caps out of one of the pouches.
“Ok, I think I'm going to get myself cleaned up here first, I'll meet you in a few.” making a sound of acknowledgement, Cooper leaves, tossing you the extra key, the sound of the lock clicking into place as the door closes.
Sure there wasn't anything fancy like running water here but they were kind enough to have a bottle of talc and a rag in the bathroom. Gratefully, you clean yourself up as much as you can before heading to the saloon.
☆ ☆ ☆
Walking in, you scan the room. It's packed with all kinds of people, all jabbering on with their own group, all sipping their alcohol of dubious origin, not that you can complain, you're about to do the same thing. Looking around again, closer this time. Looking for a specific ghoul. There he is.
He sat himself at a small booth, a round table in front of him. An empty glass -presumably his own- set atop. His legs are spread lazily, the brim of his hat creating a shadow over his eyes. It truly is despicable how beautiful he is.
Snapping yourself out of what is probably a desperate looking stare, you head over to the bar. You dig out enough caps from your pockets for two of whatever cheap whiskey you could get your hands on. “Two of whatever's cheapest,” you say leaning over the bartop, dropping enough caps for both, plus tip, on the counter. Nodding, the barkeep collects two glasses, pouring with a rather heavy hand, before handing them to you and snatching the caps.
You look over to where Cooper is once more; he's looking at you now, an intense indescribable air around him. You fight to not smirk at the fact that you caught him staring, you grab the drinks and head over to his table, challenging him with your continued eye contact. “Now where have you been all my life?” you hear an unfamiliar whiny voice say. Instantly your mood is ruined, with a scowl you turn towards the voice. It belongs to a plain looking man, a much too confident smirk on his face.
“As far away from you as I could manage,” you quip, rolling your eyes and making your way to your table. Hearing him get up from his chair, following in your direction you turn to face him again. “I'm here with someone don't even try,” you warn, though of course he doesn't take the message.
“Well I don't see him ‘round here,”
“You sure you don't?” You hear that familiar accented voice say behind you while wrapping his arm around your waist. Cooper stares down the man in front of you.
“A ghoul?” the man says, looking up towards him briefly before continuing his eye contact with you. “I can fuck you better than a goddamn ghoul I'll promise you that. You make that switch I'll show you a good time,” the man claims, stalking towards you with a dangerous leer on his face.
“Oh, I guarantee you can't,” Cooper gloats, flashing the gun at his side. Without a second thought he grasps your jaw firmly, turning your head to face him and he locks his lips with yours. Taken aback, it takes you a moment to kiss him back, but he quickly deepens the kiss. He runs his tongue on the seam of your lips. You quickly obey, opening your mouth to the welcome intrusion. With how intense the kiss became you couldn't help but let out a whimper, which he rewards with a firm squeeze of your waist.
You separate after what seems like an eternity, Cooper looking at the man in front of you. “Betcha’ believe it now don't ya'?” he smirks, leading you back to the booth. He grabs both of your drinks, setting them down on the table before sitting down. Feeling some confidence after what just transpired, you sit down on his lap, one of his legs settled between yours. Teasing a bit, you shift your hips against his a few times as if settling in.
“You keep doin’ that you're gonna get yourself in trouble,” he warns, grabbing and handing you your drink before shooting back his own. With a smile you lean back, resting against him.
“I'm ok with trouble,” you tease, taking a sip of your drink. Making a sound of contentment, Cooper runs his hand up your thigh, squeezing as his hand trails close to where you truly need him. You let out an unintentional whine at this, attempting to cover it up with a hefty gulp of your drink.
“Are you know? Well trouble is what I got darlin’,” he claims, bouncing his leg that you are perched on. His thigh rubbing deliciously on you. “Just say the word.” Finding all the sensations to be far too much you give in to his teasing. Rocking your hips back on him again you bring your lips to his neck, kissing up slowly, ending on his jaw.
“Please.”
Releasing a satisfied groan he gives you a relatively chaste kiss compared to earlier, he adjusts you and sets your feet on the ground, pulling you and him up to stand. “Lead the way pretty girl,” he purrs, delivering a swift smack to your ass as you scramble to get to your room.
☆ ☆ ☆
As soon as the door is closed and locked behind you two, you are forced against a wall. Clearly attempting to keep some sort of control over himself Cooper takes a deep breath. “Darlin’ I'm serious, you ain't gettin’ rid of me after this. You sure you want this? just say so and I’ll leave.” The pathetically desperate look in his eyes makes you even more eager to give him your answer
“Please Coop, I need you.”
Not needing any further confirmation, he once again locks his lips with yours. Opening your mouth right away, the kiss deepens quickly, both of you desperate to get a taste of each other. Cooper rips off his leather gloves, needing to feel you on him directly. That still not being enough, he paws at your top roughly, pushing it up. Parting for a moment he pulls it over your head, unclasping and removing your bra just after.
“Well ain't you the prettiest little thing,” he breathes, running his hands up your body to cup your tits. Stooping down, he sucks a dark bruise into the side of one, looking satisfied with himself as he does so.
“Coop,” you whine, starving for more. He falls completely to his knees now, delicately taking off your boots, eye contact steady.
He next moves to unbutton your jeans. He moves frustratingly slow, clearly enjoying your huffs of annoyance. Pulling off your pants and underwear in one, he grabs your hips harshly, pushing them into the wall. Without delay, he places your thighs over his shoulders, diving into your core like it's his last meal. He runs his tongue from your entrance to your clit, sucking it into his mouth harshly before releasing. Desperate for more, he plunges his tongue inside you once again.
The sudden intrusion forces a deep groan out of you. In need of a perch, you wrap your hand harshly around the back of his neck, knocking his hat off in the process. “You are just about the sweetest thing I've ever tasted,” he coos, placing a messy kiss on your inner thigh.
“Cooper, please. I need you,” you beg, desiring everything he can give you.
“Well I can't say no to that, can I?” he jokes, wrapping your legs around him as he stands. Holding you by your waist he makes his way to the bed. He swiftly tosses you atop, you bounce slightly, watching as he stalks towards you with an indescribable hunger. The heat of his stare intense, you desperately clench around nothing.
Kneeling on the bed now, Cooper runs his fingers through your folds, your wetness coating them. Slowly, he works a single finger inside of you, thrusting it in and out. “Fuck- Coop,” you moan, blinded by pleasure. He works another finger in, continuing the same pace, curling his fingers to hit that perfect spot every time. Working you open, preparing you for what was next.
“Good girl, so desperate for me, just a bitch in heat.” Lacking the proper brain function to respond, you whimper at his comment. Your eyes rolling back in pleasure. “Oh you like that don't you? You like being my needy little thing. The little slut I get to use.” his pace increases, fingers rubbing immaculately inside of you. The low buzz at the bottom of your stomach beginning to bloom, your hips unconsciously bucking down to meet his thrusts.
“Please, please please,” you beg, not quite knowing what you're begging for.
“I gotcha’ doll. Let go,” he assures, moving his thumb to rub quick circles on your clit. As if commanded, you let go right away. The pressure inside of you bursting with a moan, hips bucking wildly out of your control. Clenching desperately around his fingers. “That's it… that's my girl.” Your body comes down after a few seconds more, thighs twitching with the residual energy. Cooper delicately removes his fingers from you, a small whimper of overstimulation coming from you.
Placing them in his mouth, he laps up any of you he can get. “Sweet as honey, you are,” he teases. Letting out a breathy laugh at his comment, you fist your hand on his collar, pulling him in. The kiss is passionate, tasting yourself on him only spurs you on further. Your other hand trails down his body, finding the tent in his pants you give a teasing rub. His hips stutter forward briefly, making you smile into the kiss.
Your nimble fingers undo the button on his pants, the zipper following. Breaking the kiss you look up at him, silently asking for permission. Giving you a short nod, Cooper further pushes himself into you, bordering on grinding at this point. With a grin you take him out of his pants. You give a few experimental tugs, feeling the weight of him in your palm. His hips stutter again, “You better quit your teasin’ ‘fore I make you.” As enticing as that sounds, you listen. You rub him against you a few times before lining him up with your entrance.
Slowly, he starts to push in, your heat inviting him in. “F-fuck,” he whimpers, pausing for a moment. “I'm sorry baby, you just feel so good.” Pushing in farther, he bottoms out. He grinds into you, desperate to get as deep as he can.
“Please, Coop, please move,” you whimper out.
“You are so pretty when you beg. You will be the death of me darlin’,” he says, pulling out about halfway before slamming back in. He quickly sets a brutal pace, hips slamming into you quickly and harshly. The low buzz in your stomach quickly returns, every ridge of him rubbing deliciously inside of you. It's not long before you become a puddle of whines and moans, the low buzz bursting once more, stars exploding behind your vision.
His pace does not falter, his hips still moving at the same brutal pace. In fact, he finds this the perfect opportunity to start rubbing quick circles on your clit. Anything he can do to get you to go, needy to see it again.
“Come on now, you can do it one more time for me can't you?” not believing it can happen so soon again, you shake your head, pathetic whines falling from your lips. “Yes you can, come on. I'll follow right behind. One more for me, pretty girl,” he assures, his tone starting to sound as whiny as yours. The next one comes up faster than the others, beginning already so close to the precipice.
“Fuck, Coop im going to-”
“I know sweetheart, let go, come for me.” Your body takes that command wholeheartedly, you lock your legs around his hips, forcing him deeper as you fall over your precipice, his pace truly faltering, thrusts now short and sloppy. “Fuck, darlin’ im gonna’,” he attempts to say.
“I know,” you say between whimpers of his name. Before long he joins you in bliss, filling you to the brim.
He rests his head on your shoulder briefly, pulling out after a moment and righting himself in his clothes. Rolling over onto the bed moments after. Cooper tiredly pulls you against him, not a care in the world at the moment. To be honest you didn't either. The Rad-Away would just have to wait.
#cooper howard#fallout#fallout tv series#cooper howard x reader#fallout fanfic#the ghoul smut#the ghoul x reader#the ghoul x f!reader#the ghoul x you#the ghoul#cooper howard fanfiction#the ghoul fanfic
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have your cake
So way back in August 2023 the steddiemicrofic challenge was Cake and 311 words, my head empty brain came up with one thought and it was Steve Munson having a bakery called Mun's Buns and so many months later I finally got around to finishing my vision
Ships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson; Tommy Hagan/Carol Perkins; implied/past Tommy Hagan/Steve Harrington/Carol Perkins
WC: 6408 | T | tags: Future Fic, the lightest of post homoerotic friendship breakup angst, fluff, Tommy POV
AO3
The bakery has a stupid name, is the first thing Tommy thinks when Carol tells him where he's supposed to meet her on his lunch break. He’s still thinking that, when he sees the place for the first time through his rain speckled windshield. It's a modest storefront, small for what Carol says is a booming business, tucked in next to a used bookstore and a music shop. There's a baby yellow awning hanging from the front just underneath a sign lettered in soft blue that reads Mun's Buns.
He's late, is the second thing he thinks after pulling up. Caught up in some stupid bullshit for his dad he hadn't managed to slip away until 12:30. Even then it had only been because Tommy had told him he was going to be late for their cake tasting. He'd rolled his eyes when his father and Greg, a guy that Tommy only considers a co-worker in the sense that they are technically on the same payroll since Greg in every other aspect is incompetent and an idiot, had winced. Shooing him away like a kid who'd just admitted that he's already twenty minutes past curfew. But catching sight of the way Carol has her arms crossed, tapping her foot fast enough to kickstart a motor, while her hair hangs limp in a way that it hadn’t this morning a third thought crosses his mind: maybe he should have been a little more worried.
Waiting isn’t going to make things any better. So he steps out of the car, let’s the misty damp cling to him in a way that makes his dress pants and button down feel like a poorly tailored second skin, and takes his licks like a man. "Late, thirty minutes late. Christ, it's the only thing I've asked from you Tommy." Her right hook stings just as badly as it did sophomore year when she punched him for asking out Erin Murphy instead of her.
Shit like that is probably why no one expected them to make it this long or this far.
When they went away to college; different schools, hours apart. His parents had been gleeful as they'd warned him that high school relationships didn't always last. That he should keep his options open, he didn't want to miss out on the love of his life just because of comfort. He didn't get offered the family ring when he decided to propose right after graduation. Carol has always been particular. Wanted the house to come back to before the wedding could happen, wanted a long honeymoon. That meant saving, a lot of it. Tommy knew and Carol did too, they'd overheard his mother and aunt gossiping in too loud voices after too much wine that they hoped the long engagement meant they were both trying to figure out a good way to break it off with one another.
Still, over the course of their now five year engagement no one's asked once if they wanted to trade for it.
Carol thought it was horrendous anyway. She’d had her ring picked out since ‘85, styled her class ring so it would look like the oval cut diamond she wanted. Had him slide it on her finger the second it came in.
Cause in the politest of terms, Carol could be a raging bitch. She was Tommy's favorite person in the entire world.
There’s going to be a bruise on his shoulder tomorrow, even if she’s guiltily smoothing a hand down his arm now. Thrust toward the door first in offering, Carol is sorry she hit him but she’s not apologetic. “I’m serious, Tom, if we lose this appointment and have to go with Sweet Treats for our cake I'll- I'll-"
Whatever threat she was preparing is drowned out and then cut off by the echoing TONG of the door chime. A light in the back shifts color for a second, out of place enough that he wonders if he even really saw it. Head tilting toward Carol, his question catches in his throat when he notices her pinched off appraising. Better not to add to the ammunition she might already be building.
And if Carol is looking he better do it too. She'll want to debrief when they're having dinner tonight, just like they did with the florist, the caterer, the three wedding planners they'd met with, and each of the venues that they'd visited. And it wasnt because she was demanding, fuck you Greg. It wasn't because she was being nitpick-y, alright it was a little bit because she was but he liked being particular with her. He liked being involved in his wedding.
So he looked around.
The way they utilized their space -- a building that big and there's barely enough room to stand, we want someone who knows how to work with limited space for the venues we're looking at -- was the reason their first wedding planner hadn't gotten hired. Small, but not cramped. There are a handful of tables scattered in the open space in front of the counter. It’s the kind of small town cozy that Hawkins had tried for and he doesn’t see very often anymore now that they’ve moved out to Indianapolis.
It’s lunchtime, still too early for people to be seeking out the rows of deserts in their neat glass counter and too late for the breakfast crowd. But one of the tables is occupied by a teenager with long, black braids scribbling in a notebook while a slice of ice cream cake melts on a plate by her elbow.
Everything was neat, organized, and compliant with health code regulations -- they hadn’t even made it in the door of the first caterer’s when she noticed a trail of ants and roaches marching into the open kitchen door.
Carol had always been quick when she was making up her mind about something. Like those Sherlock Holmes stories they’d had to read in school, in a couple of seconds she could spot everything she needed to make a decision. After a decade Tommy still couldn’t keep up; but he was always best at following someone else’s lead.
The smile she’s got frosted across her face is as sugary and fake as the roses on the cupcakes he can see behind the low topped counters as she approaches the only visible staff member. A girl, young in the way that nebulous way anyone younger than him was now, with thick squared glasses that magnified two distressingly blue eyes. The counters looked like they were designed to sit low enough that she could easily see over the top while in her wheelchair.
“Welcome to,” her customer service tone borders on bored. Two words into a clear script and she sighs, as if saying the name physically pains her, “Mun’s Buns. We’ve got a special series of summer flavors: Strawberry Lemonade, Lavender Mint, Chocolate Fudgsicle, and,” she sighs again, “for the grownups a boozy Blue Moon with orange zest.”
“How about a wedding cake.” He’s impressed. Carol made it through the speech without interrupting.
“Do you have an appointment?” the girl raises her voice, enough to make them both flinch back. Customer service isn’t a requirement for this part of the job necessarily, but Carol had bailed on two venues because the staff hadn’t been polite enough.
Her smile doesn’t crack though, “Yes.”
Even though he’s pretty sure this girl has to be basically blind with the inch thick frames, she levels Carol with a lethal stare. “Not you.”
From the open entryway behind her Tommy had been able to make out what sounded like the highlights of yesterday’s game. He assumed that space had to be the kitchen where these rows of deserts were made. He’s still surprised when a guy’s voice is shouting back, “I don't know, Max, do I? Why don't you check?”
“How am I supposed to do that?” Max shouts back, glowering at then in stand in for her mystery boss.
“With your finger, asshole. It's in braille. When I gave you this job you said you were actually gonna work.”
“Douchebag." Her eyes never leave them, while her hands rummage around in a space beneath the counter where the cash register sits. Max offers no explanation or apology for her shouting or for her boss. A large red appointment book gets slammed down on the nearest counter, making Carol jump but the neat two by twos of chocolate frosted cupcakes don't budge. He watches, a little fascinated by the way her finger scans the page before slowing. "Did you write this or did Dustin?"
Carol has always valued gossip over professionalism, he thinks that’s why she’s done so well as a hairdresser even though she was always awful at chemistry. It’s also why he’s held off from pointing out that they could solve this a lot faster if this guy would come out from the back. "Why?"
“Cause one of you can't spell and one of you is trying to invent braille shorthand. So I'm not really sure what to do with TomGan Wed.”
“It might be Thomas and Wedding.” Carol leans over the appointment book as she says it, using a tone of voice he has never once heard her use in the entire time he’s known her. He thinks it’s supposed to be helpful.
“Wedding sampler.” The girl calls toward the back, “It's getting late.”
“I’ve got it,” the voice from the back shouts back.There’s an effortless assurance Tommy can hear from where he’s standing. It hits him with a wave of nostalgia so strong he grabs Carol’s arm on instinct.
“Really,” she says, cutting her gaze over to him. He’s not sure what she sees. “If we could hurry this along, it's just we've only got an hour.”
“You're late.” The glare she gets shuts Carol down faster than he’s ever seen.
“Right.”
“Okay I've got it.” The voice from the back is now the voice in the doorway. Hidden for a second by a serving tray loaded with samples of rich looking cake, it’s the first time since arriving that Tommy has actually wanted to be here. Not just because he can make out strong shoulders and a body of a man that’s still very fit but clearly enjoys his work too; the hint of love handles above strong thighs. Only then that tray dips, and for the first time since 1985 Tommy finds himself looking at the shocked hazel eyes of Steve Harrington. “Oh.”
Carol reacts for him, taking in a breath sharp enough she might puncture a lung. They’ll both wind up suffocated on the floor of this stupid bakery with an awful name, because Tommy can’t manage to breathe at all looking at Steve. Still unfairly handsome, faintly pink at the shock of seeing them too he imagined.
His hair is long, is the first real thought his half fried brain manages to put together. Soft looking even where it’s damp at the temples where sweat has pooled. He has it pulled back with a couple of the same butterfly clips that Carol likes to use.
His second, somehow more hysterical thought: this wasn’t how Steve Harrington was supposed to be included in his wedding.
Tommy was six years old and knew he wanted to marry Steve. When he’d told his mom -- to ask for her ring, Steve thought it was romantic like princes and princesses that they had a special ring that they got married with -- she’d grabbed by his arm so hard it’d left finger shaped bruises. So he’d held that certainty quiet in his heart until he was ten, and suddenly it was okay to want to play with girls on the playground -- he thinks it’s because Steve got tired of there never being an even number when they tried to play kickball, he had a way of making everyone want to do the thing he was. Carol wasn’t afraid to tell Tommy C. that he was dumb or to tell Mark L. that he hadn’t actually made it to the base, Steve liked her fast. Too fast, and Tommy had to tell her that one day he was going to be able to keep Steve all to himself. But he knew that it wasn’t right to say that now, even if he wasn’t all the way sure why it wasn’t. He was ten, but he would be eleven soon, and he took this part of him that he’d kept secret for so long and he whispered it to Carol under the slide while Steve tried to convince Brad P. that he could too pick two people for his kickball team first.
He was ten and Carol said they could share. Boys can’t marry boys, but girls can. So they could both marry her and live together forever.
It became a joke when they finally shared it with Steve, thirteen and boys going out with girls wasn’t funny the way it used to be. Sarah Jane asked Carol if she had a chance at going steady with Steve. She told Tommy about it later and they both told Steve that he was too good to date any of the girls in their grade. “Well I’ve got you guys,” his voice cracked when he said it, throwing an arm around both of them. Carol didn’t care as much, but even she’d noticed the way Steve was changing from boyish to handsome.
They were sixteen and disaster was just around the corner, not that he knew that. Steve dated around but he always came back to them. The head, the heart, the body. They don’t feel complete without each other -- at least Tommy doesn’t. Mr. Kripke, who was hungover more often than he wasn't, passed out ten minutes into study hall. Carol didn’t even wait to see if he’d wake back up before she left her assigned table for theirs. She smoothed out a lined piece of notebook paper for them, and Tommy scoffed like he was supposed to. “Aren’t we a little old to be playing MASH?”
“It’s dirty MASH, and I thought you’d think it was funny.”
“I think it’s funny,” Steve had said, “that you’re getting eiffel towered on your wedding night. Who else is joining in, Carrie?”
“We couldn’t agree on who got you for their side of the aisle. So we’re taking you to bed instead.”
He was sixteen and the way that the two of them looked when they shared a joke was the hottest thing in the world. The way their smiles mirror when they turned to him, sharp and ready to flay open the softest parts of him.
Tommy’s two days older when Steve lets him kiss the taste of Carol out of his mouth.
It was three days after he turned seventeen and he had to pretend he didn't want to die when he saw how Steve looked at Nancy Wheeler. Like he didn’t want to rip his hair out because Steve was fucking infatuated with this mousy little teacher’s pet and wouldn’t even look at him anymore.
He still doesn’t like to think about the breakup. He pokes it like a fresh bruise. Less often now, but when he does he digs his fingers in. Baits Carol into fights he doesn’t mean just so he can pretend like he hasn’t lost something that hurts like a limb.
Steve Harrington turns twenty-eight next week, and he’s standing in front of them both holding pieces of what might turn into their wedding cake.
“Wow I can’t believe you’re in Indy!” False excitement grates, but at least Carol has gotten herself together enough to speak. He thought he’d have at least another few months to prepare for the thought of seeing Steve, by their ten year reunion he was going to be married and happy and over it.
“Yeah, this is- Married, wow! I kinda can’t believe you haven’t already.” He says it to Carol, his platitudes had always been for Carol, but his eyes find Tommy.
While Carol chatters at them and for them both, nervous, he knows she’s nervous. The situation is sudden and strange and fraught. But Tommy just looks at Steve, who looks at him. He’s getting married in three months, one week, and two days from now and for the first time in eleven years Steve is looking at him.
"Takes a while to save up for when you want the best of everything. Dad's still the skinflint he always was, I think he'd pay me less than minimum wage if he could get away with it."
And those soft brown eyes look so sad, looking at him. Sometimes he thinks no one will ever understand him the way that Steve did.
"There's nothing wrong with wanting the best, or having a long engagement." Carol defends. It's the same line she's been giving everyone. Defensive of him and herself and the choices they've been making. He can't believe Steve is someone she thinks they have to defend against.
“I really hope you're happy, man," he says, and the sincerity is a balm on the sting of this conversation. He pushes his hair back from his face, the way he always has when he's uncomfortable and trying not to make it obvious. And there's a fresh new hurt when Tommy catches sight of a plain gold band on Steve's finger, shining bright between the golden highlights of his hair.
“I’m happy about this,” he can say honestly. Carol is one of the only things he’s ever been sure about. She held him steady as she could when his other sure thing left him with a cracked foundation in a convenience store parking lot. “What about you? How long after meeting the future Mrs. Harrington did you wait to put a ring on her finger?”
“Tommy,” Carol chides as the teen in the corner snorts. To anyone else it would sound like a reprimand for being nosy, he, and he suspects Steve, knows she’s telling him to stop worrying a scab that has no hope of healing right.
Married and they didn’t know. Wouldn’t have found out until the reunion. It’s not like he expected an invitation, maybe an engagement announcement sent to their parents’ houses. They’d sent one to Loch Nora when the real ring had finally made it to Carrie’s finger. It was equal parts olive branch and offering. They’d gotten it back return to sender with no forwarding address.
The bell above the door tongs again, loud enough to make Carol jump. The platter of cakes doesn't shift at all in Steve’s hand. His arm shows no sign of fatigue. It’s almost distracting enough that he misses the obvious. The bell signals someone is coming into the store.
“Sorry, Sweetheart. I know I said I wasn't gonna be late but Mike…” There just inside the door is the Freak. Undeniable even with his head down as he digs through his shoulder bag. From the riot of poorly maintained tangles that still hang around his shoulders to the expanded mess of tacky ink on his arms. The only thing that’s changed is the age in his face and the band on his shirt.
“Munson?” Carol has the reflexes and the personal grace to address him first. Shock more than the disgust it might have been when they were still kids.
Tommy feels like a kid still. Looks to Steve in an instinct he’d thought he’d stamped out years ago, only to be met with wide eyes and teeth grit tight enough to draw out the square line of his jaw.
“Christ, I still get nightmares that start like this.” Munson says, eye darting between the three of them. “Max, am I naked?”
“Don't know, don't wanna know.”
“I thought you'd be able to tell by the energy in the room.” He wiggles his fingers, still bedecked in silver, like they can divine the vibrations or some witchy shit.
That’s enough to make Steve break just a little. A soft, exhaling scoff before he finally starts to move out from the counter. Tommy catches, and he doubts Carol misses it either, how Steve passes the closer tables to set his tray down between them and Munson.
“I can tell I don't want to be here for this.” Their redheaded audience member says, “I'm taking my 15.”
“Don't go harass Mike, he's finally working,” Munson says.
“Will and El are on shift on the other side,” Steve calls out, not looking at any of them as he moves cakes from his tray to the table. A deliberate selection he seems to be making.
“Whatever, I’m gonna call Lucas and break up with him so he can play better or whatever.”
“Don’t be too harsh,” Munson calls out, “I’ve only got him on a five point spread.”
If Carol’s nails break from how hard they’re digging into his arm, somehow it’ll be Tommy’s fault. Not the fact that they’ve advanced the worst part of their ten year reunion by months, and also Munson is here and knows shit about basketball.
“Sorry, think my hearing’s going, sounded like you said you want him to lose and he’s getting kicked from the next one shot. I’ll let him know.”
“She gets that from you,” Steve and Munson say in sync. Glaring playfully at one another the way Steve used to with Carol.
“I’ll tell Robin you were-”
“Do not sick Buckley on me, Max made the deaf joke not me.”
“Weird, that’s not what I heard.” Steve has always claimed his hair as his best feature. It isn’t -- Carrie liked his eyes, Tommy his hands -- but it’s hard to deny that it doesn’t look good, flipping over his shoulder. His smile is private, just for Munson, soft the way he got whenever he picked up a new girl. Carrie taps the back of his hand, two sharp smacks, their signal for years that he needed to pay attention and notice something she had. Wide, nervous eyes dart to Steve -- like he hadn’t already been looking at Steve -- so he does his best to assess the way Carol would.
Jealous, viciously, Steve had been theirs in every way that mattered since they were ten years old and Carol had never liked sharing her toys with anyone but them. She watched his face for any sign of unhappiness anytime a new girlfriend came along, and when she found one she passed it along to him. So he could pick and joke until Steve was all theirs again.
So he checked the face. Tried to ignore the way Steve was lit up from the inside out with a joy he could barely remember, and then he saw the hearing aid.
He tapped back, three times. O.M.G.
“The 1985 Homecoming court here to reveal that this has all been a long con, Stevie?”
“Yeah I faked the name change paperwork and picked up a fake ID, sorry I took my business somewhere else.” Steve says it with the sincerity he’s always made those kind of jokes with, his strange sense of humor never coming across when he always sounded so serious.
Munson gets it though, snorts loud and ugly, before a smile pulls wide across half his face the otherside taught with a gnarly scar. “Now I know why my fake ID business went belly up when we got to the city, not like I only sold three in high school.” He gestures to the three of them in a wide arc.
Sophomores, they had decided it was time to throw their first real party now that Steve’s parents had moved out of Hawkins in all but name. Steve was a latchkey kid of new proportions and took to self sufficiency in a way that had seemed adult to him then; and in hindsight looked more like a child fighting for his life. Steve bragged how he’d been saving up the weekly checks they’d sent to ‘sustain him’ while they worked in the city during the week. His contribution to Tommy and Carol’s vague plan to throw a kegger by the pool. When they’d floundered, immediately, with the hows, Steve had been the one to suggest going to Munson.
“Love this preview of the reunion,” Carol cuts in, there’s no bite but Munson bristles anyway like she’s being rude for reminding them that there are customers present. “Steve?”
It’s funny, Tommy thinks, the way Steve still straightens his back at Carol’s tone. All this time and he can’t fight the old ingrained instincts either.
“Dustin made the appointment,” Steve apologizes, even as he’s posture perfect and preparing his pastries. The unsaid, ‘I definitely wouldn’t have’ doesn’t go unheard and it doesn’t sting any less even this far from their last interaction.
“Munson could join us,” Tommy offers, a new olive branch since their last one was never seen. Even if it does raise three sets of brows and makes Carrie’s nervous smile tighten even more in the corner of her mouth.
“Well at least one of us has to,” Munson, Eddie, says. Just says, tone like it was meant to be something said under his breath.
He's grown up a lot since high school, they both have. Still, he's only got twenty minutes left on his lunch break and it's been a long day. "God, is that why it's called that?" Growth, he doesn't say that Steve Munson sounds a lot dumber than Steve Harrington.
"It's charming," Carol and Steve both say. Though Carrie is definitely lying and Steve barely gets it out from between his gritted teeth, a sore spot. He's always been good at finding Steve's bruises.
"It's charming," Tommy agrees, like he always did when he was out voted.
Eddie has a smirk spread across his face and a ‘too proud of himself’ look in his eyes. Mouth open to make some quip that Tommy is going to pretend is funny, for Steve’s sake. Now that they’re here, he’s going to do something to show that they could talk to one another again. Steve clicks his tongue, taps his index and middle finger down to his thumb two quick times before he can.
He turns to the girl in the corner, "Erica, scram, go help Robin and the kids with the new donation that just came in."
The teen continues to scribble in the notebook in front of her, bulky headphones over her ears, she makes no sign that Tommy can see that she's heard Steve speak. "Erica, go, or I'll tell your mother you moved out of the dorms. You're 20, it's not child labor, and you've got a timecard."
She sighs and wordlessly packs up her things, she gives Steve a scathing look that takes Tommy back to high school. The withering eyebrow and rolled eyes would have been just at home on Steve’s own face in 1985, but she marches behind the counter, the sound of her dish rattling in the sink before she disappears out the same door that the redhead had gone out.
Now that the room has been cleared, an awkward silence has found the space to squeeze in. Munson, the original, still standing in the doorway and Steve standing between his unlawfully wedded husband and the two people who had lost their chance at him years ago.
The wedding and the reunion both on the horizon had dredged up a nostalgia that Tommy and Carol had been dealing with in their own ways. Dredging up old yearbooks, Carol had found a shoebox of old notes that she’d kept. Conversations written in three different inks by three different hands, nonsensical after all this time. Tommy woke up from dreams that he hadn’t had in years. Always of Steve and Carol, a study in opposites, but similar where it mattered.
“Well,” Steve says, taking charge of the situation like he always would when the other two faltered, “you’re here for a reason. We might as well get started on it.”
Steve’s fingerprints are still on them, just like he’d noticed theirs on him, molded as they were together. They’ve always bowed to his expectations, and his whims. When he ushers them to the table with a spread hand, Tommy and Carol go where they’re beckoned.
And so does Munson.
They keep an empty chair between them, an artificial divide for Tommy’s sanity, but with the sprawl of Munson’s legs their knees still occasionally brush together. Carol had taken the spot closest to Steve, who has stayed standing. He is their gracious host, marking the head of the round table.
“I pulled out the full sampler before I realized it was you,” Steve says. Even with as off balance as the interaction has felt, Tommy doesn’t feel his hackles raising. While it’s possible he’s gotten more subtle with his digs, Steve’s vicious tongue was usually unmistakable. “I can tell you about as many of them as you want though if you want to pretend like we don’t already know what I’ll be making you. I’m sure neither of you have eaten lunch yet.”
“You are going to take us on?” Carol asks. Shock always gives her tone an extra edge, defensive and catty, even if she’s really just waiting to see if another shoe will drop.
“Obviously,” Steve says, placing a faintly orange square of cake in front of her. He slaps Eddie’s hand away from another piece without looking away from either of them. “That’s as far as I’ll be going in participation though.”
He doesn’t miss the way Steve’s mouth twitches up with the joke, a filthy smirk that leaves Tommy flushing hot. Too warm to not be a bright and obvious red at the acknowledgment of that old private in-joke.
It doesn’t get better when Carol moans, “Oh my god, Steve!” Even if it is about the cake.
He laughs, and Tommy suspects the two are actually trying to kill him. He chances a glance over at Munson who looks like he doesn’t care at all that his husband has made Tommy’s fiance moan. He is watching Tommy though, an inquisitive look like the one Carol gets when she happens to catch a nature documentary.
“Yeah,” Steve agrees with Carol, “I’ll do something small with that citrus cake for you and Tom so you’ve got something you’ll actually eat on your wedding, maybe a pineapple buttercream on top like that nasty Juicy Fruit gum you like so much.”
“I mean it’s really crazy how you’re so good at this when you’ve never had any taste,” Carol compliments, she never did learn how to be nice.
He could probably count Steve’s teeth in the answering smile. Tommy can feel it like an ache in his chest how much he missed this. He snatches another cube of cake off the tray just so has something else to focus on.
“That’s the fancy one for the people who hate their guests,” Munson says as the cake has settled on the flat of Tommy’s tongue.
“It’s lavender,” Steve corrects, and the floral flavor is lodged in the back of his throat at least gives him a reason now to feel so choked up. “And it is for a particular sort of bride.”
“Are you saying I’m not fancy and particular, Munson?” Carol asks.
She’s obviously talking to Eddie Munson, who lifts his hands up in answer. But it’s Steve who says, “If you tried to feed that to Gail she would leave the reception bitching the whole time.”
“Well go on,” Tommy finds himself goading now that he’s swallowed, “finish calling your shot, Stevie. You said you knew what we were walking out of here with.”
Carol reaches across the table, locking eyes with Eddie as she snags the piece closest to him. The one his fingers had been inching toward like he thought Steve wouldn’t notice him trying to take it.
“I’ll make a small citrus cake for you, Carrie, we’ll hide it in the back of the larger cake so you can get the pictures of you cutting it and smashing into each other's faces-”
“We will not be doing that,” she interrupts, the warning for him and also unnecessary. He already knows how she feels about being embarrassed in public.
“Then the big cake for your guests will be a chocolate cake, I can cover it in a buttercream or a fondant icing also chocolate, because it’s the only kind of cake the Hagan family will eat. Even though I’m sure John hasn’t given you a dime for the wedding, he’ll complain until Hannah gets married if he doesn’t like the cake.”
“Really,” Steve continues, “the only thing up in the air is how many people you were able to get away with not inviting, Care.”
The two of them start talking actual wedding logistics, and as Tommy grabs another bite of cake -- this one looks like it might be a normal flavor -- he figures the real show of good faith would be talking to the only other person at the table while he eats what Steve correctly dubbed his lunch.
“Y’know he never actually answered me,” he says in an undertone.
Munson seems surprised at being spoken to, only widens his eyes in response to Tommy’s unasked question.
“I asked Steve how soon after the first date he proposed, he never actually answered.”
Eddie softens at the edges before he can even say anything. Steve had a way of doing that, bringing out the romantic in a person. He loved with a passion that demanded it be matched. “Technically I proposed to him, but he says it doesn’t count because we weren’t together and I was high on morphine after a major surgery and thought he was Apollo, come to whisk me away.” The smile on Munson’s face looks dopey and drugged up now, like the very memory of whatever hospital stay is so ingrained in his mind he can feel the high now.
“But,” he goes on, “he told me we were getting married whether it was legal or not about three months after he got legally married to another woman.”
“Stop,” Steve has always been able to sense when he’s about to be the butt of the joke. He has a finger pointed at Eddie like a teacher delivering a lecture. “You can’t tell people that. It was for tax reasons, I’m not cheating on my wife.”
“You say tomato, I say whichever one of us is your least favorite has to be the extramarital affair.”
“I say, you’re the most obnoxious person I’ve ever met.” Tommy can hear the warm affection behind the insult, the way their picking is a safer way to express their passion for one another.
He thought he would be jealous of whoever finally managed to reel in Steve Harrington for good, and he is. The emotion is there, present in the snarling tangle of emotions that this encounter has left in him. One that he and Carol will have to slowly tease and pick out tonight when they’re home in bed. Trying to make sense of what each thread is and what it means for them. But the one bright pulsing thread he can make sense of is happiness. He’s happy for Steve, happy that he gets to see an old friend so at ease and obviously cared for.
And he’s sad that his time is up, his lunch hour so close to an end he’ll be late getting back to the office. Something he can already hear his Dad and fucking Greg giving him shit for. Which means they have to end their time here.
Steve walks them to the door, flips the sign to mark them closed for lunch.
“Congratulations again, you two,” he says, “I really am happy I can get to be a part of this with you all. Even if it’s a little different than we used to imagine.”
Carol reaches out for the both of them, puts her hand on his arm. Tommy finds that he’s the one who actually says, “We’re glad you found someone who makes you this happy, dude. You deserve it.”
“Yeah, he’s alright most of the time.” It's said with such fondness it becomes a declaration. It’s hard to imagine how they thought they could ever be the something that could make Steve this happy. But maybe in a different life, under different circumstances it could have been.
There’s a minute where they all stand in the doorway. He wonders if they’re all afraid that this might be the last time they see each other, speak to one another, until Steve is delivering the cake on the day of the wedding. Maybe it’s just him, he was the one who pushed back the hardest after things ended.
Someone finally gives in and pushes the door open. It’s TONG a death toll for their current conversation. But it also sends a jolt through Steve, he straightens to his full height like a shock has gone through him. “Here,” he says, “here, um.” He digs around in his apron until he finds a pen and a receipt pad. Jots down something before tearing it off and putting it in Tommy’s hands, “It's our home number, in case you have any cake emergencies or something.”
They really can’t stay any longer.
Carol takes the note, better at keeping track of these things than Tommy is. It’s hard to know if they’ll actually use it, maybe after they talk about it, but if they do she’ll be the one to do it. She’s always been braver than him.
There’s no way of guaranteeing anything but the fact that they’ll have a cake on the table on their wedding day. But he hopes that Steve might stay for the ceremony once he brings it, he can even bring Eddie if that’s what gets him there.
Alone in his car, Tommy lets himself take a minute to think about Steve Harrington one last time. He isn’t going to get what he wanted as a kid. Doubts that he’ll ever be as close to Steve as he’d been in childhood, too much time has passed and too much has changed.
But there’s an opportunity to get to know Steve Munson, and he isn't going to pass it up. Even if he doesn’t know how to name a bakery.
#steddie#steddie fic#implied past stomarol#Baker Steve Harrington#my fic#tommy x carol#tomarol#genuinely don't know what their ship name is I'm sorry#future fic#the author is experiencing some complicated emotions about their 10 year reunion and this is now the second fic I've posted this year-#-that's mentioned one so clearly forcing fictional characters to emote about it for me is not working#the terrible trio do own every business in the little storefront Tommy mentions and they employ the kids who they have a stable income-#-while they work on their passion projects
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DoL School LI's and their Dungeons and Dragons Characters
HERE'S SOMETHING NOBODY ASKED FOR.
Disclaimer: I never played DnD, but I did play Pathfinder, and maaaany years of World of Warcraft. This makes me FULLY QUALIFIED to make this post.
Robin the Orphan – Human Wizard
Robin would go for something familiar and pretty traditional – human characters are adaptable and dependable. Especially if low on confidence, Robin would stick to what they know – nothing too outlandish. Mages are known for their ability to reshape reality, which is very appealing to Robin. What they lack in defence, they make up for in spellpower. Robin literally can’t imagine anything cooler than donning a robe and casting fireballs; pew pew pew.
Sydney the Faithful – Half-Elf Cleric
Half-elf is just about as exotic as Pure Sydney would go right away, and only after getting the okay from Jordan. Nothing screams elf like a Tolkienesque strawberry blonde ponytail. Half-elves are often outcast for not quite fitting in with either the human or elf world, which Syd would find pretty relatable given their struggle. They’d be drawn to the cleric class for it’s obvious link to spirituality and divinity. Syd would be more than happy to be the group healer – but can deal plenty of damage themselves when pushed too far.
Sydney the Fallen – Teifling Bard
Corrupt Sydney would absolutely roll a new character – something outlandish, dangerous and a little romantic. Teifling suits them perfectly - curled horns, sharp teeth a pointed tail… sounds pretty sinful if you ask me. Bards are known for their silver tongues, speechcraft and charm. It’s a versatile class – think jack-of-all-trades - and Corrupt Sydney would want to try everything they never had the chance to before. Spellcasting? Check. Melee weapons? Check. Musical instruments? Why the fuck not?
Kylar the Loner – Halfling Rogue
A stab-you-in-the-ankles kinda character. Naturally stealthy, halflings survive by going under the radar - literally between the feet of the bigfolk. Rogue is an obvious choice– sneaky and cunning with a talent for thievery. Like Kylar, rogues are natural infiltrators who are light on their feet and can pick a lock like nobody’s business. Many rogues are also skilled potion makers – be it elixirs, poisons or… pepper spray. Oh, and Kylar’s already pretty experienced with knives - they'd probably bring it to the session along with their sketchbook.
Whitney the Bully – Orc Barbarian
Let’s be real, they’d never agree to play – it sounds fucking stupid. But if you could convince them, it’d be with the promise that they could do whatever they wanted. The game’s completely open ended, after all. So, Whitney would want to have it all – lording it over the nerds by having the biggest, strongest character with the biggest, stupidest weapon. Orcs are ferocious in battle, with a tribal culture that doesn’t make much sense to outsiders. Barbarians have a natural toughness and a stubborn will. Whitney would punch the innkeeper. Why? Because fuck you, that’s why.
How'd I do? Agree/disagree? Who's writing the fanfic with PC as Dungeon Master?
#dol#degrees of lewdity#dol headcanons#robin the orphan#sydney the faithful#sydney the fallen#kylar the loner#whitney the bully#dol robin#dol sydney#dol kylar#dol whitney#dol dnd au
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OnK Chapter 149
I know it doesn’t mean much coming from me because I’m always complaining about Aka’s writing, but…
And I mean it when I say that I expect nothing 😭 This was literally my first ever OnK-related reblog and its tags are more relevant than ever lmao
These, too:
#honestly I didn’t think too hard about any of this during my first read #because the romantic endgame seems so obvious that it kind of discourages guessing lmao #but re-reading these chapters has made me appreciate Aqua’s side of his bond with Akane a lot more
Back when I first got into OnK, I mentioned that Akane was the entire reason I kept reading the manga. I didn’t care about the romantic subplot, found Aqua/Kana extremely obvious and predictable, and Aqua plain boring.
It’s only during my second read that I paid close attention to Akane’s interactions with Aqua and I ended up playing myself into both, caring about Aqua and shipping him with Akane lol
This chapter has made me realize that despite everything, I'm not emotionally invested in whether they end up together or not. I’d prefer it, obviously, because Aqua truly is at his most interesting whenever he’s around Akane, and their dynamic has the best development in the manga (so far).
But it’s just like I said before: If they don’t end up together, that’s just Aka’s loss, not mine. I’m just here for Akane 😂
And as an Akane fan, I feel like the best thing for me to do right now is to just take a step back and watch things unfold, because Aka will do whatever he wants regardless of how any of us interpret his manga lol
So instead of posting the long post I originally wrote about this chapter when the leaks came out, I'll just share a a clown gif because in hindsight it was silly of me to expect Kana out of all people to have any sort of meaningful insight into Aqua 🤡
And a couple of things that caught my eye because I can't help myself:
Kana didn't even see Aqua and Akane have any sort of meaningful moment, just those two standing in each other's vicinity was enough to make her throw herself a pity party. How many more times is she going to pity herself and give up? How has Aka not tired of writing her this way? Where did her development from the Scandal arc go? 🤡
So Chapter 147 featured Kamiki thinking Ai doesn't love him and Kana thinking Aqua likes her. It even had a helpful "Cut 139: Misunderstanding" panel and everything. Will this mean something? Who knows!
Kana used guilt-trip! It was super effective!
Oh the irony! Poor Akane looks like she's been hard at work convincing herself that she's over Aqua. And you know what? I cheer for her and respect her energy 100%. I'd rather see her doing her mightiest to help him without any ulterior motives than to have her crying for him and hoping to get back with him every other chapter lol
Akane calling Kana out for her pity-party and for being cowardly was so cathartic that if I didn't already stan her, I'd have become a fan right now 😭 It also means that Aka is 100% aware of the way he writes Kana, so when will she finally be allowed to grow?
Kana's praise to Akane made me so sad though because yes, Akane is pretty and she's talented and she's kind. That's sweet of her to say. But that's not what made Akane someone special to Aqua: it was the way she understood him. The worst part is that Kana ends her praise by saying that Akane is a "goody-two-shoes" but... that's the opposite of how Akane views herself. She sees herself as someone who's not decent and not normal. So it's no wonder that while she gets flustered (it's her dear kana-chan praising her), she seems to get a bit sad/frustrated afterward. After all, for Akane it's probably the opposite. Men would prefer a decent, normal, bright girl like Kana - Aqua included.
I wish someone would tell Akane that she is too ignorant of her own charms and that she doesn't have to act like an adult all the time. Truly the pot calling the kettle black! Sadly, unlike Kana, Akane seems to have no one in her corner in this manga. Aqua was the only one there and the poor guy is barely even a character anymore lol
Overprotective mother or controlling ex-girlfriend? Take your pick!
The English translation left something pretty important out in these panels. Akane doesn't just say "if you have a girlfriend", she says "if you have a precious/important girlfriend". This distinction is very important because it goes to show that... as expected, Akane doesn't think she was an important girlfriend to Aqua. It's like she didn't count and Kana would be the real deal. Oh, Akane...
Which takes me to her very silly, very convoluted yet very predictable plan (in true Aka fashion).
When Akane thinks “I know exactly what you hate”, I imagine she means that Aqua hates hurting and endangering those he cares for. So I'm guessing Akane thinks that if she plays matchmaker and quite literally throws Kana at him, someone he has a soft spot, then Aqua won't be able to go through with his revenge because that would mean breaking Kana's very fragile heart.
In other words, it looks like Akane is going to try and use Aqua's guilt-complex against him and her weapon of choice is love. But not her love, obviously, because as far as she's concerned, her romantic love already failed to save him.
Granted, using Kana's romantic feelings to her advantage is kind of... well, wrong. To quote Akane herself, [Kana] is neither her pet nor her property, but a person. But I'm guessing that Akane may be falling victim to the same loophole she got caught in in Chapters 96 - 98. She thinks she knows what's best, so she's putting her own beliefs aside for the time being.
Kind of like Aqua, actually.
And, ironically, it's Aqua himself who first realized how easy Kana is to use.
So! All in all, I'm here for Mastermind!Akane but I hope that Aka will actually make it worth our while. Will Kana realize that she's about to be used as a chess piece in this Proxy War? Who knows, characters in this manga seem to walk in circles, only being allowed to grow when it fits the plot 😂
Last week we wondered whether Aka would subvert expectations or go the predictable route, and down the predictable route he went. His way of making it less predictable is by including a twist in the form of Akane's ulterior motives, but will this be enough to allow this ol' used trope to lead us someplace new? I guess we'll have to keep reading to find out, but given the quality of the writing lately, I'm not expecting much lol
#my aquakane meta#except not quite#being constantly let down by aka is so bittersweet because there's a part of me that's like hahaha I knew it!#while another is just like: sigh why is he always like this#I thought my expectations were already ground level but I'll lower them a bit more just in case#just please let akane keep serving#that's all I ask for#and if someone can at some point in the manga actually#you know#help her#that would be pretty cool too#because she's basically carrying the entire plot on her shoulders right now yet no one offers her any kind of emotional support at all lmao
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The Invitation
Itadori Yuuji, a young Japanese-American man, finds himself without a family after his grandfather's death. Despite his strong bond with his friends Fushiguro Megumi and Kugisaki Nobara, he reconnects with his long-lost family through a DNA test. Unfortunately, they see an opportunity where he sees a family.
wc: 1,024
ship: sukuita
characters: Yuuji, Megumi, Nobara, (Choso, Sukuna, Uraume -> not here yet)
notes: creating my JJK tumblr and balancing my fics (1) here before posting again (fingers crossed)
PART ONE: SALVATION
CHAPTER ONE: ALONE NO MORE
The tag of his white shirt was rubbing against Yuuji's nape, he should have cut it before leaving his flat he thought for a while. The little piece of fabric was slowly getting on his nerves, and the fundraiser kept on going as if it would never stop. He almost sighed as he went past a woman in what was probably a month's worth of his salary. Yuuji smiled and showed the tray he was holding:
“Beef carpaccio?” He offered the woman. She looked him up and down and ignored him.
Yuuji kept walking through the crowd. One man got close enough to smell him and recognizing the sweet honeyed scent of an omega, he winked at him. Yuuji almost barfed in his mouth. He looked back at the bar where Nobara was filling the champagne glass, looking as if she wanted to open her wrists with a broken flute. Yuuji chuckled and kept asking around him if people wanted to eat beef carpaccio. One woman didn’t even turn and shushed him as she watched whatever CEO talking about his company's annual growth. He couldn’t wait until this was over.
Megumi was already in the kitchen putting food in plastic containers for them to take home. Yuuji almost begged him to leave the beef carpaccio out of his, he couldn’t even handle the smell of it now that he had carried a tray of raw meat the entire evening. Megumi’s tips were on the table waiting for Yuuji’s and Nobara’s, they would slip the total amount into three, and sometimes, depending on their finances, one of them would get a bigger cut to be able to pay their rent.
Nobara opened the doors to the kitchen and sighed loudly before trashing her heels. She fetched the tips from her pockets and slammed the money on the countertop. Yuuji started counting when a small bag dropped in front of him and another in front of Megumi:
“I managed to snatch three of them,” Nobara grinned. “I think there is wine in it.”
“Drunkard,” Yuuji teased still counting the bills.
“Ass, You’re letting me sleep at yours as an apology.”
Megumi snorted before he closed the last plastic container and handed it to Nobara. He pocketed his share of the tips and turned to face Nobara:
“I got one ass grazing,” he said matter-of-factly. Nobara whistled.
“Boobs ogling, I’m not mad I’m pretty sure I got bigger tips because of it.”
“One ass squeeze and a couple of rude sniffs,” Yuuji smiled from where he stood.
“Fucking alphas,” Nobara sighed.
In the end, Megumi and Nobara slept at Yuuji’s, they knew it was his birthday. Even if he didn’t say anything, Yuuji felt relieved to spend the evening with them. It was only his second birthday since his grandfather had passed, and last year had been miserable, Yuuji was determined to spend a better one this year.
Toothbrush between her teeth, Nobara opened his bathroom door and poked her head into the living room:
“Whot wash it about twuday?”
“Some kind of genealogy tree with DNA,” Megumi answered speaking fluently mouthful Nobara.
“I shink there is a free techt in the bags.”
Yuuji looked in his gift bag and found a small bottle of white wine, chocolates and plastic wrapping which would change his life forever. A house kit DNA test. Megumi was staring at him from his side of the couch:
“You wanna try?” Yuuji asked.
“Nah, got enough disappointing family members with my dad, I don’t need more. You?”
“I don’t know,” Yuuji hesitated. “It’s just, it’s always been my grandad and me. And now I feel kind of alone, I know I have you guys but sometimes I just want to know where I came from and stuff, what was the deal with my family,” Megumi didn’t answer for a while.
“It’s your decision Yuuji, you’re more my family than my dad, you know that?”
“Yeah,” Yuuji answered slowly eaten by guilt. Megumi was his family too, and Nobara too. But sometimes, in the loneliness of his flat, he couldn’t be sure of his place in the world.
“Dude, do the test, maybe you’re an heir to a big family or something. It doesn’t mean anything, it’s just a test,” Megumi added. “I don’t know how it feels to be alone, to have no one to call family. I got my mom’s side and Tsumiki. What I want to say is: do it if you want to.”
“Thanks,” Yuuji mumbled. Megumi wasn’t always the most articulate, it probably took a lot from him to say all of that. It felt like a lot to Yuuji. “You’re like a brother to me, you know that?”
Megumi didn’t answer but he smiled at him and dropped his head against Yuuji’s shoulder. Nobara went to sit on the other side of Yuuji and dropped herself over him, she had probably been listening to them. She smelled of mint toothpaste and Megumi of the caramel candies he had been eating. Yuuji sighed, slowly he felt his shoulders relax and the nagging headache he had had for a while receded. It felt like a home. Like a family. He enjoyed it, tomorrow his flat would be cold and empty.
Yuuji dropped the DNA test in the mail. It was just a stupid test like Megumi said. It didn’t mean anything and it would probably not show any result. For all he knew he was a simple Japanese-American man whose family had immigrated in the late nineteenth century. He probably had estranged cousins or no one at all. Determined to forget all about it Yuuji went back to his normal life as a waiter and artist. He focused even more on his tasks in order to have his brain focus on something else than refreshing his ancestry page. He didn’t talk about it with Megumi or Nobara too happy to spend time with them when they could meet up. Until one evening, when he was cutting the cucumbers to make tzatziki his phone beeped.
Congratulations
You have one (1) DNA match!
Masterpost
Next Chapter
Chapter List
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Well, hello again.
It's been a very busy month, and I have roughly nothing left in my head, but it's Wednesday okay, and that's finally aligning with a day I ended up driving home thinking I want to do a wip post okay. So first, thank you to everyone still commenting on Musical Chairs, and I'm sorry to anyone who's been hoping I can get the last chapter out in a timely manner. I can't, obviously, but as a sad offering in that chapter's stead, I have here An Ode to How Soundly Musical Chairs Is Kicking My Ass.
This is a multimedia presentation. In this essay I will-
I don't have a posting goal anymore. As soon as possible is a moving target. But I do have two deleted scenes, and here's one.
“Stupidity has no bearing on whether or not I hate something,” Baz said.
“No? The two’ve always struck me as pretty intertwined,” Niamh said, picking up her drink. And then, like it was a completely separate observation, “I’ve noticed you seem to hate a lot of things.”
I also have 44 pages at the top of my Miscellany document that contain nothing but snippets for musical chairs, and scenes cut from musical chairs, and scenes rewritten for musical chairs, and checklists made for musical chairs, and all caps yelling for musical chairs, and-
Featuring such goodies as:
And:
So in theory. And I hate this because I’D HAVE TO REWRITE AGAIN but in theory.
And:
[HEY MAYBE JUST FULLY FUCKING SWITCH TRAJECTORY AND GO] “[Redacted].”
Baz raised an eyebrow. “[Also redacted].”
[FUCK BUT ACTUALLY. IT’S WEIRD AT THIS POINT. AFTER HE’S ALREADY PUSHED THIS MUCH. FUCK. YES OKAY MOVE IT UP TO COULD HAVE HAD SOME FUN. SIMON JUST PIVOTS FROM COMMITTING TO THAT/MAKING BAZ MAKE HIM COMMIT TO THAT BY SAYING HE DOES ACTUALLY HAVE SOMETHING TO TALK ABOUT. AND THE SCENE WILL DEFINITELY AND FOR SURE WORK THIS TIME AMEN.]
It's possible these latest two yellings are leading me in the right direction, but I don't know yet, because I made those notes and then dusted off my hands and ran walked away for a month. We'll see. I've at least started thinking about it again. (The trick is apparently pacing small circles around your enclosure while you're on hold with customer support for an hour.)
Here's that other deleted scene, as a treat. It was a treat for me, anyway, because I don't remember writing it.
“Despite our best efforts,” Agatha muttered, and everyone looked at her. She raised her eyebrows. “She started it. I was out for a week because of her.”
“You gave Agatha a concussion?” Baz smirked as Simon said, “You’ve had a concussion?”
“Yes,” Niamh answered, and Simon added, “That explains it.”
Agatha turned from whatever she’d been about to say, replacing it with, “Explains what?”
Simon gave a sad little hum and nudged her chin. “Why you don’t even know what it explains.”
By the way, the actual final chapter is 45 pages at present. One (1) page deeper than the burial ground for its failures. Though the burial ground has a lot of gaps between graves. That probably adds a few pages.
Anyhow, I do sincerely hope y'all will be able to read it before another 7 months have passed. I'll do my best. In the meantime, thank you to everyone who's still tagging me in things, and I'm sorry I disappear a lot and don't shower y'all with the love you deserve for it <3
Here's an incomplete mess of tags, because I do need to go do many other less fun things now.
@fatalfangirl @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @moodandmist @cutestkilla @whogaveyoupermission @aristocratic-otter @alexalexinii @iamamythologicalcreature @facewithoutheart @bookish-bogwitch @artsyunderstudy @ileadacharmedlife @ivelovedhimthroughworse @run-for-chamo-miles @rimeswithpurple @thewholelemon @forabeatofadrum @monbons
#wip wednesday#my writing#musical chairs#there are a lot more deleted scenes where that came from#but most are spoilers at this point#may it all someday see the light#ok it won't actually tag half of y'all#I really do have to go do other things so OH WELL I tried
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Procrastination is so rejuvenating 💆♀️ <- mostly sarcasm but genuinely I needed a break to do some silly (bad) composing. I cannot write good sheet music for the life of me. but I had fun :) Now I need to do my actual assignments 😭
#I’ve been wanting to write a song entirely in Solresol#(kind of poorly made but very extensive solfege-based conlang)#and I finally got around to writing an art song-ish arrangement with it but made some mistakes with my translations#and the words ARE the notes so that means I have to rewrite it all 😭#so I’m just giving up for now and I’ll work on it again later#I discovered there are names for all kinds of bugs in Solresol so I will be using those! >:)#anyway I figure even if I can’t keep singing for long I can still write/compose stuff#I just. have no knowledge of music theory 🥲#sigh#okay time to go do my assignments#I was busy literally all day yesterday and the day before so#I have to speedrun my multimedia project by Monday afternoon 😭#have I already posted this? probably. whatever#musicposting#🤓posting#all kinds of postingposting yk
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just once i would like to see one of those typical batman almost dying scenes where he comes super close to death and then last second his brain is like “no! gotham needs you” and then he survives with the power of whatever the fuck but instead of “gotham needs you” it’s “your children need you”
like yeah gotham is your city to protect or whatever that’s fine and fun but where’s the like… “you have kids at home bruce”
where is it dc
#if this has already happened reply with the comic panel#it probably has already happened but whatever#why am i constantly being criticized. what happened to good job op#im sure you did your best on this post op#i don’t even know what i’m talking about anyway have some dc content#bruce wayne#batman#batfam#batfamily#dc comics#dick grayson#jason todd#tim drake#cassandra cain#duke thomas#damian wayne#am i missing anyone#there are just so many
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Happy day 3 of DirkJake week.
Today’s theme was “Retro / Decades”… I am not sure if I even understood the theme right but I did them as like 50s greasers. For the decades part. Yeahh
#homestuck#homestuck fanart#dirk strider#hs fanart#jake english#blooby posting#dirkjakeweek24#I spent like 90% of this drawing watching those awful 3lame videos on the side#like “the twerk of 87“ and whatever other stuff#My friends all know this but I think that 3lame was kind of a genius#There is probably no one else in the world who could possibly have come up with that cuphead song#What a guy.#Also made banana muffins once again#I already ate like 6. I just may have a boring ass life#Hit me up I’ll mail you one of the remaining 4 if you’re lucky#you can receive a handcrafted cold and mouldy muffin in the mail#8-10 business days#Please no one hit me up.#I’m eating the rest tonight anyways#DirkJake
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Here's a list of Precure with their siblings
Younger brother
Younger sister
Multiple younger siblings
Twin brother
Older brother(s)
*Asuka mentions an older brother but he doesn't appear in the show
Older sister(s)
Older brother and sister
Also:
Not getting into the Love&Setsuna situation
Yuri and Aguri have a weird magically created sister situation
#probably should have included a pic of Yuri and Aguri since I already have Hikari but whatever#also Erika managed to photobomb all Heartcatch pictures#overall it was surprisingly hard to find decent pictures where the Cure is together with the siblings and with no other characters#long post#precure
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hello friends. despite my 9 million existing dreamling wips i'm feeling the need to branch out a bit for the sake of my mental variety. what pairing other than dreamling should i write a little something for? could be romantic or platonic
other way of phrasing i guess: any pairings you really want to see more fics for in the fandom?
#i actually do have one someone asked me for ages ago i've been meaning to get to so i'll try to do that too#bonus points if it still involves dream bc you know i love dream XD#probably wont do any romantic pairings /between/ the endless because well yeah#but open to exploring pretty much anything else... feel free to send whatever if you want. dont worry about if i'll like it#if i can't vibe with it or find it uncomfy i just won't write it no harm no foul#not me soliciting little prompts fully knowing that motivation is a fickle beast and who knows if i would get to writing them XD i want#to though! or like. idk. if anyone wants to share headcanons about their favorite pairings i am happy to receive them#the sandman#a couple that are bouncing around my head already:#rose meeting desire. this could be really interesting i think (they are of course her grandparent)#calliope and lucienne post-calliope's imprisonment: i think their dynamic could be interesting since they both have/had close relationships#with dream. but of course calliope's relationship with him fell apart. i think lucienne with whatever context of it she had would probably#be sympathetic to calliope's perspective but still staunchly On Dream's Side so the speak bc she is ultimately very loyal to him... could b#an interesting convo.#additionally - calliope and johanna. both suffered things recently. both had curious interactions with dream where they recently saw both#his vicious side AND a kinder more understanding side of him... [dream gave rachel a peaceful death at johanna's request etc]#but they've come out of their suffering really differently (granted it was different types of suffering. but)#wow here i am asking for people's ideas and then just coming up with my own XD#anyway#wait two others: i'm fascinated by the potential dynamic of lucienne and the corinthian they only had like one short scene together in the#show but can you imagine. spending eons being loyal to dream and then going opposite directions with that loyalty. being among dream's inne#circle so to speak except lucienne is her own entity while corinthian was /created/ by dream. they have the most fascinating venn diagram o#personality traits and narrative positions...#secondly. and this is kind of crack. but like. imagine johanna and corinthian in the same room XD 'hi i'm an exorcist and this is my pet#serial killer' 'yeah my lord gave me a vacation to go kill some demons' why doesn't he try to kill johanna? bc she tried to destroy him#first time they met and he can't help but respect it XD
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Well. hrm. the way they all connect to each other. like it’s all starting to look like a circle of some sort. jess as rory’s mirror/reflection/narrative foil but also jess as he pertains to luke and jess as he pertains to lorelai. luke breaking the church bells luke who says he was troubled but they gave him a chance and just bc a kid has issues doesnt mean they don’t deserve that. luke who is a figure placed against the rest of the town, just in the sense that he is not like them, he does not hold their values, he doesn’t even sound like them. which is of course a result of scott patterson’s new york accent, but adds to this theme anyway. and they use jess to build this picture, because they walk the same and talk the same and they’re stubborn—independent to a near self-endangering degree—and emotionally repressed in the same way and luke himself admits that he spent more time working at his dad’s shop than he did at school, which jess also does. but jess and luke are also. very very different when you get past these similar values that are maybe ingrained into them through different circumstances and same genetic makeup. and in their differences you get a lot of jess and lorelai’s similarities. when it comes to their family dynamics and how it’s affected them in particular. it’s made them independent yes, but it’s also made them hypervigilant, almost paranoid in the way they are allergic to accepting help and especially accepting help from the people who hurt them. jess only goes to his mother’s wedding because luke asks him to, lorelai only asks her parents for money because rory needs it for school. and they, and this is where they differ from luke, don’t know how to trust people and so they don’t know how to talk to people. where luke’s particular brand of emotional constipation comes from a general cluelessness as to how to do it—which is why the tapes helped him so much—lorelai and jess’ come from emotional responses to the situations they grew up in. while it was different—lorelai growing up rich, jess growing up poor—the effect it had on them still resulted in something similar. lorelai with her overbearing manipulative mother and (emotionally) absent father, and jess with his neglecting manipulative mother and (in all senses of the word) absent father. the ways that, despite their effort to distance themselves, they still end up with similar mannerisms to the parent they have the most conflict with (lorelai and her controlling nature + that scene where they have the same nighttime routine, jess and his love for books + tendency to run away). and of course, their romanticism. their big confessions and period drama-esque speeches and, yeah, i do think in a way jess was asking rory to marry him in 4x21. come with me. let’s get married. luke and rory both being the most important people in their lives. literati+javajunkie where they are all melding into each other, and luke is rory and lorelai is jess but on the surface level dynamic luke is jess and lorelai is rory and they are all each other. on accident. by sheer nature of making jess as a character for the sole purpose of interfering with luke and lorelai’s relationship (which means he is important narratively to them both) and by making him rory’s love interest/foil (because ASP casted him before she even had the idea for the character) you have now made an accidental blending of them all together. he is like a skeleton key of a character. Okay. okay.
#clocking in for my shift at the pattern recognition factory#literati#javajunkie#gilmore girls#i was also going to talk about how rory is ALSO a skeleton key of a character similar to how jess is because.#well all the lines about how she is ‘just like her mother’ wrt stubbornness and defiancy and iron will. but it was already. very long. so.#i’ll save it for another post.#and in that post i’ll probably talk about rory and jess and their dads and luke also. bc that is also missing from this post.#sorry they are so mucu.#so much.#literatijavajunkie is the sun that this show revolves around.#also ties into how jess literally is the only side character that is also a Main Character. in this show.#like compared to rorys other boyfriends where their only importance is to rorys character. jess is like. essential to the narrative.#which is why he’s the one that almost got a spin-off show. he has the functions of a main character the exact same way rory does.#which is why the show would have been about him and HIS dad. literally a direct mirror to the concept of a show about a daughter and a mom.#whatever this is all going to be. in another post.#there are more screenshots to be gathered anyway.#ggwatch#gg meta
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#rtte#httyd rtte#httyd#viggo grimborn#grimmel the grisly#I bring here my thoughts from the shower#that were brought to me by those posts about how that king from wish has kinda sorta viggo vibe#after scrolling through his tag for like 15 minutes I really see it now#king magnifico really seems like an alternative version of viggo#someone basically said hey what if we do viggo from rtte but he's a celebrity instead of businessman and has healthy sleep habits#his insomnia isn't even really gone and here I am missing it already#...do y'all think that lack of insomnia cancels king magnifico as an alternative version of viggo?#I've just thought that he probably would have insomnia in every universe#anyway#back to the topic#thinking of this potential alternative version got me reach back#to whatever it was that we saw in the 3rd movie#srsly what was that#yeah I mean whole 3rd movie#what was that#sorry it's got a bit long#me×rambling in the tags
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kdj trying to kill himself after seeing the OD is such a visceral and gut wrenching part of the book—
“Something was wrong. A blade… I, I needed to find a blade.” <- this scene (chapter 515) actually broke my heart, i genuinely felt sick reading it. he’s so desperate to die that it’s honestly palpable, it’s like finally seeing that truth behind the snarky mask kim dokja always wears. it took me until this point to realize that every time he tried to sacrifice himself for his companions, it wasn’t just a well thought out plan but a true, genuine suicidality and the acceptance that he might not come back. that he isn’t worthy of living a good, happy life with a happy ending. (which maybe i’m just slow, but i really fell for dokja’s lies, every single time i thought to myself “everything’s going to be fine because he has a plan to survive this,” and almost every single time i was right. except for the end i suppose.)
and fuck, it hits so, so hard.
#tw suicide#like i know thats already a big theme in the book but in this case i feel the need to very explicitly tag that#orv#omniscient reader's viewpoint#orv spoilers#kim dokja#the oldest dream#i wasnt planning on writing a sad post today but alas.#‘are orv fans allergic to being happy’ yes sorry#dont go into my replies like ‘you’re thinking too deep about this’ or whatever#i know i am!! i know its probably not that deep#i know that he probably did see himself having a happy ending probably#but when i think about his character#and when i think about his actions#i cant help but see a bit of that sort of undercurrent of ‘i don’t belong’#that sort of undercurrent of ‘i want to die’#his character feels relatable to me#take that statement as you will i guess#not that ive sacrificed my life for anyone#lol#but that passive sort of way he approaches the topic#all jokes and smiles and such??#and other people are like ‘uhm. no i think you need help.’ and he cant see it#thats so????#he needs therapy#*i* need therapy#sorry for traumadumping in main orv tag LOL#feel free to get mad at me in replies i understand#this could be a total mischaracterization of kdj#probably is tee bee atche but OH WELL. also i hit tag limit oops. 30 tags is the limit apparently
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princehenryuk & theagcd on instagram close friends stories (with & without instagram text) - sources: rwrb updates twitter, nick & taylor updates twitter, rwrbupdate instagram
#rwrb#rwrb movie#red white and royal blue#stills#alt text added#these were all posted while i was asleep so. probably already posted but whatever. i want to have them and i want people to post alt text#gonna go back and add a tag to all these#rwrb instagram
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