#<-trying to remember to use this tag more...

[that-one-girl2020]

Saja Boys x Rumi’s Sister! Reader Pt. 2

A/N: Okay, by popular demand, I decided to make this into a series so after this one, I’ll have at least four or five more parts to this series as it follows the movie events. I also tagged those that asked for part 2/asked to be tagged. Thank you guys for your support!

TW: Not much, just insecurity and a little bit of self deprecating thoughts really

Word Count: 2,097

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

SPOILERS FOR KPDH

“Great, (Y/n), you’re home!” Zoey cheered as soon as you came through the door, tackling you in a hug as you were trying to toe your shoes off.

You chuckled, managing to juggle the groceries so you could pat her back with one hand.

“(Y/n), where were you, we were waiting!” Mira grouched impatiently, her and Rumi joining you and Zoey in the entryway.

“Only for a little bit though, Mira, chill.”

You made an awkward face, “Uh, I was waiting for you guys to text me that you were done and you never—“

“Oh, (Y/n), you’ll never guess what we saw earlier!” Zoey interrupted you, taking the grocery bags from you to see what snacks you had gotten.

“Oh my gosh, you won’t,” Rumi agreed, looking at you with wide eyes.

“What?” You asked curiously, putting the groceries away as the other three separated out the snacks and junk food to take a mental list of what was there.

“Some demons,” Mira spat the word with a snarl, “decided to come after our fans by making a boy band.”

Oh that sounded too familiar to you. You froze. And then did your best to act natural. “Oh, whatttttt?” Okay stop, your voice is too high. You cleared your throat. “Really?”

None of the girls seemed to notice.

“Yeah, we’re gonna kill them tonight,” Rumi tells you. “So that means we gotta get battle ready. So, will youuuu…?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes, I’ll set out your battle outfits and make some dinner and bring it down to you guys,” You smiled indulgently at them.

“Yes! You’re the best (Y/n)!” Zoey cheered, pumping her arms in the air and throwing them around you. “And you’ll…?”

“Make you guys your pregame ramyeon? Yes, I’ll boil some water and bring it down with dinner so you can heat it while you eat.”

Rumi and Mira joined in the feral food cheering as the three made their way to the elevator.

“Yes!”

“Thank you, (Y/n), you’re the best!”

“Thank you, best sister ever in the entire universe!”

Sigh. Same routine as usual. They always took a few hours to get battle ready so you decided to go get their battle outfits down from the closet and make sure all the accessories and pieces were in place. And also set out some makeup and nail polishes that would suit their complexions and preferences while complimenting the black leather style.

After that, you started making dinner. Sometimes you felt more like an unappreciated housewife than the sister of an idol.

“Let’s go kill these guys.”

And, also like usual, you grabbed your backpack of first aid supplies and followed after them like a groupie.

To be honest, you really didn’t want to be doing this. They seemed nice back at their performance! They were just performing, singing their cute little soda pop song! And they were so nice to you too! Well… they were very flirty and that might have been because you were part of their target audience as a girl. But it was still very flattering!

Shaking your head, you remembered what they had said at the end of their performance, they were going on ‘Play Games With Us!’ right? You could probably watch it on your phone.

You struggled not to burst out laughing as the video streamed, they were all in baby high chairs with bibs with their names on them, in a hot sauce drinking competition! Baby was happily kicking his feet but everyone else looked like they were dying!

“(Y/n), come on!” A whisper-shout came from up ahead, they were holding the studio door open.

“Coming!” You shoved your phone in your pocket and jogged into the studio to join them. The four of you crouched in the sidelines of the studio, out of sight of the audience. And wow, it was even funnier to see in person.

“Once they come off the stage, we’ll jump down for the attack, and these boys’ll be…”

“Done, done, done,” the three snickered with gremlin smiles, sneaking away to get higher ground. Rumi turned to you as if she forgot you were there, “Oh, (Y/n), stay here out of sight or outside the studio, just in case. Okay?” She left.

“Yeah, okay…” It wasn’t like you couldn’t fight, you went through all the same training as Mira, Zoey, and Rumi. But the three often treated you like a helpless maiden when you went with them for demon hunts.

You turned your attention back to the stage, crouching in the shadows behind the backdrop of the set as one by one, the boys dropped out of the spicy challenge until it was just one of the hosts and Baby.

“It’s a dead heat between my handsome co-host and Baby Saja!” Baby was still sipping away at his bottle of hot sauce like it was just milk, content as can be. “Can our host catch up?”

Nope. He was red in the face and his eyes were crying. He gave up with a pop and a cry of, “So spicy! So spicy!”

The man collapsed forward. “No he can’t! Baby Saja is the winner!”

Baby pulled the empty bottle from his mouth with a pop, a nonchalant, almost bored look on his face, “Goo goo, ga ga.”

You had to slap a hand over your face to keep from laughing. ‘Oh my gosh! Spice KINGGGG! Iconic.’ In some way, that was hot in a way more than the spice itself. It was almost dorky in some way. It was… humanizing to see the so-called demon boys like this as they cheered for their maknae.

The segment was coming to an end and the host was starting to say the goodbyes when Jinu took the mic. You froze like a rabbit as he suddenly introduced Huntr/x as some surprise guests, a spotlight shining on the girls who peaked over the top of the set. You slapped a hand on your face, ‘girlssssss… how can you be so obvious…?’

It was really unfortunate when the leather of their outfits didn’t agree with the slide, making a slow, screeching descent as the crowd groaned. You and the boys had matching grimaces of second hand embarrassment on your faces…

And then they were trying to wrap it up and the Saja Boys were playing the bigger people by being respectful and humble, bowing to the girls, “It was truly an honor to share the stage with you.”

Seeing the positive reaction of the crowd, the girls tried to outdo them by bowing lower, “Oh no, the honor is ours.”

And then it turned into a bowing competition. You couldn’t help but widen your eyes at the boys, ‘These men were basically folded in half!!! Wow. Demon boys are really flexible…’ You slapped your face at the mental implications of that thought. And in the realization of the view you had of the boys from this angle. Wow…

Distracted by your mental embarrassment, you didn’t realize the curtains were closing and the boys were making their escape until a hand slapped over your mouth and arms were carrying you away.

Looking up, you saw that it was Romance, who gave you a sly smirk and a charming wink, “Hello there, sweetheart~” he cooed.

“Nice to see you again~” Jinu cooed as well, a mischievous grin.

‘WAIT! Did this mean they remembered you from earlier?! And was that Baby on Mystery’s back…?’

That kind of attention could go straight to a girl's head if she let it. Or her heart…

And now she was in some bath house. A men’s bathhouse to be specific. Absolutely done with your current situation, you couldn’t help but go limp in Romance’s arms, staring up at the ceiling of the bathhouse flatly. Why is this your life? Being kidnapped by hot demon boys?

“Awww, don’t worry pretty girl, we’ll give you back to your sister in a minute,” Jinu teased with a smirk as the boys took their positions for a dramatic encounter with Huntr/x. You couldn’t help but blush at the cute pet name. He called you pretttyyyyyyy…

And then the girls arrived.

Yadda yadda, followed them into the bathhouse, yadda yadda, simps for Abby’s abs, yadda yadda, stealing fans, clever evil snark, battle.

“Oh, don’t forget to protect your sister, too!” Jinu yelled and nodded at Romance, and then you were being thrown in the air towards a group of water demons.

‘Did this jerk really just throw you!?’

“Hey!” You twisted, landing on your feet and using the momentum to spin and launch yourself back at the boys, ducking and twisting easily between reaching demon limbs, “I am not. A. DAMSEL!”

Abs kinda shrieked in surprise, which was adorkable, and the boys took off while the girls with actual weapons started killing water demons. Jinu almost slipped on a puddle while making his dramatic exit which was also adorkable but now wasn’t the time for giggling at cute, evil boy antics.

Jinu was gremlin laughing cheerfully as you ran after them, your sister joining you in the chase and quickly overtaking you, slashing at Jinu. The two ended up detouring into a room in their fight and you kept going after the other four.

“I knew idol fans were crazy but I didn’t think it was this bad!” Abby called back to you with a smirk and you growled, your frustration giving you a burst of speed.

You leapt and ended up tackling Baby, causing Mystery to stop and come back with a protective snarl.

“I am not a psycho fan! I’m just trying to do my part!”

You twisted, having to let go of Baby as Mystery made a grab for you with his clawed hands. “And we’re just doing ours,” Romance was apparently joining the fight. It may have been a mistake going after the maknae of the group, it always drove the protective instincts of the rest of the group up the wall…

Leaping, twisting, kicking, punching, it was all you could do to protect yourself and try to keep them from running away until the other girls could catch up with the actual fire power.

“Do you own any shirts that actually fit or do you always shop two sizes too small?!” You couldn’t help but ask Abby as his abs flashed you before you kicked them.

“If it bothers you so much then stop looking, babe!” He smirks, twisting around Baby as the maknae swiped at you.

“Less flirting, more fighting,” the maknae drawled lazily. Your face flushed. From anger or being flustered, who knew. You knew…

“Not flirting!” You denied strongly, ducking under a high kick from Romance before jumping over a low swipe of the legs from Mystery.

“Awww, but I didn’t get a chance to flirt with her,” Romance whined. The four started moving faster, working more in synchrony as you struggled to keep up with all four of them at once.

You yelped when Abby and Mystery’s nails caught in the sleeves of your sweatshirt, the soft fabric tearing easily to reveal your arms. Panicked, you looked down and yeah. There they were. Your patterns. Your ugly, disgusting, demonic pattern.

When you were little, you used to use markers to color the space between them and make doodles on your skin out of the jagged lines until Aunt Celine caught you and berated you. She disciplined you so badly that you never even thought of doing it again.

And now they were on display. In front of four demons no less.

You hugged your arms, trying in vain to cover them, looking up at them. Their fight stances had loosened in surprise, their eyes darting across your arms to take in the darkening lines.

“Demon pattern…?”

You took a step back, terrified. They’ll tell Jinu and then they’ll tell Mira and Zoey and then the world and no one will ever accept you again. Mira and Zoey may accept Rumi as a fellow huntress but you? You who doesn’t matter? You who can only help with clothes and visuals? They’ll kill you in a second.

Having to pick between running and hiding or staying and keeping them from escaping?

You chose to run. Run back to the apartment by yourself to hide your skin.

And you didn’t notice how a foot took a step after you, a hand half raised to reach out to you, a lingering unreadable look as eyes followed you, a mouth partially opened to call after you.

Four demon boys left to question what just happened.

Outtake:

Huntr/x: “Can you believe it?! A demon boy band?!

You: “Yeah, it sounds like a good concept.”

Huntr/x: “… What…?”

You: “Yeah, hot demon guys coming for your soul? Fans are rabid for that kind of dark mystery. They’d sell their soul in an instant.”

Huntr/x: “…”

Tag List:

@brights-place @cultish-corner @enerofairy @mama-m1na @shynotded @shadowmoonlight0604 @omgsuperstarg @itmechaosartist @reni502 @chin-chii @akariis4snowball @gremlinartstudio

[vampmira]

open up what you got in your mind to me. [pt.2 – saja boys.]

they've never met someone like you — a mortal who almost knew them .. better than they knew themselves. for the boys, it's annoyingly intriguing. for the girls, it's comforting.

paring(s): huntrix & saja boys x demon expert!gn!reader

warning(s:) EVERYTHING IN HERE IS A PART TWO TO THIS !! some movie changes, probably effected lore that makes no sense for the sake of the narrative, a little angst at the beginning

request | tags: @blueberrysquire @akariis4snowball @j0ykill

a/n: this is part 2 !! i had sooo many ideas for huntrix that i had to make another part for the saja boys so that it wasn't so long . this part isn't as good but i liked it so ☆☆☆

that night huntrix defeated gwima was a blur. all you remember was the zombie mob of fans, half of the fight, and the use of your aura vision to raise the saja boys above the honmoon before it glimmered in gold. jinu, who gave his newly found soul for rumi, was practically reincarnated through her sword – standing in front of her post-concert, arms open for her to fall into with tears from the both of them. everyone else? well, they felt lost.

the saja boys weren't sure what to do anymore. jinu was overjoyed, of course, but the boys knew nothing more beyond gwima and their mission. they didn't care much about music, nor their fans – which huntrix still couldn't wrap their minds around – and it's not like they had secret human hobbies. they never had time for that. until now.

post-gwima, they stayed in an apartment near the huntrix penthouse, trying to figure out their new lives. for the most part, they spent most of their time under your watch – to make sure they didn't go cause chaos – but also .. under your study.

you were weird to them

they weren't used to someone other than them.. knowing them

their capabilities, their knowledge, their origins.

actually jinu found your extensive understanding of what he is to be kind of comforting

he noticed how you never really drooled over them

you'd stare, sure, but in the same way an art critic would stare at a painted blue canvas with a smeared red dot in the middle

he felt like that red dot – unexplained but you somehow understood

when he told you about his past, it was a lot for him – talking about his cruel choice

but you.. didn't judge him.

in fact, you wrote it down in your notebook immediately, the one you never let the boys get too close to

he accepted you into his life when he entertained your interest in his history

unlike him, however, the other boys were uninterested

at first anyway

thank jinu for getting them to talk to you btw

it took a little bit of convincing – telling them that you wanted to give them something more than just gwima

even though they didn't want it ...

REGARDLESS they hang out around the penthouse

because they're no longer saja boys (uninterested and unsupported by any demon staff anymore)

they really had nothing to do but mildly annoy your personal space

including being the center of your attention when the girls are out

mira gave you one rule, "living room and bathroom. only." and you've succeeded so far. abby and romance were talking by the large scale windows, mystery was playing some game with baby (and obviously winning), and jinu sat in the middle of the couch, watching whatever movie rumi put on for him. you sat beside him, sketching in your one and only personal researcher book. your pencil drew out what you felt like was the final line in mystery's hair ... before you huffed, erasing it, and trying again.

that was... until the littlest demon startled you.

"mystery, they're drawing you." bored of his game, baby peered over your shoulder, only passively curious and really wanting to mess with you. heads turned at your exposure to the room, especially jinu, who looked over your other shoulder at the sketch you did of him earlier.

"you're.. sketching us?" the direct ask made you a bit nervous, especially being under so many eyes. (kind of. mystery was more just.. generally facing your direction.) "'weakness.. chest?' are you taking notes on us?" you stood up, nearly defensive, turning around to face the couch trio.

"if it weren't for your old friends, i wouldn't have to write it all down again." the boys went quiet, remembering the origin of your knowledge and powers. "i'm just.. tired of keeping it all inside. i need to get it out somewhere."

romance, true to his name, leaned over your shoulder, putting you both in a proximity much closer than you've ever had to experience before.

"then why don't we do something.. a little more fun .. to help you get it all out?"

normally sentences like that from him sound way more suggestive than he means them to be

but this time he came up with an actual solution to release your closed up, ready-to-pop-out-of-your-skin knowledge

they gave you a one way trip to infodump station ! an interview !

they wanted to learn more about you anyways

their fellow demons down below were the ones to wipe out your ancestors

not them

and they make sure you know it too

but they can't help but feel .. a little, tiny bit bad that you're now just a living library

a time capsule, holding onto so much information that you're about to burst 24/7

they had never met a researcher honestly

you intrigued them as much as they did for you

how much did you really know ?? did you know anything or is all this antsy behavior a ploy to make it look like you knew everything when you really knew nothing ??

their disguises were perfectly created to make every little fan fall for their attractiveness the second they looked at the boys

but you never drooled at them or had your eyes pop out of your head

you just always... stared. processing. tracing mindfully.

they didn't know what you were really abut. but they were about to find out. and really test your persona.

romance sat relaced in a chair as you circled him, pencil taking note of everything you noticed. how his markings were sharp, not rounded like rivers, how his skin was cooled, not burning hot. all things you already knew, but you found small comfort in knowing not much changed. you took a deep breath around his hair, nose scrunching up. he smiled, taking your cheek in his hand.

"new cologne." his voice was smooth, gentle. traditionally alluring. "just for you. do you like it?" he turned up his flirtatiousness, pulling you in closely, testing the waters of your focus.. before you turned away to start writing, completely uneffected.

"so many generations and you guys still smell like flames.." you mumbled to yourself.

"would you rather we smell like bubblegum?" baby tried to sass you, but you were too focused on the sharpness of his teeth to care. you stepped towards him, eyes widened.

"can demons still tear apart brick with the force of their canines?" you asked, rather close to his face. for a moment, he almost felt like the flustered one.

"yes..? no? i-i don't know." he crossed his arms, childishly. "i don't go around biting bricks." you jot it down still as you move towards abby. he's deeply relaxed, leaning back on the couch, comfortable shirt riding up to expose his famously toned abs. your eyes trail off of your notebook and they think.. they've got you.

"like what you see?" he teases. "you can touch them, you know." a bold move that brings you closer, nails tracing his skin. they're almost disappointed that abby is the one who stole your attention.. before they realize you're attention isn't stolen at all. you're drawing his markings with careful detail.

"where did yours come from? rumi's started forming on her arm when she was a kid, but they haven't reached her stomach yet. they grow with time, right? how old would that make you then..?" you dissolve into mutters they can barely decipher. "oh!! mystery!" he almost jumps behind the couch when you race over to him, making jinu laugh from the sidelines of their attempts to flirt with you. "i've never seen a demon sparkle! that's new.. is that just you? or is there a whole subspecies of sparkling demons? or is it your human disguise..?" your questions nearly overwhelm him, enough to make him forget how he's supposed to flirt with you, but romance pulls you away, whispering in your ear.

"it's not just him." he smiles, hand on your shoulder. "you're sparkling, too, sweetheart." if anyone could fluster anyone, it'd be him, even if it takes two rounds. his thumb runs against your chin. "you look so cute in this lighting, like a rose."

"speaking of which, what's the flora like down there? are there any? do they eat demons or are they like.. regular flowers? we knew more of demons than of gwima's realm. did they smell? i bet they might have.. would it be nostalgic or torturing?"

the boys share a look, and sigh. you went off into high speed muttering again.

you really were everything you said

uninterested in their flirts and more in knowledge

that almost made them like you more..

in the following times after the interview, they greeted you a bit more casually – sometimes cheerfully, asking if you had any new drawings or trivia you wanted to get off your chest

how did you . tame them !? does the whole hard to get thing actually work !?

it confused the girls wildly

but to see them adjusting to being here through someone who actually understood them instead of lying around, empty and lost, was a pick-me-up in the mornings

one morning, after being delivered a coffee, handsigned by the boys, you felt something click in your head, a sensation you had never felt before, and reached to put it in your notebook immediately

"demons, when properly befriended, like to be understood. they brought me coffee. do demons like coffee??"

[imtaashu]

Invisible String🪡

Inspired by: “Invisible String” – Taylor Swift

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Setting: Post-Endgame, modern-day Brooklyn

Summary: You’ve always believed in fate, but Bucky never did—until he starts noticing all the invisible threads that led him straight to you.

Genre: Soft fluff, fate, slow burn warmth, soulmates-vibe

Word Count: ~1.3k

Author Notes✍️ : this one is like a warm cup of tea with your name on it. i wrote this with taylor’s lyrics echoing in my heart and bucky’s soul tangled in gold thread. ☁️🩷

───────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─────────

“Time, curious time / gave me no compasses, gave me no signs…”

But somehow, it led him here…

Bucky never used to believe in fate.

Not after Hydra. Not after the Winter Soldier. Not after everything that taught him the world was chaos and survival was coincidence.

But then he met you Or—maybe he didn’t meet you. Maybe he always knew you.

Maybe it was a thousand little things pulling him toward you across years and cities and silence.

Like an invisible string.

Tied from his heart to yours.

⸻

It starts with something stupid.

You hand him a book in the common room one afternoon. He flips it open and finds his own name underlined on page 17.

“What the hell?” he asks.

You laugh. “That’s from years ago. Before I even knew you. I used to highlight characters with names I liked.”

His name. His.

He doesn’t say anything, but later, he folds the page corner down like a secret.

⸻

Then it’s music.

You hum exactly the same melody he used to whistle as a kid. One day, he stops you mid-hum and stares.

“What?” you laugh.

“Where’d you learn that song?”

You shrug “I don’t know. My grandma used to sing it to me.”

His grandma did too.

⸻

“Do you believe in fate?” you ask him once, lying with your head in his lap on the fire escape, city lights flickering below.

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t think it’s kind of crazy? That out of every coffee shop in Brooklyn, I picked the one you were hiding in that day?”

“You were loud,” he mutters.

“You were grumpy.”

“You ordered your coffee wrong and then said ‘oops’ like it was cute.”

You grin. “You remembered.”

He looks down at you. Soft. Barely breathing.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I remember everything about you.”

⸻

There are photos now.

Polaroids tucked into his wallet. One in his book. Another under his pillow, where he swears you’ll never find it. (You do. You smile. You don’t say anything.)

He gets clingier the more time passes.

Not possessive. Just grateful.

Like he can’t believe the universe handed him something good and is just waiting to take it back.

⸻

One night, he’s quiet. Too quiet.

You trace circles on the metal of his arm. “What’s going on in that head?”

He shakes his head. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

He hesitates. Then finally, softly “I think I’ve loved you forever. I just didn’t know your name yet.”

You stop breathing. And then you kiss him.

Not like a first kiss.

Like a memory.

Like coming home.

⸻

You both start collecting little threads.

Literal ones.

You find a gold string in a bookstore binding and tie it around your wrist. He notices. Doesn’t say anything—but you wake up the next morning and there’s a matching string on his.

“No one’s gonna believe how soft you are,” you tease.

“Good,” he says. “I’m not soft for anyone else.”

⸻

Sometimes he stares at you like you’re not real.

Not in a weird way. In a stars are real and so are you kind

One day you catch him whispering something to himself after you walk away from the kitchen.

“What was that?” you ask.

He clears his throat. Shrugs “I just… I think maybe the string showed up because I finally stopped running from where it was trying to take me.”

You blink. “You mean… me?”

He nods. His voice is barely a whisper.

“You.”

───────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─────────

🏷️ tagging - @surebutwhy 🤟🏻

───────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─────────

wanna be tagged in all the clingy!bucky chaos and emotional destruction? tell me and i got you ⛓️‍💥♥️

[neilsbeloved]

company of four

summary: your world stops the moment clark tells you he’s finally introducing you to his friends, not because you want to stay hidden as his mysterious girlfriend, but because of your distasteful past encounters with his friends. (based on this request!)

pairing: clark kent x fem!popular!reader!

tags: fluff / mentions of past bullying / clark being whipped / hidden relationships / first meetings / uses y/n (like twice)

Clark, who was lying down on his bed with arm stretched behind his head, has been watching you try on a gazillion combinations of tops, pants, and earrings for the past hour.

When he had told you that his friends had been wanting to see this mysterious girlfriend he's been hinting on for weeks, you were quite hesitant to say the least.

Actually—you were very hesitant.

Not only were you one of the most popular students in Smallville High, but you didn't exactly have the cleanest track record when it comes to your relationship with people. Clark and his friends—Chloe and Pete—included.

Now, you're still on your fifth pair of earrings. Your ears all red and itchy already.

"You're meeting my friends, not some editor at a fashion magazine." Clark throws a football up in the air, catching it just in time with you turning around.

"Clark," you say sternly, shooting him a look. "Circle one or triangle?"

He straightens up, muttering a quiet apology before answering: "Circle. Chloe likes circles."

You nod, removing the dangling triangle earring on your left ear before replacing it with the circle one. You grab your hair brush from Clark's cabinet, running it through your hair as you walked to the other side of the room in a rush.

"For the bag—which one do you think Pete'd dig?"

"Are you their girlfriend or mine?" Clark jokes, hoping to see even a small smile on your face. He quiets down when you glare at him once more. "Sorry, the brown one."

You throw Clark the burgundy one, moving your regular items from your everyday bag to the brown one he chose.

Clark stands up from the bed, groaning softly as he stretches his back.

"Look, babe, they've been waiting to meet you for over a month now. I'm more than sure they'll be happy to meet you whether or not you're wearing Chloe's favorite color or you know Pete's favorite comic book." He rests his head on your shoulder, hugging you from the back as he rocks you side to side.

You sigh, glancing at him over your shoulder. His nose bumping with yours. "Clark, that's before they find out that your girlfriend's one of the people that were bullying them for years."

"Oh please, you never really wanted to be involved with those people. You were just…" Clark purses his lips, trying to think of the best word. "…misguided, okay? You're not anymore, so you could stop worrying about that and just relax, y'know?"

"I had Chloe be removed as the Torch editor for a whole school year," you start, "Pete got injured in his shin because my friends found it funny to trip him while playing basketball," you add again, Clark cringing at the memory.

You exhale defeatedly, pulling away from Clark to sit on the edge of the bed. Massaging your own temples to try and relieve some of the stress.

Clark keeps a determined look. Taking a seat beside you before he places an arm around your shoulder. The warmth of his body immediately making you melt into him.

"I know you've done things you aren't proud of, things you don't even want to remember… but you can't just avoid those you've wronged forever," Clark pulls you close, nuzzling his face in your hair. "Sooner or later you're gonna have to actually speak to those people and say sorry."

"And if they don't accept my apology, what then? Clark, I'm not gonna let you choose between me and your friends." You snap at him.

Clark looks at you with a surprised look, not expecting you to lose your temper. When you notice what just happened, your features soften, mumbling a continuous apology as you looked at your hands on your lap.

He shushes you, taking your hands in his as he intertwines both of your fingers together. "Who said I had to?"

"If there's one thing I know about my friends, it's that they're not the kind of people you think they are." Clark looks into your eyes with a tenderness you've grown to love about him. "They know how to forgive, and they know how to understand people."

A small smile comes onto your lips as he kisses your forehead, tightening his hold on your hands. "Now stop worrying about my friends and focus on getting ready. I don't think I can last thirty more minutes helping you choose the color lipstick you should wear."

His face shines when he hears a laugh come out of you, willingly letting you go as you stand up to resume getting ready in the corner—close by the window, so you had some natural light whenever you put on make-up—Clark had cleared out just for you.

You smirk at him, teasing and lighthearted, holding out the bullet lipstick you keep in your bag. "Don't worry, Clark, I don't have blue lipstick for you to choose anyway."

The jitters gnaw at you the faster you and Clark arrive at the Talon.

Clark kept his hand in yours, squeezing it every now and then as a sort of comfort. When you see the Talon's signage appear into view, you tense up indefinitely.

"We're here," he announces, parking on the curb faster than you expected. "Ready to meet them?"

You shake your head as an answer but Clark only laughs at you. He exits the car, running over to your side to help you get down from the truck. One of the chivalrous things Clark does that you've gotten used to.

The two of you stand outside the Talon's doors, a considerable amount of distance between the two of you.

Clark calls your name, stopping you right before you can come inside the cafe. "Are we coming in as a couple or as chemistry partners—babe, come closer," Clark pulls you to his side with a scoff.

"Clark." You glare at him, biting back the complaint that tries to surface. "Don't get pushy."

He ignores your warning, shamelessly slipping his hand into yours as he pushes open the doors, immediately getting overwhelmed by the dozens of people inside of the Talon.

Your eyes quickly latch onto two of Clark's friends sitting around a circle table, Chloe and Pete having their own respective beverage as they conversed—or argued—with each other comfortably.

Each step you took felt like a step towards suffocating yourself. Feeling the air inside the Talon barely enough for everyone inside of it.

You clench your jaw, trying your best to keep calm despite the percussions pounding inside of you. Clark kept a smile on his face, unaware of the internal dilemma you're having.

When you finally reach their table, Clark yells out their name. Both Chloe and Pete turning to your direction with a smile, only for it to drop the moment their eyes drop to your interlaced hands.

You gulp. Unable to speak.

Clark opens up with a normal hey, giving them both a side hug before gesturing towards you. The way your name slips off of his mouth making you cringe.

"This is…" Your name rolls off of his tongue in a way that makes you cringe uncharacteristically. "And she's my girlfriend."  Clark turns to you with a smile, wide enough to show everyone his sharp canines.

An uneasy silence settles over the four of you—this time, even Clark isn't safe from it.

This is the worst experience ever you think to yourself as you start brainstorming the quickest way to just fall on the floor unconscious.

By the time you've thought about five ways, you hear someone speak.

"Is this some silly prank? I'm sure I vividly remember you and your group of highschool hotshots doing everything you can to make all of our lives a living hell?" Chloe, being the ever-so upfront member of the trio, says in one breath.

Your jaw drops. Out of all of the things his friends can bring up to you, that one was something you didn't expect.

You try your best to speak up—to apologize for it, but Chloe beats you to it. Again.

"I'm just kidding," she laughs loudly, her eyes crinkling into crescent moons as all of you let out the breath you were all unknowingly holding. "It's nice to finally meet you, Y/N."

You quickly take her hand and shake it, a surprised huff leaving your lips as Pete shakes your hand as well.

Clark looks at the three of you with a proud smile, pulling out a chair for the both of you once the introductions ended.

Before the conversation between the four of you even started, you apologized first. Showing them the raw and genuine side that you had to yourself; apologizing for everything that you and your friends had done to them since grade school.

Clark squeezed your hand from underneath the table, gazing at you affectionately as you began engaging his friends in an all out conversation about something niche.

The moment a Talon staff placed two extra glasses of mocha cappuccinos, another member of Clark’s circle is introduced. This time, someone you’re partially close with already.

“You’re with Clark?” Lana’s voice raises, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

Clark cuts in, “Lana, this is Y/N, my girlfriend.”

The brunette looks to Chloe and Pete, both of them looking at you consolingly. You didn’t expect another round of awkward silence to happen but it does, and maybe you should’ve expected this one the moment Clark told you he’s taking you to the Talon.

After some time of you waiting for Lana to speak, she finally does. “It’s good to see Clark finally happy.”

“Oh,” you turn to Clark, slightly growing confused at the entire situation. “I, uhm—“

“She makes me very happy, Lana,” Clark says with a tone of finality, placing an arm on your shoulder. “Hopefully, I make her happy too.”

Lana smiles, nodding as she excuses herself. A loud huff coming from Chloe when she finally notices your earrings—though you know it was only to get rid of the thorny situation.

A compliment left her lips as she stared at it with fascination, the genuineness in her voice making you smile. Pete follows up with a compliment too, this time about your bag—you're practically glowing with happiness.

Clark throws you a look, catching your eye as that smug little smile on his face tells you that he's soaking up every compliment you got thanks to his brilliant choices.

As it turns out, meeting his friends wasn't as scary as you thought it'd be. Or maybe that's only because they aren't what you're used to.

Nevertheless, it made you feel very much at home; sipping coffee at the Talon, your boyfriend's hand in yours, enjoying everyone's company.

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! xoxo

[moonydanny]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged (last week but shhh) by @ambernotember 💜💜

I really, really wanted to write at least one little ficlet for the 911whatisyourpride event, so here's a little snippet of the one I'm cooking for this week.

Buck didn’t notice at first. Actually, it took him a while, but once he did, he couldn’t unnotice it. In fact, it’s all he'd been able to think about, to the point where Tommy had called him out for being unnaturally spacey while they were out at the farmer’s market.

But who could blame him, when what he’d noticed was the fact that Tommy kept rubbing his thumb on Buck’s ring finger whenever they held hands. 

Holding hands had become one of Buck’s favorite things while they were dating before the infamous breakup. Something about the simplicity and casualness of the gesture, how warm and big Tommy’s hands were, how natural it felt, made Buck giddy in a way he had never felt in any of his previous relationships—admittedly, one of many things that had made him giddy about dating Tommy. 

Buck had been racking his brain trying to remember if Tommy ever brushed his ring finger like this before or if it was a new development, but he couldn’t really recall. He was pretty sure he hadn’t noticed it quicker because Tommy did use to rub his thumb on Buck’s hand often—when they walked side by side, arms swinging with their hands clasped in between them, when they were out at a coffee shop or having dinner at a restaurant and their hands met on top of the table. It was another reason why Buck loved holding Tommy’s hand. Such a small gesture, Tommy’s thumb tracing soft patterns on the back of his own hand almost absentmindedly, like a reflex, but one that made Buck feel cherished, that always left him with a warm, soft feeling in his chest. 

Now, the caress seemed just as absentminded, but it wasn’t random patterns anymore. It was almost exclusively his left ring finger. Buck had noticed it a few days ago, as they were cuddling on Tommy’s infuriatingly comfortable couch after dinner, watching something on TV that you couldn’t pay him to remember. Buck had been snuggled right up against Tommy’s side, with Tommy’s arm over his shoulders. At some point, Buck had lifted his hand to lace his fingers with his boyfriend’s by his left shoulder, and he’d felt the familiar soft caress of Tommy’s thumb against his knuckles.

More precisely, one knuckle. 

So he started paying attention, thinking he had to be reading too much into it and was probably just a coincidence. But no, it wasn't.

np tags @qwordavoider @quintessenceofdust88 and @jcneseymour (mostly I just want you guys to see this 'cause look! I'm writing! 🥹😅)

[sophrosyncc]

— what's up bro ?

you call the chrysos heirs bro. how do they react to it?

warnings/tags : slight story spoilers (you'll only notice them if you squint your eyes), gender-neutral reader, crack, slight ooc behavior (for the comedic effect) author's note : apologies for suddenly disappearing out of nowhere. I have severely underestimated how busy I'd be 🥀🥀 a bit of silly stuff before the dreaded 3.4 arrives. might edit this later characters : aglaea, anaxa, castorice, phainon.

aglaea

in her many years of leading the flame-chase journey, the last thing she expected was to be called bro.

no. you aren't the first one to call her that. both children and teenagers in the recent age of amphoreus have approached her with that nickname. cipher and phainon are definitely at the scene of the crime as well.

if she dislikes you, she'll ignore you or politely tell you off. unless you're elder caenis which is an entirely different situation on it's own.

compared to the next person on this list, she doesn't mind it if you call her that around others. it'll be a bit awkward at first but she gets used to it. there are far worse names or titles that others have given her, and she's glad that yours comes from a place of no ill intent.

if you are associated with phainon and cipher to a good extent, expect her to ask you if you were dared to do that.

maybe she'll give you an amused smile or laugh a bit after you call her bro. aglaea enjoys the unpredictability you bring in her life filled with daily routines and responsibilities. it's a nice break from what she's usually used to.

the only time you shouldn't is if she's doing something important.

on the other hand, if you're her lover, she'll be a be more playful with you. she may or may not call you bro when you least expect it. what's even worse is that no one will ever believe you if you tell them. the demigod of romance calling you bro out of nowhere sounds more impossible than completing the flame-chase journey.

can you really blame her? it's funny to see you surprised. aglaea can and will be a tease.

if you try to catch her off guard, it won't work.

call her garmentmakers bro as well and she'll enjoy it.

"hm? I don't remember calling you by that nickname. perhaps you have mistaken the voice from one of my garmentmakers for me — some of them can be playful."

anaxa

first of all, why would you call him bro?

are you asking for a death sentence? an early entrance to the nether realm?

or to catch his attention?

we're talking about the man who doesn't want to be called anything but anaxagoras. the same one who corrects everyone to the point he's made it a personal rule — he has a voiceline ranting about his own name.

if the two of you are strangers, he won't hesitate to tell you off. if he dislikes you, he'll give you a glare too or straight up ignore you. he isn't going to waste his time on you when he has better things to attend to.

however, if you're friends or lovers with him, anaxa will stare at you for a few good seconds. the scholar's silently judging you. he doesn't know whether being called bro is better than being called anaxa. to put it simply, it's awkward. he still corrects you in the end.

continue calling him bro after the first time and he'll eventually get used to it.

no. he's not calling you bro. it'll only happen in your dreams.

the era nova will happen before anaxa calls you bro.

call him bro in the classroom or anywhere near his students and he'll give you the nastiest side eye you've ever received. anaxa does not need the troublemakers getting ideas from you. that includes the other chrysos heirs as well.

a huge emphasis on the other chrysos heirs. entertaining the thought of phainon, cipher or aglaea hearing about that gives him dread. give this man some peace please.

"first of all, that's anaxagoras to you and remember that well. secondly, i'm not your bro. refrain from referring to me with such nicknames next time."

castorice

she... doesn't know how to react.

speechless. quiet.

a bit flabbergasted, even.

no worries, you didn't offend her at all. castorice simply doesn't know how to reply.

you are most likely the first one who's ever called her that. congratulations!

not a lot of people approach the hand of death and call them bro casually. people have called her by many names or titles as well, similar to aglaea, and the last thing that comes to mind is a casual nickname. castorice is also aware that she isn't the liveliest person around.

whether you're a stranger or someone she dislikes, she'll give you an awkward nod or ignore you. if there's others around her when you call her bro, she'll think you're talking about someone else. anyone but her.

however, if you're a friend: despite the silly nickname, she likes it.

being called bro isn't something she's definitely used to, but it's a nice and pleasant surprise. it gives her a sense of normalcy and comfort. it'll take more time for her to get used to it compared to the others. call her that with other people in the area and she'll be a bit confused if you're talking about her or someone else.

castorice won't call you bro often, but sometimes she will.

not a lot will change if you're her lover. she'll still react the same for the most part, but I can imagine her surprising you with another silly nickname of her own. it has to be mutual.

please just don't call her that in front of aglaea or tribbie.

she will be a bit embarrassed.

"it's... alright. there's no need to apologize. I enjoy the nickname quite a bit actually. please— don't be scared to call me that again, or other similar words."

phainon

phainon takes it extremely well. too well.

in fact, he'll even reciprocate it.

no one is surprised at all.

it isn't the first time he's heard others call him like that or the first time he's called others bro. call him bro and he's calling you bro as well. equivalent exchange.

he has also called some of the other chrysos heirs bro as well. both of you are guilty of that.

the only time he won't do it is if he dislikes you a lot. if you've played the 3.3 story quest. depending on the situation and how much he dislikes you, he'll either firmly tell you to not do that next time, pretend you didn't call him that, or glare at you.

worry not, it takes a lot to have the deliverer hate you.

if you tell him to stop calling you bro, phainon will respect that. however, he'll find other silly nicknames to call you, ones that you don't mind.

if you're his friend or his lover... good luck. one way or another he'll turn it into a competition on accident or purposefully, and it'll only get more heated if you're just as competitive as he is. get ready to have bets over who can come up with the most absurd nicknames in one minute or something else.

just be careful to not drag anyone into it, lest the two of you want to replicate chaos that could rival penacony's disaster.

"bro? haha! I didn't expect that but I'm not against it either. I guess that means you're my bro now as well. what? don't look at me like that."

masterlist

[creature-wizard]

Here are some tips for appropriate behavior as an ally:

99% of the time, you should not talk about yourself (like mentioning things you've done or how something makes you feel) on somebody else's post. There are a few exceptions (like a personal anecdote that strengthens OP's point), but usually it's inappropriate.

You might see a post talking about a thing and feel compelled to talk about another thing it reminds you of or feels adjacent to. Sometimes people don't mind this, but it's also highly contextual and depends on the person you're responding to. Usually, it's considered inappropriate behavior.

When in doubt, add nothing and only use filing tags. Remember, you can always make your own post or vent in a private journal.

Learn to manage your own feelings and work through them in appropriate settings. Practice mindfulness, try journaling, talk to your friends, a therapist, your priest, whatever. People advocating for their rights have a lot to do and worry about, it's not reasonable to expect them to manage your feelings or listen to your confessions.

It takes time to learn how to talk about issues with all of the depth and nuance they deserve. Trying to be a teacher after a few weeks of research is a bad idea. If you're new and not well-read, focus on boosting other people's stuff.

Research stuff for yourself as much as you can. There are some people who will be happy to explain things for you, but lots of people are tired and nobody likes repeating the same 101 stuff forever. Searching DuckDuckGo for simple phrases like "systemic racism" or "systemic transphobia" are good places to start.

Go read Information Literacy Basics 101 while you're at it, to improve your research game.

Everybody advocating for their rights is tired and stressed out to some degree. Don't take it personally if they're short with you, and refrain from snapping back. Yes, even if you think they're wrong.

You should generally trust oppressed people when they talk about their own personal experiences, but you don't have to take literally everything they tell you at face value. Distinguishing between people talking about their own experiences and the narratives they use to explain and makes sense of those experiences is a crucial skill.

Posts generalizing about a privileged class are not inherently posts demonizing a privileged class. "All men want to rape" is demonization, "cis men are responsible for most rape" is not. Learn to distinguish between them and don't react to the latter as if it's the former. Bend like a reed in the wind and let it pass over you and through you etc.

Feeling uncomfortable is to be expected, and you have to get used to it. You will hear a lot of things that reframe a lot of things you took for granted in a very negative way. That said - you need to be able to distinguish between feeling uncomfortable and accumulating actual psychological damage. If you start feeling like you're irreparably broken or like you deserve to be punished for having privilege, that's unhealthy.

Acknowledging systemic oppression and the need to dismantle it doesn't mean you need to adopt an us vs. them mentality. In fact, that kind of mentality is unhealthy and harmful. Watch out for that because it can sneak up on you.

No matter what anyone tells you, performatively traumatizing yourself (such as by viewing gory pictures) is not activism. See Bellingcat's article How to Maintain Mental Hygiene as an Open Source Researcher.

You might be tempted to share gory photos because you think it'll get more attention and make people care more. However, sharing photos of murder victims is widely considered disrespectful and traumatizing people will not make them better activists.

This is what I've got right now; additions are welcome.

[steddieas-shegoes]

three things

for @switcheddieweek prompt 'spit' (a little) and 'non-verbal negotiation' (mostly this one tbh)

rated e | 5395 words | also on ao3 | cw: under-negotiated kink | tags: switch eddie, switch steve, friends with benefits, bisexual steve, bondage, banter, frottage, spit kink, anal fingering, anal sex, dirty talk, choking, not actually unrequited feelings, open ending but we can play clue together

⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕

Steve’s jittery and it’s making Eddie fucking jumpy. From the second he walked in the door, Steve’s been bustling around, moving things he doesn’t need to, taking sips of Eddie’s drink, knocking into things. Eddie’s ready to tie him to a chair and—

Well, that’s an idea.

Just as he considers acting on it, Steve groans.

“Do you think I’m too high strung?” He asks as he paces the floor anxiously.

“In this moment or in general?” Eddie has to tread carefully here. Whatever’s got Steve on edge like this needs to be taken seriously. One wrong word and Steve will shut down and it’ll be a long fucking night of trying to pull him back in.

“Like, always? Or most of the time.” Steve stops pacing, sets his gaze on Eddie where he’s sitting comfortably at the kitchen table. “Do you think I think too much about little things?”

Eddie’s brow furrows. Where the hell is this even coming from? Steve’s not usually high strung. He gets anxious sometimes, like when he knows they have to do their annual check in with the government doctors, but that’s not unreasonable. If he knows one of the kids is flying, he gets a bit nervous, but Eddie just keeps him distracted as best he can and it passes.

“Suzie mentioned that sometimes I get stuck on small problems and they ruin my day,” he continues. “Do you think that’s true?”

Suzie is going to school to be a therapist and likes to psychoanalyze her friends. It’s equal parts fascinating and annoying, especially when she talks to Steve. He takes everything she says seriously, even though she isn’t licensed yet and probably shouldn’t be giving her professional opinion to him anyway.

“I think that you do what every normal human does sometimes and catastrophize a little when you worry. It’s probably the trauma,” Eddie shrugs and stands, moving close to him, but leaving him space to get away if he needs to. He’s acting a bit like a cornered animal right now. The last thing Eddie needs to do is actually corner him. “If you think it’s harming you, maybe you could talk to a licensed therapist.”

“Suzie’s as good as licensed.” Steve folds his arms across his chest. “And she said I rely too much on you.”

“Did she?” Eddie scoffs. Steve doesn’t. Steve doesn’t rely on fucking anyone. He’d be better off if he did rely on someone more. “What made her come to that conclusion?”

“Apparently I talk about you too much. She thinks you’re my only friend.” Steve sighs. “Now that I say it out loud it does sound wrong. I have friends.”

“No shit.” Eddie grins, leans in until he can smell the cologne Steve always wears to work. “I’m just your best friend.”

“Other than Robin.”

“Other than Robin,” Eddie agrees. He straightens his back and nods his head back towards the chair he was sitting in before. “You wanna sit while I heat up leftovers?”

“Oh, not sure I can stay.” Steve suddenly won’t meet his eyes. “I uh, I have a date.”

Eddie ignores the way his heart clenches in his chest, painfully tightening. Steve’s still antsy, he can tell. He’s gonna go to his apartment and pace and worry until he has to pretend to be fine for his date. And the date won’t realize he’s faking it, that he’s pretending to be fine when he’s not. Eddie can’t let that happen.

“You should cancel.”

Steve gives him a look, one that says he knows what Eddie’s doing and he isn’t gonna fall for it. He has before, though. He probably will this time.

“She’s nice. I’m not gonna cancel just for us to fuck around. What about that guy you saw last month?” Steve snaps his fingers while he tries to remember the quite frankly unremarkable guy Eddie sucked off at a club. “Jeremy? Joey? James?”

“Isaac.”

“I was close!” Steve claps.

“Alphabetically, sure,” Eddie groans. “He was boring. Didn’t even fuck my face when I told him to. He’d probably run screaming if I showed him my plug.”

“I almost ran screaming when you showed me that thing,” Steve laughs. “I’m gonna head out. You find someone more interesting than Isaac.”

Eddie could beg. He’s done it before.

He could go along with it and wait for Steve to inevitably show back up at his place later when he didn’t get what he wanted from whoever this woman is. He’s done that before, too.

He could turn on the waterworks and guilt him into staying. That’s not something he’s tried before. Bound to work, though.

Before he can muster up the fake tears, Steve is walking around him and staring at the chair.

He looks back at Eddie and squints, then back at the chair.

Eddie waits because that’s all he can do. Steve’s either gonna leave and go on his date or he’s gonna stay and they’ll fall into their comforting pattern of being the only people who understand what the other needs.

Steve walks to the phone on the wall, grabs a piece of paper from his wallet, and angrily dials.

“Julie! Hey!” Eddie rolls his eyes, mouths Julie and makes kissy lips while Steve’s back is to him. “Sorry this is so last minute, but they need me to close tonight. Maybe next week?”

Eddie watches as Steve’s shoulders slowly relax. Julie’s probably letting him off the hook, thinking he’s such a hard worker for staying when asked. Maybe she thinks he’ll be up for a promotion, making the big bucks soon.

Eddie knows that Steve’s gonna fuck him up tonight.

He doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation, only focusing back in when the phone drops back on the hook and Steve laughs.

“You should get the ropes.”

It’s not a suggestion as much as a demand, and Eddie doesn’t hesitate to do it. Steve doesn’t like getting tied up, not even if Eddie’s the one doing it, but he loves tying intricate knots around Eddie’s wrists and ankles, sometimes his chest and neck if they have time. It helps ground him, keeps his mind from wandering into anxious territory.

It’s perfect for tonight.

Eddie keeps his ropes in his closet, hung up so they don’t get tangled together. He grabs all of them, in too much of a rush to make a decision about which ones to use.

Steve’s pulled the chair to the center of the room and he’s wringing his hands together like he needs something in them. Robin mentioned getting him a keychain that doubled as a silent clicker so it would keep his hands busy when he needed it, but Steve turned it down. Maybe Eddie can convince him later.

After.

Eddie sits, holds the ropes in his lap, and waits.

Steve circles him like a predator circles their prey before they attack. He’s hot and his heart is racing, and he hopes that he can be forgiven for being selfish enough to get Steve to stay.

He kneels in front of Eddie, grabs his face in his hands, and grins.

“You wanted this.”

It’s true. But he never said it explicitly. Steve just knows. It’s why they work so well.

“I wanted you.”

It’s a bit too honest for them, but Steve doesn’t stop to take Eddie’s words in. He’s up and grabbing the rope from his hands, shoving his shoulder back until he’s almost worried it’ll bruise. Eddie’s pale and Steve’s rough and as much as he likes the reminders of what they do, he’s going to visit Wayne this weekend and doesn’t wanna risk him seeing it.

“Hey. Easy,” Eddie says with just enough bite to make Steve pause. “No bruises.”

Steve nods, apologizes, but continues his work. Eddie lets him.

He closes his eyes and breathes.

There’s something peaceful about letting Steve tie him up, making him helpless in the middle of his own apartment. He knows he’s safe, they’re both safe. He doesn’t have to feel the emptiness inside that he feels when Steve’s not with him.

He feels full, even without the plug.

“Eddie. Look at me.”

Eddie does. His eyes feel heavy for a moment and then he sees how dark Steve’s eyes are, how blown his pupils have gotten. How long has Steve been working on him? Seconds? Minutes? Hours?

“Too tight?” Steve asks, for what must not be the first time. Eddie shakes his head. “Okay. I’m gonna grab the plug.”

Eddie’s not sure why, but he knows it’ll come to him eventually. He nods and waits. Steve’s only gone for a moment, familiar enough with where Eddie keeps everything to be quick.

He sets the lube and plug on the table, then turns to Eddie.

Eddie’s a bit in love with him, he has to admit. It’s pretty terrible to be in love with your best friend, especially when it’s a guy who has made it pretty clear he’s never gonna be ready for a relationship with any man, let alone Eddie.

But he drops everything to do this with him, and he comes here right after work even when he’s exhausted, even if it’s just for a few minutes, even though it’s two miles out of his way. He sleeps in Eddie’s bed when they get too high for him to get back to his place, curled up into his side or around his back. He uses Eddie’s soap in the shower and wears Eddie’s shirt when he forgets to bring the clothes he keeps here home to wash them. He leaves notes around the apartment for him to take his meds and to call Dustin and take out the trash. He does everything with love and it’s hard for Eddie to separate it sometimes.

Steve straddles his lap and waits.

It’s Eddie’s turn now. Focus.

“Gonna be good and listen to me?” Eddie asks him, voice rough.

Steve shivers in his lap. “Yeah. Tell me.”

Eddie uses all his strength to sit up a bit straighter, appear bigger. Steve loves when he’s tied up and bossing him around. He loves being told what to do while Eddie’s like this.

“You gonna stay dressed?” Eddie asks, not caring much either way. Might be hard to get the plug in, but they don’t have to do anything with it if Steve changed his mind.

“For now.”

“Then touch yourself.”

Eddie watches as Steve runs his hands down his chest, skims the edge of his shirt, slides them underneath. He wants him to strip it off, wants to see the way his nipples harden under his own touch, the way his chest hair darkens as sweat beads on his skin the more worked up he gets. He doesn’t make any noise when he pinches his own nipple, just lets out the breath he must’ve been holding for a while.

“Now the other one.”

Steve listens, stays quiet and obedient, just the way Eddie likes him.

“Feel good?” Eddie asks, but he already knows it does. Steve’s nipples are sensitive. He loves having Eddie’s teeth on them, tugging and sucking them into his mouth.

“Yeah, but I want more.”

“Greedy, but fine.” Eddie glances behind him, sees the bottle of lube. “You planning on using that or no?”

Steve follows his gaze, hands never leaving his chest. “The lube or the plug?”

“Either. Both.”

Steve shivers. “Maybe. Rather you do it later.”

Eddie’s not opposed. He likes watching Steve, but if he gets to have his hands on him later, have his plug in him, then he can wait.

“You gonna get yourself off like this then?” Eddie thinks he might be able to if they play their cards right. He’s never come just from playing with his nipples, but it doesn’t seem impossible. He’s riled up right now. On edge in every way. It might be time to try it out.

“Don’t think I can,” Steve admits, pouting his bottom lip out. It should look ridiculous, but it makes heat coil in Eddie’s stomach. He wants to bite it, suck it into his mouth and taste the spit pooling on his tongue. He wants to make him bleed so he can taste that too, find out if it’s as sweet as the rest of him. “Not without a hand on me.”

“I think you can.” Eddie laughs when Steve groans at him. “C’mon. I’ve seen you do harder things. Find a way.”

“Don’t have to be mean. I canceled a date for you,” Steve bites out, pinching his nipples again and scooting forward in Eddie’s lap. His dick is hard in his jeans, but he’s not gonna find what he needs with the way Eddie’s chest and stomach are pulled back with the ropes. Not unless he gets real close. “I’m not doing it all by myself.”

“You tied me up,” Eddie snorts. “I assumed that meant you were gonna do it yourself.”

Eddie’s own dick is straining in his jeans. It’s getting a bit uncomfortable, but he knows Steve will be pissed if he asks him to unbutton his pants. He’s supposed to sit here and take it, and Steve will sit there and do what he says. That’s how this works.

“Sit still then.” Eddie hasn’t moved, but he wants to now that Steve’s made the demand. He scoots even further up, so his dick is rubbing against Eddie’s stomach. It’d feel better if he took his pants off, but he’s stubborn. “I’m gonna get off like this.”

He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself as much as he’s trying to convince Eddie.

“I’ll wait.” Eddie smirks when Steve narrows his eyes at him. “Go ahead. I’ve got all night.”

His legs are a little numb from being tied and having Steve’s weight on them like this. The dining room chair isn’t exactly comfortable to begin with. He’s a little shocked it’s holding both their weight like this.

Steve ruts forward once, twice, groans before he drops his head to Eddie’s shoulder. He isn’t gonna get as much friction as he wants like this, but he can get the job done.

“That’s it. You just need something to rub your dick on, huh? Anything would work,” Eddie teases, voice low. “So desperate.”

He tries to sound annoyed or uninterested, but he knows he sounds a bit awed. Steve’s hips move faster as he talks, the room gets hotter, and the air gets thicker. Eddie gets impossibly harder in his jeans. If it’s possible to break a zipper, he may do it any minute.

Steve whimpers as he bites down on Eddie’s shoulder. He’s a bit sweaty from the day, and he knows his shirt can’t smell or taste good. Steve doesn’t seem bothered.

“Can’t believe you tied me up just to hump me like a dog,” Eddie grins around the words. “You know there’s better ways to do this.”

Steve pauses in his movements, but doesn’t sit up or move his face away from Eddie’s neck. It’s all Eddie needs to know that he can keep going like this.

“So stubborn. I should make you use the wall next time.” Steve whimpers and ruts forward. “You’d love it. I could sit here and watch. Probably hurt after a while, huh?”

Steve nods, but doesn’t say anything. Eddie smiles to himself.

“You like when it hurts though. That’s why you can’t stop what you’re doing now.”

“Mhm. Like it when you hurt me, though.”

Eddie bites his lip. God, he does love hurting Steve. He’s so good at being hurt. Takes it so good and then gives it right back to Eddie as if he isn’t covered in bruises and scars left by Eddie’s teeth and fingers.

“I like it too,” Eddie allows himself to say. It’s important to keep the boundaries there, but sometimes he can be vulnerable. If Steve starts it, he can follow. “You gonna let me touch you?”

“Maybe in a minute.”

“You’re only hurting yourself, baby.” Eddie rolls his shoulders, breath hitching at the way it tugs the ropes tighter around his wrists for a moment. Baby is allowed. Steve said it first months ago, one of the first times they did this, and it stuck. It’s fine, especially when it’s slightly mocking like this. “I could make it feel so good. You know I take care of you.”

Steve tenses, almost like he’s going to come, then groans and pulls his head back, looking at Eddie with wide eyes.

Eddie looks back at him, calculating, trying to get a read on what’s going on in his head.

He’s still unsure what truly caused his panic earlier, other than Suzie’s words. Something had to, though. He’s still sifting through it, not quite over the tension.

And then it hits him.

His date.

Steve hasn’t had a real date in months. He’s definitely done questionable things in bar bathrooms, but he hasn’t taken a girl out since…

Since they started this.

Eddie rushes to think back to what Suzie told him, thinks about things Steve probably left out of his explanation. How quick he was to cancel the date once he knew what was on offer.

Steve struggles with being the one to call the shots. Not just in bed, but always. He always asks others to choose what they do, and usually tries to leave another adult in charge as often as he can.

Other than life or death situations, Steve Harrington likes to follow someone else’s lead.

This thing they have, whatever it may be, it works. Eddie calls the shots a lot, but there’s still times when Steve’s in charge. Like now, when Eddie’s tied up, completely at his mercy. He may be encouraging Steve to do things, but he’s not the one making the decisions, not really.

It’s Steve’s safe place to call the shots. Eddie’s his safe space. Not this girl he was going to take to dinner or a movie or back to his place.

“Hey.” Eddie wants his hands free, but it’s selfish. His mind is reeling as he thinks of a way to do this without making Steve lose the control he has. “You’re gonna do something for me.”

It’s another demand, but he knows Steve will listen.

“What?” Steve asks, flushed and struggling not to find any more friction.

“Tell me three things you want me to do.”

Steve’s shaking and Eddie doesn’t know if it’s from being so close to the edge or from nerves or from being overwhelmed with all of it at once. He’s never looked so unsure when they’re doing this, not even the first time when they hadn’t figured out how to communicate yet.

“Like…now?”

“I want you to answer now, but it can be stuff you want me to do later.”

Everything shifts again; A whine marks the moment that Steve gives in.

“Can you-”

“No.” Eddie leans in, gets close enough that he can feel Steve’s breath against his own lips. “Don’t ask me. Tell me.”

Steve lets out a shaky breath, closes his eyes, and relaxes his shoulders. Eddie watches, waits patiently. His legs are starting to get tingly, almost painfully so. The feeling comes and goes as Steve shifts in his lap, moving weight from one leg to the other and then settling on both.

“Open me up.” Steve says so quietly Eddie almost asks him to repeat it. “I want four fingers.”

“Four? You sure?” Eddie’s never given him four. Steve’s never given himself four as far as he knows.

“Yeah. I can take it.”

“Okay. That’s one,” Eddie wants to kiss him, but he won’t. He can’t. Even if he weren’t tied up, he wouldn’t. “Another one.”

“I want you to fuck me.” Steve pauses like he’s going to say more. Eddie waits again, less patiently now that he knows what the next hour might entail. “In your bed.”

The silence that follows his request is louder than their breaths, louder than the thud, thud, thud of their hearts beating in their chests.

They don’t do that. They do a lot of shit, but they don’t do that. They fuck on the couch, the chair, against the wall, the shower, the floor. Never the bed. Not Eddie’s, not Steve’s.

It’s like kissing, in a way: silently forbidden.

Steve tenses when Eddie doesn’t respond. He starts to scoot back to get up, but Eddie lets out a noise close to a whine. He wants to move his hands, grip Steve’s hips so hard that there’s no way he doesn’t have bruises in the shape of his fingertips in the morning.

“What’s the third thing?” Eddie asks, making sure he knows he needs to stay right where he is.

Steve doesn’t say it. He’s pushing Eddie, seeing how far Eddie will push back. He could get up right now, go to Eddie’s bed, and they’ll forget all about the third thing. Eddie will let it be left in this room, never to be mentioned again.

“I’ll tell you later.”

He should insist on it now, but he won’t. Steve’s taking the reins now.

“Untie me.”

Mostly.

Steve works quickly, letting the ropes fall to the floor as Eddie slowly moves his limbs to get feeling back. He shivers when Steve’s fingers brush against his wrist, pulse speeding up under his careful touch.

“Anything hurt?” Steve asks, checking in the way Eddie showed him to the first time. Eddie taught him a lot of things. “Need anything?”

“No, baby, I’m good,” Eddie smiles, a real one, a soft one. Something almost too gentle for what they’re doing. “Let’s get in bed.”

He almost forgets to grab the lube and plug on the table behind him, but remembers when he watches Steve adjust himself in his pants and awkwardly half-waddle out of the room. He wants to use them when they’re done, after Eddie’s fucked him until he can’t talk.

Steve’s finally undressing, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor. It feels like they belong there, like they could find a home in Eddie’s laundry basket, and then in his closet. Like pieces of Steve could stay.

Steve looks good in his bed, on his back, parting his legs. His hand cups his balls, lifts them as if he’s showing off exactly where he wants Eddie to go. Eddie’s dick leaks at the thought of being inside him.

He could probably lick him open and shove inside him with no argument, even though it would be uncomfortable and probably a little too painful even for Steve’s taste. He likes feeling the pinch of too much, the drag of skin that should be wetter. Maybe next time.

Eddie’s not gonna be mean like that, but he is gonna be quick. He’s not patient enough to take his time the way Steve may have thought he would.

He spits on Steve’s dick as he settles between his legs.

“Keep touching yourself. Don’t come,” he orders, pouring lube onto his fingers. “If you come, we stop.”

Steve whimpers and nods, accepts the challenge for what it is. His hand moves slow, languid in finding the perfect level of pleasure to keep him on the edge but not sending him over.

Eddie starts with two fingers, a happy medium between the pain Steve likes and the pain Eddie wants to try someday. It’s still enough to have Steve tighten around him, letting out a noise he’s never made before.

Eddie pauses and raises a brow up at him. Steve relaxes. Eddie continues.

He’s not gentle, but he could be a lot rougher. He has one purpose: open Steve up. He doesn’t even try to find his prostate until he’s ready to add the fourth finger that Steve wanted so bad.

Steve’s barely moving his hand anymore, just squeezing the base of his cock like it’s the only thing keeping him on earth. He’s burning up inside and out, sweat building on his thighs, darkening the hairs just enough to be noticeable.

As soon as Eddie pushes the fourth finger into him, Steve goes still and silent. Any sign of the anxious mess of a person who was pacing his kitchen floor earlier is long gone.

Eddie only gives him a second before he moves, pulls his fingers out and pushes them back in. It’s tight, really tight.

“Gotta relax or I can’t fuck you like you wanted,” Eddie reminds him. He looks down at where he’s stretching Steve, watches his hole flutter around his fingers as he desperately tries to relax. “Bet I could get my whole hand in if I used more lube.”

Eddie’s actually not sure he could with how tight Steve is now with just four, but Steve pants, nods like he agrees. Maybe they can try that, too.

Now that the bed is an option, Eddie could try a lot of things. So could Steve. Eddie thinks feeling his entire hand inside him might be enough to send him over the edge, dick untouched.

Steve finally relaxes enough around him so he can move and there has to be a direct connection between his fingertips and his own dick with how it jumps when he stretches his fingers. He’s sweating now, too, using his free hand to brush the hair off his shoulder for a moment.

“Your hand’s so big,” Steve whines, lifting his legs back further with what little strength he has left. ”So much.”

Eddie agrees. He’s watching how much he’s stretching him out and thinks it should be impossible.

He feels lost right now, shocked into watching what he’s doing rather than doing what the logical next step is: getting his dick inside Steve. It’s mesmerizing.

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice is unsure. “Look at me.”

Eddie’s eyes snap up to his face, unblinking.

“You need me to tell you what I want?” Steve asks, letting his legs fall to the bed. The new angle shifts his fingers so they brush against Steve’s prostate. He bites back a moan, but so does Eddie. “Let me.”

Eddie nods. He can’t fucking think for himself right now. Some switch flipped when he saw the way Steve took him, and he’s not sure he can switch it back by himself.

“Touch yourself. Get yourself wet.”

He does it. How can he not when Steve is taking deep breaths to keep himself calm? How can he not when he’d do anything that Steve asks of him?

He misses Steve around his fingers, misses the heat of it, the warmth that ran from his hand to his chest. The direct link is gone, even if just for a moment.

Eddie spits on his hand, makes the glide of his hand easier. He knows not to come, but he knows he could. Steve’s eyes are on him, watching and assessing, figuring out what he’ll do next.

Steve isn’t the type to drag this on. He doesn’t like delaying his own pleasure. He’ll make Eddie come inside him the way they both want, he knows that.

But he still worries this will be the time he can’t hold back, that Steve will watch him until he comes and then the night will be done.

“Just the tip.” Steve’s words make Eddie whine. It’s not enough, but it might be too much. “Take it slow.”

Eddie leans down, lines himself up. The moment he’s inside Steve, he groans and his brain resets, focuses.

He waits for Steve to say he can give him more. He wants to give him more, he needs-

“More.” Steve is barely holding it together at this point, Eddie can tell from the way his voice shakes and his hand grips Eddie’s shoulder like his life depends on it. “Slow.”

Eddie goes slow. One inch further, one degree warmer.

Another inch and Steve’s grip is harder, bringing him back to earth.

He shares a look with Steve, sending the message that he’s good, he wants to take things from here. Steve will let him.

“You’re so good,” Eddie groans against his mouth as he kisses him, pushes in until he feels tight heat surrounding him completely. “Always so good for me.”

Steve tightens around him, legs wrapping around Eddie’s back and tugging him closer. It feels too much like something he can hold onto, something way more than what it’s supposed to be. He doesn’t comment on it. He can’t.

Steve tilts his head back, lids heavy as he begs Eddie for something only Eddie can give him.

He wraps a hand around Steve’s throat, squeezes once, and fucks into him hard.

Steve’s hand moves to Eddie’s wrist, his silent permission to keep going, understanding of what he has to do for this to keep going.

They’ve never properly talked about this. It’s stupid and Eddie knows he needs to be careful.

He is. He’s always careful with Steve.

He only does it twice more, but it’s enough to have Steve pushing back against him, asking for more. Eddie removes his hand, grazes it down his chest, grips at his chest hair and tugs.

Steve yelps and Eddie smirks. “Thought you liked when I was mean,” he says to be extra mean. “You beg me to be rough all the time.”

“Be rough. But slow.”

Eddie is too close to go slow, but he thinks Steve’s in the same boat. He can probably get away with a few minutes of being rough before he comes.

“Wanna taste you,” Steve says, and it sounds like it might be the third thing he wanted. Eddie’s not sure what he means, though. They don’t kiss so it can’t be that. “Please, let me taste you.”

Eddie holds his chin, considers his next move as he fucks into him once, twice, grinds into him until they’re both breathless. He digs his fingers in, keeps Steve’s jaw open.

He leans in close enough to feel Steve’s breath in his own mouth.

“You wanna taste me?” He whispers.

“Yes.”

Eddie licks Steve’s bottom lip, so quick he could almost convince himself it didn’t actually happen.

Then he spits. Right in Steve’s mouth, watches it pool on his tongue.

Steve swallows it without being told to, closes his eyes and groans. He looks blissed out, cheeks red and forehead shining with sweat. He’s never been more beautiful, never made Eddie want to devour him quite like this.

It’s hard to keep things slow after that, but god, he tries. He would do anything for Steve, but he’s only human. He can’t be this close for much longer.

Steve’s eyes open and he doesn’t have to say anything for Eddie to know he’s too close to keep going.

They come seconds apart, so close Eddie’s not even sure who got there first.

Eddie fucks into him until he physically can’t anymore, wincing when it’s too much for his softening dick. He always pushes too much.

Steve lets out a laugh as Eddie falls to the side, grunting when his cheek smacks against Steve’s arm. He sighs and rests his lips against the skin there, scared to bring attention to it, but not wanting to put space between them yet.

It’s quiet for a while, their breathing evening out slowly as they come down. He still doesn’t move, but his brain’s starting to catch up and he’s left wondering something. He probably shouldn’t ask.

“What’s the third thing you want me to do?” Eddie asks anyway.

Steve is still, and Eddie thinks he hears his breath hitch.

His other hand comes up, resting gently on Eddie’s head. It’s a heavy weight on him, making him hotter when he’s already overheated. A comfort when he’s been giving and taking so much.

“Love me.”

Eddie should be more surprised to hear it maybe. He doesn’t even have a reaction at first, just soaks in the words.

Loving Steve Harrington has been easy so far, even though it’s been in silence. Understanding who he is, what he likes, what makes him tick, all of it has been a gift.

Even when he overthinks things, even when he’s high strung.

But loving Steve Harrington loudly, in the way he needs, the way he craves, might be even easier.

So he lets his lips pucker, kisses Steve’s arm.

“Is that all?” He asks, looking up at Steve with a smile.

[florencebirdsong]

Fourth Wip Wednesday - Basement Bunny

Chapter: Bunny Dreams

Words: 721

Tags: dark fic, implied drugging, somno, conditioning, non-con, kidnapping,

Authors note: this one is a huge tease. I’m not sorry <3

First Chapter, Wip Wed 1, Wip Wed 2, Wip Wed 3, Wip Wed 4

One night you wake to the sound of locks clicking. It’s rare for her to enter when the lights have dimmed for sleep but it’s not the first time. You wait for the lights to turn on but they don’t. Was the noise in your dream and reflex woke you up?

The lights still don’t flicker on and the door doesn’t open so you close your eyes again. You try to picture your favourite show to try and encourage dreams that aren’t about the only person you see every day. The obsessive thoughts are starting to become too much.

Sleep starts to weigh you down when the door creaks open. The lights still aren’t on so you stay still. She slowly walks towards you. If it weren’t for the complete silence of your room you wouldn’t have heard her at all. She stops at then end of your bed for a long while. You try to keep your breathing even. Is she just checking in on you? If she is, does that mean the cameras can’t see in the near dark? No, it can’t be that. She would’ve started entering late at night a lot earlier and she hasn’t before. Has she?

Her footsteps travel to the side of the bed. You suddenly regret pushing it into the corner. You also regret the way you’re facing. If you peeked your eyes open you wouldn’t be able to see her.

She doesn’t stand and, presumably, stare like she did at the foot of the bed. Instead, you feel a dip in the mattress. Your heart pounds. You’ve fallen asleep a million times with her on the bed but you’ve never been on there first. You’ve also never already been asleep. Why hasn’t she woken you?

You expect her to call out pet or bunny or some command that will make this all make sense. She doesn’t. The cover lifts and her warmth reaches across the sheets towards you. You have to remember to keep breathing evenly.

She slots herself behind you in the position you’ve yet to allow. Her hand curls around your waist, her warm breath brushes the back of your neck and her leg slowly hooks around yours. Has she finally lost her patience?

You try not to be tense, to keep your breathing even, to slow your heart rate down. You have no idea how successful you are but she never says anything. The position is unfamiliar and one that used to frighten you.

Now you deny it mostly because it’s the one thing you’re allowed to deny. She never does anything more than cradle you and falling asleep in her arms is comforting in this chilly, lonely room.

Now that you’re in this position you find it isn’t so different from how you usually sleep against her. Her warmth still surrounds you and her scent is still as rich if not as strong.

You sink back towards sleep again. It’s hard not to and you don’t see a reason to resist. The lack of her waking you and moulding herself into a position you’d so vehemently denied before is barely a blip of concern now. She’s as soft and warm as ever. You should know there’s no need for concern.

You’re almost asleep when her hand moves. It slips under your shirt and you stop breathing. You slowly relax when it travels no further. It doesn’t go up or down. Its only movements are the slight circles it traces into your skin.

You had stopped lying to yourself a while ago about how much you enjoy her touch. It took longer for you to accept the want of her skin against yours. You have, reluctantly, but it’s so much nicer not having to face it in the light.

You wonder vaguely if she’s done this before. On those nights where your food tastes a little bit off and you sleep a little bit too deeply. You don’t understand why she would. Obviously there’s your reluctance to lay like this but at this point if she pushed you’d break. You sink fully back into sleep.

You don’t wake up again when the hand stops, or when it moves lower, or when it sneaks under the waistband of your pants. Your body doesn’t tell your brain anything is going on until her hand has already invaded your underwear.

[jackdaw-sprite]

Thank you for your perspective! And yeah, that's one of the things I'm not sure anyone's mentioned yet -- tags are for personal organization as well as for discoverability.

Something I've been confronted by again and again over the years, in fandom and out, is that people will use a system they're presented with in the way that's easiest and least annoying for them.

You can explain how a system should be used until you're blue in the face, but unless they themselves find the system easier and more intuitive to use in the way you want, you're never going to get them to stick with it:

People are people, first and foremost.

Everyone here reading this has a life, worries, things they want to do off of tumblr. They don't want to think about what tags to include or not when they're just trying to share what they made, and go about their day. Talk with friends, have dinner. Trying to get people to remember a specific rule about not using a tag when it makes intuitive sense to them that they should? When they just want to move on with their day, because tags are the least exciting part of posting things on Tumblr Dot Com?

I don't think we can expect people to take that time, especially when the people still doing it don't see any downside.

The reason I'm suggesting adding -- that's right, adding this tag, not replacing the old tag, is because it's intuitive, and it's simple. It works with human nature instead of against it.

The people who benefit most from it are also the people who will need to go to the effort -- typing dponly into the tags after danny phantom -- and in return, we'll get a space with no crossovers.

I can't argue anyone out of being angry. After years of this argument, I think most of us are. But I think this will give everyone breathing room.

This would be used in addition to the danny phantom tag, turning it into a true umbrella tag for everything related to Danny Phantom, while having a few major sub-tags for people to find exactly what they want.

---

After some more discussion with members of the fandom in the notes of my poll asking about a community and elsewhere, it seems like the better option for everyone might actually be a new tag, so I'm making a new poll here!

Some answers to questions I think people might have are below the readmore:

Q: Why are all of these only one word?

A: For the same reason the dpxdc tag is only one word! Tumblr's tagging implementation is Not Good. Tags with spaces don't play well with it, and especially don't play well with blocked tags. If someone wants to block non-crossover Danny Phantom content, we want to make it as painless as possible for them.

Q: What issues were raised around communities?

A: A few! To name some of them:

Limited interactions with posts: Communities only let you react with emoji and leave comments on posts reblogged into them. Not great, if we want to have long reblog chains riffing on one another

Original Posters aren't notified if someone else reblogs their post into a community, even if it's public. So if someone reblogged your post into the community for you, you wouldn't know about it -- or know to look for people interacting with it.

Communities have mods, and therefore would need trustworthy, engaged mods to make it work. Over a short time frame, we could probably manage it! But over a longer one, a community for an entire fandom would probably have moderator drama. That could lead to fracturing, or people leaving specifically because they don't like the mods, etc. A tag is a lot less active maintenance.

A few people also expressed a general dislike for the feature, even if they were willing to move to one. This seems like a much smaller change that will let those people stay away from a feature they don't like, while interacting with the content they do.

Q: What about less-common crossovers? Won't those get excluded from this tag?

A: They will. I'm asking about this poll first because I figured getting the community to make a decision about the other crossovers would be easier if we'd already decided on the non-crossovers.

The current idea is to move those to their own tag as well, so they can get dedicated attention from the crossover enthusiasts who love them. One of the people I talked to about this runs the niche-dp-crossovers blog, so it's on the radar. If you have concerns or suggestions about that, the notes on this post is as good a place as any to suggest them!

[darthannie]

By Way of Louisiana

Remmick x f!OC (mixed oc!!!!!)

word count: 4,019 tags & warnings: (JUST IN CASE) (JUST IN FUCKING CASE) DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Dark fic!!!, mention of a dead loved one, grief, discussion of pregnancy/infertility, mention of infidelity, dubcon due to extenuating circumstances, inappropriate use of a cemetery, blood, lots of blood, choking, spit, p in v sex, death, but also living eternally a/n (plz read if you can xoxo): I really (x3) wanted to practice writing in first person instead of second person so this is a product of that want. I don't know if this is going to have a second part. I kind of like it as a stand alone, but I do have a half written part 2 that's banter and smut written in Remmick's pov. This was VERY fun to write. I would LOVE to explore his character more. Also, my blog is a space is where I go to explore the parts of me I can't explore in real life. And, that includes a hot southern/irish vampire with very sharp teeth, glowing eyes, and razor like nails. Sorry! Sue me!! Send me to the rack!!! Don't care, argue with the wall. Morally corrupt vampire I need you apologies to the ancestors.

The rich, black fabric that hung on my body felt exceptionally heavy. I entered my quiet home and laid back against the wooden door. My shakey breath rang through the room as the tears welled up and up and up, before finally spilling over, blurring the reminance of my late husband that was strewn around. His favorite hat hung by the door along with the coat he wore when it got too cool at night. I dragged my feet to my bedroom. His handkerchief laid on his bedside table along with a book he never got to finish reading. 

This new life I had to undertake was not one I was ready for; one did not prepare for widowship as they prepared for motherhood. Me and Charlie wanted to start trying for a baby. We had no luck, but perhaps that was for the best. Maybe it was why he started becoming distant. I did not want to bring life into this world alone. I wanted to do it with Charlie. We had met years ago when he had just started practicing law at Louisiana’s top law film, making more money than my family had ever seen. Charlie gave me everything. The home I sat in, the food in the kitchen, the clothes on my body. It was all because of him. My closet was full of pieces he bought, insisting I looked the best in clothing he bought me. “Come on, what’s one more dress for my pretty girl?” He’d seal the sentiment with a kiss. Oh, how I’d miss his kisses. His lips felt like they were made for me. 

Sitting on his side of the bed felt wrong. I grabbed the hankerchief off the bedside and fiddled with it in my hands, snaking it between my fingers. I chuckled as I dried my tears with it, remembering a silly moment where he’d spilled a glass of milk on himself one morning because the glass was too slippery. I laughed again, remembering how we danced on our wedding night. Our limbs moved in dissonance with each other as we danced. There were moments, beautiful moments, where our movements finally matched. A humourless chuckle followed as I remembered his lips on my body later that night when we were finally alone.

My only wish was that he not treat me like glass, but he did. He always did. Whenever we had sex, the sole purpose was to have a child. Tender, yes, but boring all the same. I wanted him to bring me to the same conlusion I always brought myself to, but he thought it better to focus on brining an heir into the world. Part of me resented him for it. The rest of me wanted to peel my skin off in shame for ever questioning his treatment of me, especially when he had given me everything. 

I looked down at my black dress, grappling with the impulse to take it off and pretend like this was not happening. I didn’t like this lonely feeling. This emptiness was familiar, but it wasn’t welcome. I sat frozen, evaluating myself in the mirror that stood in the corner of the room. My face no longer felt hot, my eyes slightly red from their agitation. I sucked in a deep breath and watched as the air filled my body. I felt it fill up my belly, reach around my ribs, and rope it’s way up my back. My exhale helped me send enough signals from my brain to my muscles to start moving again. I walked out the room and paced down the stairs, wrapping my shall around me in the process.

There was no need for anything heavier in this weather. The warmth left over by the setting sun wrapped me up and guided me down the path, helping me haul my legs towards the cemetary where my husband lay. I stood at the closed gates. “Go home,” it said. “You saw him today, no need to torture yourself further,” it continued. But, I could not listen to the closed gates plea. I pushed passed the it, not bothering to close it behind me, and hedged forth. 

I quickly became aware of an oppressive weight that I was not meant bare. The heaft of death followed me everywhere. It would not leave me and time has proven that I could not escape it. I wondered when it would be my turn, when death would finally end up at my doorstep and take me away from this excuse of a life. I held my breath and released it when I could no longer restrict my lamentation. I moved quickly, gaining speed as I careened left and right. My cries and tears unfurled over unexpected raised stones and exposed roots. My shoulders began to lead me. My arms extented out towards his headstone before it was even in reach. I fell into it and wrapped my arms around it, letting gravity take my knees to the ground. 

The stone was cold to the touch, no longer warmed by the afternoon sun. My cries contined as the moon hung itself high. I laid my forehead against the headstone and kissed it. “Please come back to me. Please, for the love of God, come back to me.” No answer. I shut my eyes kissed the stone again. “You said you’d stay. You said you wouldn’t leave me,” I sucked in a deep breath and exhaled with a groan, “and you can’t. You just can’t! I can’t be alone again!” My cries got quieter and quieter until I silenced. The graveyard surrounding me was completely empty. The sky was so wide it seemed like it could swallow me whole. The stars above me didn’t twinkle or dance in the sky. They stood still, observing my grief. I let go of the stone and laid against it, resting my eyes. My shall hung off one shoulder and I didn’t bother to tug it back on. Eyes shut, I sniffed and did all I could think to do. 

I wiped my nose and began singing the words I had sang since I was a kid. 

“Will the circle be unbroken by and by, lord, by and by? Is a better home awaiting in the sky, lord, in the sky?

My eyes flew open wide when a sweet voice and a banjo that were not mine joined in. 

“There are loved ones in the glory Whose dear forms you often miss, When you close your earthly story Will you join them in their bliss?”

My eyes slid up his body and I realized I should be level with him if I wanted to seem any kind of intimidating. I marionetted myself upright before he finished singing. I was unarmed, a silly mistake. I could throw a punch but that was about it. When he finished the verse, he laid the banjo on the ground and held his hands in front of him. “I’m not here to hurt you. I just heard some hootin’ and hollerin’ and saw the cemetery gate was open. Decided to investigate.” I stepped behind the stone, expecting it to offer me protection. The man read the headstone and saw the dates etched into it. “I’m sorry for your loss. I’ve lost a lot of people too,” he relaxed his arms next to him. You avoided his question to proceed with your own interrogation, “What are you doing here? It’s late,” I stammered, “and the cemetery is closed.”

“I could ask you the same question.” He chuckled. I was unsettled by his levity, feeling so very dark as I stood behind my dead husband’s tomb. His face was sad when he spoke again, “Sometimes I feel a bit like a ghost myself.” I cocked my head to the side, “Why?” He ignored me. I changed the subject. “When did you learn to play.

He whistled, “Ooo, a while back. I met a man who played and taught myself.” 

“The man didn’t teach you?”

“He didn’t need to.”

“Hm.”

I got a better look of him in the moonlight. His dark eyes caught the light and made them shimmer in an unnatural way. Odd. His hair was short, but laid shaggy on his forehead. The ends at the nape of his neck started to curl upwards. I leaned forward on Charlie’s headstone and hid my face in shame. I thought the man was fine. Not only that, I thought he was damn fine. I felt like a whore, looking at another man before my husband was even cold in his grave. I lifted my head and he offered me a shy smile before he said more, hooking his thumbs on his suspenders and pulling them. “If its any consolation, based on my experience, I know that grief is firm and steady. But, it does get better… I just don’t know when.” I hummed in agreement this time and for the first time all day, I cracked a smile. “I’ll drink to that.” I kicked a rock at my feet, dusted myself, and returned the shaul to it’s rightful shoulder.

“Well, I guess I’ll be leavin’. Thanks for the talk, stranger.” 

“Remmick,” he said closing the gap between the two of us by a few feet, “pleased to make your aquaintance.” He held out his hand and I did the same. He grabbed my hand and kissed my knuckles, right over my wedding band. I pulled my hand away and sucked in air through my teeth like I had just burned myself on hot cast iron. “Um-”

“Oh, I’m sorry, darlin’”

“It’s fine. It’s just…”

“Look, I still wear mine. It’s okay.” He held up his hand and pointed at the gold band that laid on his finger. “I know she’s gone and I should move on, but it’s a nice reminder that, at one point, I wasn’t all that alone.” It wasn’t until his thumb wiped the tears on my face that I realized I was crying. “It feels nice knowing you’re wanted. Feels good to know you have someone to go home to.” All I could do was nod. 

“I met a man named Charles recently, but his friends called him Charlie.” He smiled at me, closing the gap further as I met his eyes. “Me and Charlie… we got to know each other. He told me he had a wife back home. That’s you, ain’t it? Yeah, he told me how much he loved her, how beautiful her voice was. Though, I have to say, that didn’t stop him from sampling all that joint had to offer.” I blinked water away and refocused my gaze on Remmick. “He what?”, it came out of me as a whisper. He kept going, “Even after being with a couple different women he still gushed about you. “She doesn’t sing like a songbird.” He said, “She sounds more like a wolf howling in the night.” And, lo and behold, guess who I find howlin’ in the night? Charlie’s wife.”

I could not digest what he was feeding me. There was a lack of acknowledgement on my part. I wanted to ignore everything Remmick said to me, but all I could think of were the reasons Charlie would sleep with other women. Can’t get pregnant, I thought. I can’t get pregnant. He didn’t want me because I couldn’t get pregnant. My skin burned hot at Remmick’s confirmation, “Such a shame you couldn’t have his child.” 

It broke me out of my trace. I leaned back. “Fuck you!” Remmick only chuckled and I found it in me to place both of my hands on his chest to push him away with all the force I could muster. “You come out here, start talkin’ nonsense about my husband. Damn liar, that’s what you are.” My mind was eddying with the information he fed me.I felt sick as I thought of being relegated to housewife with a husband who snuck around because I couldn’t give him a child. I didn’t want it to be true but what good would it be for a man I had just met to lie? Remmick closed the gap and pressed his body the other side of the tombstone again. He got so close to me our noses almost touched. His hand reached up to my face and wiped the tears off my cheeks again. He skated the back of his right hand against my face, stroking me like one would a frail bird. I swatted his hand away before he could speak, scoffing and making my legs move in the direction of the cemetery gates. “Unbelievable son of a bitch,” I muttered. 

Remmick yanked me back forcefully. It took me all of two seconds to notice that his eyes now more resembled red jewels. Then, I saw the drool dripping out the corner of his mouth. “I got to know Charlie very well. Briefly, but I knew him well all the same. His memories became mine. I know you like to sing in the mornings and read in the garden. I know he bought you that shawl you’re wearing at your favorite shop in town. I know that your family was dirt poor and was picked off one by one. Family of consumptives, picked off one by one, but that wasn’t all was it? Your ma and pa were keepin’ a real big secret, keeping you safe, right? No one had to know. But, that dramatic wave in your hair used to be a dead give away.” I gasped and felt something poke my arm.

Remmick’s nails had formed into claws half the size of my pinky. “We don’t have to bear our crosses alone. We could do it together.” He dragged an open hand down my arm until he reached my wrist. He pressed his thumb down on my arm to create a small cut. He lifted my arm, turned his head, and licked the blood that flowed from my wrist. Remmick moaned, “We don’t have to be alone,” as my blood touched the tip of his tongue.

His other clawed hand reached for my waist as he put my arm around his shoulder. I laced my fingers though his hair, half tugging him away. The fear coursing through my nervous system coiled itself with my desire. This was no man. He was something else, and that excited me as much as it disgusted me. I tested my luck by pulling his hair harder, making the distance between us grow. He bared sharp fangs at me and sucked air through his saliva covered teeth. 

I gawked at him, my lips parting open slightly. He regained his composure and strengthened the grip on my waist. His claws broke skin and left nasty cuts where they impailed. I winced, the pain sobering. This was not right. My husband laid directly under us, likely rolling in the casket I buried him in. I tried to imagine him fighting his way though six feet of earth to get to me. Instead, I saw Charlie staying late at the office with his secretary because he could not stand being with me. I saw Charlie getting drunk and kissing a younger woman. I saw him tossin’ some coin at a man and getting keys to a room for him and a woman liked more than me. I could not get a handle on my thoughts. I wanted to deny him. I wanted to run and escape. I heard my voice before I was able to move, “I don’t think you knew him at all. You don’t know what he wanted. You don’t know how he viewed me, and-”

His voice lacerated mine, “I know what you look like when you’re laying down.” I swallowed hard, closing my eyes. “I know that Charlie came home quietly on some occasions so he could watch how you touched yourself. You never caught him lookin’. Or, maybe you did and liked being watched.” I swallowed hard, my heart attempted to break through my ribcage. “I do know for a fact that he loved seeing that little pussy take him in deep…” He dragged the last word as he slowly pulled the shawl off my shoulder. “I know that you have dark desires you’d rather take to the grave because you told him. He never paid it any mind, assuming you’d grow out of it when you got pregnant. But, you never got pregnant. And, you never lost those needs, huh?”

He pressed me flush against him and my grip on his hair loosened. “I know how you like to be touched, licked, and used. I know more about you than you think.” The hand on my waist moved to my head, guiding me to look up at the sky as he licked from my collarbone allllllll the way up to my ear. “But, I still think I could know you more. We could get to know each other. Isn’t that what you want? To know and be known?” I gulped, “Not like that. Not by you.” 

Remmick sighed, “Let’s fix that then.” 

The second his teeth broke my skin, sweet grunts and hums of appreciation reached my ears. “I sure like the taste of you.” I choked as my blood spilled over my chest in gentle streams. He unlatched from my neck in order to indulge in my body. We made eye contact as his hands traveled down my sides, riping my dress in the process. The thin fabric gave easily to the pull of his sharp nails. He slid his hand under my dress and used his nails to lift the edge of my underwear. He wanted to feel the warmth of my skin against his and the a wild look in his eye told me he was holding back. He cautiously ran his tongue over the swell of my chest, tasting the blood mixed with the salt of my skin. I felt his fangs slowly sink through the skin that protected my heart. He let the blood trickle into his mouth. He drank piously, honoring my body as it slumped against him. I struggled to speak, “Remmick, please… St… stop. Fuck. Ple…Please…” 

He guided me onto the ground, onto my husband’s grave, and kneeled in between my legs. It was difficult to feel much fear when Remmick’s movements mimicked care. My eyes shut too long for his liking, prompting him to tap lightly on my cheek. He cooed “Oh, no, no, no, baby, we’re not gonna stop. You don’t want me to stop. And, right now, I need you awake. I need you to remember this.” He pulled me in for a kiss with a bloodied hand. I wanted to fight him. “Find a way out”, I thought. “This is wrong,” I told myself. It was not enough to convince me. I shut my eyes tight and didn’t feel Remmick against my lips. I felt Charlie, or at least the feeling of when I was with Charlie. It felt like Remmick’s lips were made just for me. He nipped at my bottom lip when he pulled away. The taste of copper was strong on my tongue. I licked the new wound on my lip and reached for Remmick’s suspenders. Sloppy, but determined, I moved the straps off his shoulders and fiddled with his belt buckle. I pulled his pants down and shimmied my dress up, laying back. I needed him to indulge in all my urges. I needed him to take me the way I’ve always wanted to be taken, and I think he could tell. 

Remmick’s body alined with mine as I led him into me. I felt everything. I gripped onto his shirt and he pulled out slowly and entered me again. “I have been waiting for someone like you for a while.” I reveled in the way he stretched me. It was difficult to keep my moans in. He was bigger than Charlie was, and I’d only ever been with Charlie. My sounds were as involuntary as my arms were when they wrapped around Remmick’s shoulders. “Open your mouth.” I did as I was told and dropped my jaw. Remmick let his saliva drip into my mouth, savoring the taste of it mixed with my blood. My head leaned back as his hand ran across my neck and down inbetween my clothed breasts.

He grunted as he handled my body and our movements ended with me on top of him. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I don’t expect you to ride me. Just let me do all the work.” My arms settled on the sides of his body as I laid against him. He cradled me against his chest as I grabbed the sides of his shirt. The absense of his heartbeat registered when I felt mine slow. The arms wrapped around me tightened. He bucked his hips up repeatedly. Over and over again, he hit the right spot inside of me. I was a mumbling mess. “Remmick, I- Plea- Fuck!” The sentence was never a fully formed thought, just an acknowledgment of him and what he was doing to me. He put his forehead against mine as he barrled up into me. He pressed his lips against mine as he consecrated my body. His cock hit every right spot, making me gasp and whine each time he sunk inside me. 

“Look at me,” he begged. His eyes were still red, but softer. No soul in them, but a tenderness still lived there. “We will be beautiful together. I swear it,” his hips moved quicker as his forehead pressed to mine, “We’ll be unstoppable, darlin’, you and I. Okay? You and I. Forever.” My whines continued and I could not quell them. “Forever?” It came out like a plea. I wanted him to promise that forever. I was tired of the temporary nature of every person in my life. For once, I wanted the promise of forever. Remmick grined at me and I smiled back. He was giving me the chance to never be alone. I would always have someone in my corner. I’d finally escape the life I lead, and for that, I would do anything. 

I had heard stories and suspersitions about creatures like him. I should be terrified. I should want to fight back, get away from his grasp and make it til sunrise. I ignored the more sane thoughts by kissing him again. My moans and his grunts formed a symphony that bouncing off nearby headstones, filling out the night sky. My hips tried to meet him half way, but his pace was so solid, and I was so weak, there was no point in me even trying. I began feeling the pressure build up in me. “We’ll never be alone again,” his voice was heavy and sincere. My stuttered moans came to a stop as my orgasm ravanged my body. I grabbed Remmick’s sides as he helped me continue to ride out my orgasm.

His moans and grunts became frantic until he slowed and kissed my lips. He shuttered as his cock twitched and he emptied inside of me. After a moment, his hips moved again, slowly, as he enjoyed the gentleness of my whimpers and the sensitivity of our bodies together. Once our movements and convulsions stopped, he pulled out. We laid still for a while, I was too weak to do much else. He caressed my body and smoothed his hand over my head. He sat up with me still in his arms.

“It won’t hurt too bad. I don’t bite too hard,” he vowed. I nodded. His divine intervention may save me yet. “Now. Please. I’m tired and I-” I gasped as I felt his teeth bite down harder than before. So much for not biting hard. He was relentless. I heard the slurping and drinking as I felt the blood drain from my body. The hands that gripped onto him went limp and my arms fell to my side. I felt cold and empty.

And then, I felt nothing at all.

[bees-library3]

Stay

Summary: After a routine hostage extraction goes wrong, you are shot while covering for Bucky, and the consequences are devastating.

Warnings/Tags: violence, gunshot wound, blood loss, trauma, HEAVY angst, canon level of violence, there is no happy ending, death, established relationship, female reader (she/her), no use of y/n

Word count: 1.5k words

A/N: I deeply apologize for the heartache that I'm about to put y'all through. If you follow me on the account that I have for The Walking Dead (@twd-bee3) and this looks familiar, it's because it was originally posted as a Daryl Dixon piece, and I just rewrote it to fit Bucky. I've been doing that lately so that I have things to post while I write new Marvel-themed works. Anyway, sorry for the fact that there's no happy ending. Love y'all <3.

The sound of gunfire splintered the air, and everything blurred around the two of you. This was supposed to be a simple hostage rescue, but you had run into complications. It was only you and Bucky, so things were getting dark fast. You guys had almost reached a secure room when there was another loud crack, and with you being in front of Bucky, you were hit by the stray.

You felt a sharp pain in your right side and cried out. Looking down, you saw the crimson blooming across your tank top and froze. “Oh shit.”

Hearing your pained gasp, Bucky spun you around so that he could look you over. He glanced down and saw the blood soaking your shirt. A cold sense of dread washed over him, and his eyes went wide.

“Fuck. No, no, no.”

“I don't know what to do, James.”

You were taking labored breaths, and you were already starting to stumble. The shock was setting in fast, and Bucky was even more desperate to get you to safety. The last of the men was bound to find you two if you stayed where you were. Acting on pure instinct, he lifted you into his arms and started running again. He was careful not to drop you and clutched your body close to his chest.

“Stay with me, baby. You're okay. We're almost there.”

His words were rushed, and his voice was strained. It felt like it took hours, but you finally reached the target room, and he made sure that the perimeter was clear of threats. Bucky laid you on a couch and frantically tore your tank top to get a clearer view of the gunshot. It was deep. Really fucking deep. There was no exit wound, but he tried to maintain some semblance of hope.

The blood was pouring from your abdomen, and he felt sick to his stomach at the sight of it. This was his girl, and she was bleeding out in a foreign room. Bucky used his hands to apply firm pressure, but the bleeding was relentless. Tears streamed down his face as he tried desperately to keep you with him.

“I got you, sweetheart. Just- just stay awake for me. You can do that, right?”

“I'm really trying, but I'm tired. I'm so fucking tired, Bucky.”

“Don't say that. You're okay. I've got you.”

Bucky kept his palms pressed against your stomach and watched as the blood seeped past his fingers like water. He needed to stop the bleeding before he could even think about attempting to stitch you up. Knowing that he needed to do more, he took off his shirt and applied more force against the wound.

You were only growing paler, and your eyes kept fluttering shut. You were trying to be strong and keep them open, but it was increasingly becoming more difficult. The sight of his baby going out on him made his chest feel heavy. He couldn't give up, though.

“Hey, sweetheart. I need you to stay with me. Please. Talk or something.”

Forcing your eyes open again, you nodded and let out a shaky exhale. “Okay. Can you tell me something good?”

“Something good?” It took him a moment, but he was able to think of something, and he smiled weakly. “Remember that trip we're supposed to take?”

“Yeah. You're gonna take me to the beach and we're gonna put our feet-” your words were cut off with a sharp gasp, but you pushed through and kept speaking softly. “Our feet in the water. Sam's coming with us.”

Bucky's heart ached hearing how hard it was for you to speak, but he was proud of you for trying. You were making an effort to stay with him - that was all that he could ask for.

“Yeah, baby. We're all going to the beach. You aren't getting in the water, though. You never learned to swim.”

His words were teasing, but his tone was forced. He was grasping at straws to keep you awake. Bucky looked back down at the wound to see that the bleeding hadn't stopped. Your breath kept hitching, and the pit in his stomach grew. The shirt was soaked in your blood, and his forearms were caked in it - there was no fixing this. He didn't want to stop, but it was clear that his efforts were in vain.

Making eye contact with his girl again, exhaustion was written all over your face. The most that Bucky could do now was make you comfortable. Taking a shaky breath, he removed his hands from the fabric and gently stroked your cheek. The tears continued to flow.

Seeing your usually stoic boyfriend cry and the heartbreak in his gaze, you reached up to gently swipe some tears from his face. Your movements were weak, but it was obvious that you were doing your best to comfort him. You gave him a small smile and spoke again, your voice strained.

“Shhh, it's okay, my love.”

“No, don't try to comfort me. Not when you're dying in my fucking arms.”

His voice was rough and his tone was harsh, but it was obvious that he was devastated. Bucky couldn't stop crying, and his chest felt tight. Too tight. He knew that he needed to be strong for you, but he struggled to pull it together. He couldn't even speak through the sobs, so he resorted to gently stroking your cheek. Needing to be closer to you, he sat on the couch beside you and pulled you into his lap. He had never felt pain like this, and he could feel something breaking deep inside of him. This was a man who had lost so much, yet nothing compared to the way that his heart was breaking.

The sight of Bucky breaking down almost hurt more than the gunshot itself. His holding you was a small comfort, but you were still quickly fading. Your breathing continued to slow, and your eyes kept closing. You forced them back open and attempted to keep talking. Wiping his cheek again, you let your hand rest on the side of his face.

“I love you so fucking much, you know that right? Loving you is the only thing that I've gotten right.”

That only served to make him sob harder, and Bucky felt like a part of him was dying with you. He took ragged breaths and spoke through the tears. “I love you, sweetheart. More than anything. I'm so sorry that I'm not able to fix this.”

“You can't fix everything, James. This- this was bound to happen. I'm just glad that you're here with me.”

“Are you in any pain, baby?”

You felt a bit cold, but you couldn't feel the wound anymore. That only meant one thing - you were almost there. You shook your head and gently stroked his unshaven jaw. It was harder for you to speak, and your answers had been reduced to just a few words at a time. “No pain.”

Your answer confirmed what he already knew: he was losing his baby. By some miracle, Bucky was able to compose himself, and his tears slowed. He managed to keep the tremor in his voice to a minimum. He didn't want you worrying about him in your final moments.

“That's good. I don't want you to hurt. You want me to keep talking?”

Your eyelids flittered again, and you gave him a small nod. You were too drained to speak at this point, and your breathing was almost imperceptible. Your pupils were dilated, and it was hard for you to concentrate. You were listening to him, though.

“Remember when we came back from dinner the other night and Alpine had scratched up the side of our couch? She was purring and everything. Thought she'd done somethin' good. You nearly pissed your pants laughing so hard, and that only encouraged her more.”

Your lips curved in a small smile, but your gaze had started to lose focus. It was only a matter of minutes now, and the idea of that made Bucky feel hollow. He kept talking and absentmindedly stroked your cheek, though.

“Oh, remember the time when she brought that injured little bird into the house and you were hysterical? You thought that I was so mean for laughing. I felt like a total asshole, but you're cute when you get like that. You've got the biggest heart.”

Bucky kept rambling until he felt your chest still, and he glanced down to see that your lips were parted slightly. The eyes that he always got lost in were still open, but they lacked their usual light. You were gone.

“I love you, sweet girl.”

Openly sobbing now, Bucky whispered softly and used his fingertips to gently close your eyes. He was at a complete loss for where to go from here. As he contemplated how to get you back home, he leaned his face down and gently kissed your lips. They were already slightly cooler than usual, and their pretty pink color had faded.

The two of you could probably get away with staying in this room for a few hours. It was late at night, and the space was secure enough. Besides, Bucky wasn't overly concerned about what would happen to him if he were found by those men. You were no longer here to fuss over his safety. The reminder made him sob harder, and his whole body was wracked with the force of it. He slowly rocked your limp form like a child and whispered unkept promises to you throughout the night.

[i-nssomniia]

Can we get high school au with Joker🥲🙏🏼 (I love ur high school au fics smm)

Just a physical education lesson?

Pairing: Joker/Hajun x reader

Tags: college au, secretly in love!Joker, panicking!Reader, a hint for the future relationships

Note: of course, darling! I'm glad you like it! i love<< (do you even remember how the author presents the Joker to us? Always awkward and inferior to girls! I think if I met him in real life, I would really be a little scared of its size, but then... hehehehe, it’s size hehe)

@shintaru @wthphe1n @dzvelinaskebiyars

college au part1 with Wooin college au part2 with Owen college au part3 with Hyuk college au part4 with Vinny

"Oh.."

You hold your breath, lifting your head to look at him. He's so tall that you have to tilt your head up a lot to see his face.

"Physical education teacher paired us up"

You nod briefly at his words, your breathing is a little unstable. He's so scary.. Your classmate Hajun or Joker, as everyone here calls him. Why? you don't know, and you definitely don't want to know the answer, because you're almost 100% sure that it has something to do with something violent.

You fidget with the hem of your t-shirt awkwardly, panicking inside. Hajun always intimidated you not only with his appearance, he's taller and wider than you, but also with his gaze! Sometimes you feel like you've crossed his path like a black cat on a bad omen, and he's silently planning your murder.

"Are you feeling unwell?", - his voice sounds so harsh as his body leans slightly towards you, causing you to take a step back reflexively, waving your hands in front of you as you respond too hastily.

"No, no, I'm fine" - nonsense, you're not fine. You feel like when you will do exercises together, he's just going to break a couple of your bones with his brute force. This guy is a boxer in a college boxing club! - "Let's just get it done quickly and be done with it"

you awkwardly walk past, trying not to accidentally touch him, as you make your way to the sports mats to start your exercises. and you're ready to believe in God right now, and pray on your knees like a nun, just to stay intact. and why is it that your friend decided to get sick and not come today? because because you couldn't choose a partner at the beginning of class, you're forced to be near him.

you take a short breath, trying to calm your heart rate, "you're first" - you look back at him over your shoulder, noting the frown on his face. maybe you should have actually said you were feeling sick? you feel like your body temperature has risen.

Hajun walks past you, sitting down on the mat, bending his knees. you sigh, sitting down in front of him, reaching out with shaky hands to hold him in place.

"Closer, otherwise you won't be able to hold on", - he pulls your hand towards him, and you reflexively move your body forward, securing his knees with your hands and his heels with your feet, - "Hold on tight"

And you instinctively apply more pressure as he checks the hold and begins the exercise by starting the timer, folding his arms behind his head and lifting his torso. You try not to look at him, mentally counting the number of his bends until he stops. your heart beats faster when you look up at him. he's so close.

"How much?", - he asks you, his voice softer than usual. Up close, his features seem softer. You've never seen Hajun from this angle, as you usually look up at him.

"..ah, 61" - you correct yourself, looking away from him. He doesn't seem as threatening as usual. And damn it, 61 times in less than a full minute? And he hasn't even broken a sweat.

he doesn't say anything, just gets up from his seat, so easily escaping your grip, even though you're pressing with full force. how strong is he? you switch positions with him, putting your legs in your knees, lying back on the mat, and closing your eyes. the fear of him crushing your legs with his hands settles in your head, sounding like a terrifying siren.

but instead, you feel a gentle touch, like touching crystal, that takes your breath away. again. not out of fear.

"Start", - you sigh briefly as you begin to lift your body. And damn it, the seconds haven't even reached the middle of the minute, but your breath is starting to fail, and sweat is dripping down your temples. And every forward lean feels so awkward.

and when the minute is up, the gym teacher comes up to you to write down your scores. you're definitely screwed, you know you did a bad job, but your eyes widen when you hear Hajun's answer. he added a few numbers to give you a good grade for the sports standard? and the image of this intimidating guy in front of you, kneeling with those soft features, gentle touches, and almost pink cheeks, crumbles. wait, pink cheeks, what? Are you sure that's what you're seeing?

and it seems that the rest of the lesson consists only of awkward moments and Hajun's touches on you. and you're sure that he's embarrassed every time you're so close. because now you look at him more often, even though a while ago you were afraid to breathe around him!

and even if the rest of the lesson passes in silence between you, you can feel his gentle touches on your back as he helps you pull yourself up on the lower bar, and you can hear him exaggerating your results. If the first or even the second time you could say that Hajun was just losing count, then no, he was doing it on purpose.

your mind is racing with a million thoughts as you change clothes and walk out of the locker room after class.

"Hey", - a rough voice from the side makes you stop and look up again, - "this is for you. You did a good job"

Hajun hands you a cold bottle of water and takes large steps towards the exit, leaving you behind in a daze. Did he run to the vending machines to get you some cold water?

you look in the direction he was heading again, but he's nowhere to be seen. and the only thing you can hear is your own heart beating in your ears. this damn bottle of water causes goosebumps more than a long-awaited birthday present.

and Hajun, hurrying towards the bathroom to wash his face, his cheeks burning so hot. and the silent hope that you didn't see him nervous around you, blushing every time he touched you.

and one day he will come to you again, under some stupid pretext to help him with the material that he supposedly did not understand in class, so that he can be with you for at least five minutes close to you. because he can no longer just look at you from afar and blush like a stupid schoolboy in front of his first love (oh, no, he is exactly like that, completely whipped up just for you).

just give him time, okay? one day he'll give in to all of Wooin’s teasing and ask you on a first date to an amusement park. he knows you love it, he's heard you talk about it. he'll buy you cotton candy and ice cream, and he'll hold your hand and lead you by the hand, nervously keeping you close to him so you don't run into anyone, and he'll even cover you from behind so your skirt doesn't ride up.

but right now he's here on the college campus, squeezing his t-shirt, washing his face with water, nervous because you've spent so much time close to each other.

and he's secretly glad that your friend got sick, leaving the two of you alone, and he was able to take that first step towards you.

oh, his size–

[d-lanx]

Ok here's a little thing i thought would fun for any artists to show off their progress at learning art (plus I'm nosey🤭).

Show off the oldest drawings you did (or the oldest that you can still find), the first things you were confident enough to upload online, and your most recent drawings and talk about them and show off how much you've progressed :)

Probably gonna end up missing some people, but I'm tagging a bunch of cool artists I follow/am mutuals with and am nosey to see how they started out, but no pressure :)

@fantasticalleigh, @thlayli-ra, @heelhausen, @stupidmarkzone, @2ndcitynightmare, @punk-o-ween, @normallypassingby, @tvheit, @seasonal-depression-of-punk

And if you wanna have a look at my old stuff, I've got it below =)

Oldest Drawings I Can Find

Of course, the first is an OC. Never did anything with her tho. Notice the lack of forehead and elbows, the arms that barely reach the hips, how indishtinguishable each part of the body is from one another. They're a perfectly smooth pole. and of course those wings. This is the first thing in my first proper sketchbook when I decided I was gonna start taking art more seriously. This would have been when i started secondary in 2014 at 11 years old. And I can't find anything from before that, since I never kept anything in a proper book/folder.

Second image is another of the first drawings in the book. It was my first closeup of a face, and also my first time drawing anime. I know I'm not the only artist who was desperate to learn to draw an anime-style as a kid. I remember doing this while on holiday, trying to follow an online tutorial, taking about 4 hours to get the outcome I did, and getting so frustrated that I couldn't get it to look right, that I was almost brought to tears. I'm pretty sure this was one of those "I'm never drawing again! >:(" moments, lol. Looking back, it was a pretty good first attempt. But I guess I was always a bit of a perfectionist, lol. Funnily enough, while I carried the anime eyes forward in my art style for years, to this day, I still can't draw a proper full anime style character.

First Drawings I Uploaded Online

I put these on insta to show my mates from school. The first picture was an attempt at a close up face with the new brush markers i'd got for christmas. This was 2017 just before i turned 14. Pretty sure I copied the design from an art tutorial book, that was supposed to be hyper-realistic (another christmas present). But I just couldn't bring that to life so just did what I could. Also, first time I used a signature. My signature's very different nowadays cos it's based on my tumblr username and not me actual name. But yeah. I was tryna get more professional I guess.

Second pic is the first full body piece I uploaded a few days later. Again, used the drawing books trying to learn how to draw flowy clothes. Think it was a book about drawing anime clothes that I used for this (another christmas present). By this point, each body part could move seperately and had joints. Also note the anime eyes, cos my simpler-but-still-anime-inspired eyes were something I stuck with a long ass time. This was the style I drew most often, and could usually do without having references (but obviously for this drawing specifically, I had the reference for the clothes). Had a lot of trouble with perspective, so all my characters faced forward, and later they would always face a 3/4 angle. And they could never lean or reach forwards cos I just couldn't get that to look right.

Most Recent Pieces

The most most recent is on the left, being my most recent closeup of a face. Still has a cartoonish edge with the lineart but much more realistic. And I'm fucking with this semi-realistic look atm. Tbh I dunno if i'd have the patience for the tiny details in hyperrealism. Also, fun story, in 2021 when I was doing my a-levels, I did an art piece that we were free to do in any style we wanted, and my teacher saw mine and was like “I wish you’d done it as realism instead of a cartoon style :(“ but it was actually my best attempt at realism and she hadn’t even realised. So I dunno, maybe I’m not cut out for realism 😂😂 I like my style rn tho so who cares

Then I got my most recent drawing of a (almost) full body. I got joints and decent hands and proportions and more body details.

Also this last year is the first time I've really got into digital. I always used to just do pen and paper. I even got a cheap drawing tablet, but couldn't get used to drawing on one surface and the image being up on a seperate screen. So I could never get the lines right. I did draw on my old ipad for a while which was easier, but the stylus was one of those with the thick rubber ball on the end, rather than a fine nib. Again, I had trouble cos I couldn't tell where it would register the contact with the screen and draw the line, which made it hard to do details. I got a new ipad a little while back that supports apple pencil, so I got one for it. And it's so much easier now that I've got a fine nib and can see where I'm drawing. I'm in love with drawing digital atm.

But yeah. That's how i've drawn over the years. Mental to see how much my style has changed and improved :) makes me feel better when I get frustrated with a drawnig and think I'm shit. Cos I know I'm getting better with each new drawing, even if it's only baby steps.

First: Now:

[luxiomahariel]

Okay this might be taken the wrong way but I find it genuinely funny- I saw a transandrophobic blog post being really bitter about how “tme’s” sometimes make posts tagged as TMA (in the context of talking about trans women’s issues in an obviously exclusionary manner) about The Magnus Archives and like. This post was super salty about it- and the fact that the fandom is mostly made up of trans guys and nonbinary people was actually like. Very important (I vaguely remember the post referring to it as a “tme show” that— damn! Sounds real fucking familiar to my parents pointing out that pretty much anything I liked, because I liked it, was a ‘chick flick’ and therefore didn’t deserve respect) things to note:

1. The implication. Is that they tagged their posts talking about these things with ‘TMA’. Or that trans guys are looking at something that says TMA somewhere and making it about this stupid podcast

2. I know there’s a good reason to be bitter if a serious topic happens to share a name with a fandom. I know it’s infuriating to try to talk about your issues and then when you look at the tag it’s people talking about their blorbos BUT this is something that just. Happens whether you like it or not, I have a pretty sincere feeling that whatever this lady is complaining about only happened once by some kid who’s ignorant of the discourse going on right now.

3. TMA— THE NORMAL AND EXTREMELY COMMONLY USED ABBREVIATION FOR *THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES-* IS WILDLY POPULAR! Like! I’d argue! There are way more tma fans than people who use tme/tma! It is an extremely popular podcast! If you go into the tag that says tma, I guarantee you will find 99 (example) people talking about this popular horror podcast and 1 person talking about TIRF shit!

.

[laylasverse]

LAYLA'S BIOGRAPHY don't really know why you'd want to know everything about her but here it is.

DEAR READER, my name is actually layla. this blog was started on december twenty-seventh, 'twenty-four, but i started my online shifting journey when i was fourteen and did not think to use a pen name. but it doesn't really matter anymore. being a shifter is no longer a hidden shame i carry. it's my salvation.

i am an '06 baby and a scorpio. i truly cannot remember what my first dr was but i know one of the firsts was a fame dr with dylan o'brien. he is and always will be my first husband ( don't tell jason! ). i have an affinty for funny brunettes. but not funny in a joke telling way, more of a not meaning to be funny type of comedy.

here's some of my useless favorites to try and pinpoint who i am: black panthers. dark green. pepperoni pizza with banana peppers. sour candy. national parks. mac miller. frank ocean. crewnecks. gold jewelry. southpaw. jared mccain. naps. walks.

BEFORE YOU FOLLOW ⋆ i do not feel comfortable being mutuals with anyone under the age of sixteen or ageless blogs ( current moots do not apply ). feel free to interact with my main blog though! ⋆ i am a grown woman so not everything i post is not going to be one-hundred percent sfw. i am not responsible for your internet consumption. ⋆ i do not mind if we have the same s/o. i just ask you to not dm me about them and your experiences with them.

DO NOT INTERACT ⋆ anti-shifting. race-changer. incest shifter.   ⋆ any kind of bigotry.

STICKY NOTES ⋆ the faces / people i use as fcs are only for edits. i use my own face in traveling the multiverse. ⋆ please give credits if you use my layouts / get inspo from my posts. you can tag me if you want. i love seeing everyone's posts <3

TAGGING SYSTEM ⋆ ﹙ 🖋️ signed by layla ﹚ basic posting tag ⋆ ﹙ 🍃 answered by layla ﹚ answering my inbox tag ⋆ ﹙ 🧺 sorted by layla ﹚ my masterlist posts ⋆ ﹙ 💼 curated by layla ﹚ my basic moodboard creating tag