#((Just like you said that’s why hobbies are so important! I need to get back to trying to learn how to crochet again))

[happiness-experiment]

Chapter 19 spoilers

Maybe I'm just stating the obvious but I feel like Leo is the reason Sho started cooking. I haven't seen anyone talking about it, maybe I'm just delusional or I misunderstood something but hear me out :')

Sho was well-off and did not have to cook for himself. He clearly says that he used to eat whatever was in his plate. He did not care about its nutritious value. Cooking for himself would have been a waste of time and energy when a housekeeper is paid to do it.

So what changed? How did he go from being disinterested about cooking to operating a food truck? It's not about making profits on his cooking skills. He is really knowledgeable about nutrition. He always comment on the quality of the food he's served during missions. He wasn't like that before. What would made him care about food?

I'd argue it is Leo.

This dialogue implies that Leo did not have a varied diet when he was younger. The nutritional value of hotdogs and yakisoba buns is pretty limited. While there is such a thing as only eating your comfort foods, Leo has been through some tough times, as hinted by his speech to Alan. Him being poor and not able to afford a lot of nutritious food doesn't sound far-fetched to me. He was visibly malnourished. Sho's comment make it clear. He could have been too poor to afford something else.

Sho could have taken pity on him, wanting to give him something nice to eat and discovering his passion for cooking. He enjoys cooking for others. He started to think about opening a food truck after MC told him he could sell his food (Episode 2 + Affinity chats), showing that he takes into account other people's opinions on his cooking. He links cooking with sharing. It would explain why he was initially not interested in cooking. *He* did not benefit from learning to cook. But *people around him* did. So he started doing it for them.

This fits well with Sho's attitude. We've seen him befriending people through food multiple times. His relationship with MC was tense until he offered her a sandwich in Episode 2. This was the first time he truly talked to her. Same thing for Subaru. They became friends thanks to the food truck.

Leo could easily have been the first person he connected with through cooking. They hanged out before but Sho giving Leo food was a way for them to be closer. Whether or not my theory is right, food plays an important part in their relationship. One of their school core memories was eating together. It was a way for them to connect.

Another fact that could support my theory is that Leo eats for free at Sho's truck. I need to check this again but if I remember well, it is said in the main story or in a campus story that he gets free food every lunch. I'm not saying that Sho never gives free food to other people. It happened with MC in a campus story and in Episode 16. But Leo seems to be the only one consistently exempt from paying. In Episode 16, MC insists to pay Sho back for the meal. It complies that she always/very often pay for the food.

Leo is a very famous Tiktoker. If he has the money to modify his dorm room, he definitely has the money to pay for Sho's food everyday. I think that it is his past food insecurity that make Sho unwilling to take his money. That or Leo hot used to the free food— Take this argument with a grain of salt until I find the source. I don't think I'm misremembering that but you never know.

When you add all of these facts up, it wouldn't surprise me if Leo was indeed the reason behind Sho's hobby. Let me know what you all think!

[fightingthetides]

[水] 

“Uhh… sure! I dunno the word for it.”

He wasn’t too in the know about the LGBT things because it wasn’t too big in Japan, but it didn’t mean it didn’t exist! It just—wasn’t as big as it was as compared to here, it seemed. He’s been learning a lot about it, but it made his brain spin sometimes trying to make sense of it all.

“I dunno man, you hear about a lot of Idols cheating on their partners and stuff. Yanno how many Seiyuu get into scandals? Especially the married ones. Hear cheating scandals with actors a lot too.”

It was either dating scandals, cheating scandals, or tax evasion. Those were the three big things he could recall off the top of his head for idols to come under fire.

“Right right, and sometimes, ideal is different from reality.”

Sometimes, you have a ‘type,’ but then when you actually experience it for yourself, you realize it isn’t for you. That’s how a lot of relationships in the athletic sphere end, because sometimes… the other party didn’t realize how much time athletes used to attend practices. Maybe it was an issue of romanticizing things?

“Kinda easy if your type is just personality or integrity-based instead of looks and all that.”

Sure, he may have a preference for someone who was at least a bit athletic so there would be something they had in common, but it wasn’t a set in stone requirement. What was a requirement was that they were loyal, they had integrity, and they were understanding. Those were really the main 3 things he looked at when looking for a future partner.

He did notice something when listening to some girl-talk in classes. Some girls had… really wild requirements. Saying they wouldn’t accept anyone under 6” tall was shocking- even if exceeds that height requirement! Don’t get him started on the requirement some of the girls had about his salary! He didn’t know if it was a cultural difference or what, but he was never so shell-shocked as when he listened to girls yap about their types and requirements for guys they saw on the dating apps they were on.

Mizumachi wouldn’t deny that appearances were important to being attracted to someone, but he would say that he really cared for the personality more than looks, because looks were going to fade sooner or later, but a pleasant personality was going to keep a relationship strong.

    "Oh, you mean like polyamory?" Vivian absentmindedly ends up uttering aloud. "Honestly, I thought most celebrities were monogamous... or in layman's terms, normies who happen to date only one person at a time; in fact, I don't know many famous people who are in open relationships, let alone idols who secretly have more than one romantic partner," she then admits. Why, Vivian could certainly see idols having many secret hookups and flings, sure, but more than one romantic relationship? Honestly, to her, it sounded a little far-fetched.

    "If you ask me, though... I feel like a romantic relationship involving more than two people could only work if all parties involved happen to be some sort of queer," she proceeds to idly point out, because for some reason, polycules involving straight individuals of mixed genders almost always led to disaster. Also, harems rarely worked out in real life, to the point where she was pretty sure Ryuta Watanabe was the only Japanese man who succeeded at maintaining a polyamorous relationship while remaining heterosexual.

    "Of course, by 'queer', I'm referring to those who identify as LGBT," Vivian then adds, because she's aware 'queer' was more so a Western word, to the point where it might not have been adopted into the Japanese lexicon alongside neo-pronouns. Still, she doesn't fault Mizumachi for having the boundaries he does, because if you aren't aromantic or polyamorous, sharing would understandably be quite difficult

    "And that's fair. I mean, we all have different things we look for in a partner. Not to mention, it's way better to be on the same page as another person first before becoming completely blindsided by certain stuff later on," Vivian acknowledges. Naturally, this means if someone knew they absolutely didn't want children, it's important they stressed that to whoever they're interested in, just so problems didn't proceed to crop up months down the line.

[lucidlabyrinthine145]

Yandere Batfam x Neglected!Elle Woods!Reader (Part 1)

- You're another one of Bruce's illegitimate children, and he took you in after your mother's death

- In the family you stuck out like a sore thumb. While everyone was an edgelord to some degree, you were bubbly and ditzy, liking pink and all types of feminine things, you also loved shopping and fashion, which led to everyone believing you were a spoiled brat

- As such, no one in your family took you seriously

- Bruce prioritised everyone else over you, since you were the only child of his that wasn't a vigilante and thought you could handle yourself since the others have the added burden of being vigilantes

- This led him to unintentionally missing important events in your life, like birthdays and competitions, and dismissed any issues you might have had, since he saw you as the 'normal' child

- You never saw Dick much since he was off in Bludhaven, but when he was around he was nice but distant. He'd ruffle your hair but his attention would quickly go to other things

- "Hey [Name]! Sorry, but I need to go look for Damian."

- Tim and you never really spoke much despite being closer in age, you were both just too different, and when you did try to engage with him and his hobbies he'd get annoyed and wave you away

- "Can you leave me alone? I'm busy." he said in annoyance as you tried asking him the details of his research on a current case

- Jason is jealous of you because in his eyes, you were a spoiled brat who had everything handed to them on a silver platter, what gives you the right to complain? He's always aggressive when he's around you, so you took to avoiding him whenever you could

- Damian was arguably the worst to you. When you first met, he attempted to kill you since he thought he had to kill the other biological child to get a place in the family, leaving a scar on your neck

- The worst part was having to listen to Dick and Bruce justify his actions

- "He's just a child, [Name]. He's been raised by assassins his whole life. Tim forgave him, why can't you?"

- It wasn't just that he tried to kill you, it was mainly that he never apologised and actively took time out of his day to belittle you for being the 'weak link' of the family

- You were largely okay with Cassandra and Barbara, but Stephanie was kind of a bully, she belittled you for your interests, calling you a 'pansy' and a 'wuss'

- Duke and Alfred were the only ones who showed you a shred of human decency, but they were busy, and you could tell that even they somewhat underestimated your intelligence

- Despite your pink-loving bimbo get-up, you knew damn well what everyone thought of you. It hurt, but it wasn't going to stop you. You used your brains to get into college while you were still a minor, studying to get your degree in Cosmetology

- It all came crashing down when your boyfriend, Warner, broke up with you

- "W-What do you mean you're breaking up with me?!" you stammered, feeling tears prick your eyes. "I'm sorry, [Name]. You're just too...pink." Warner said with faux apologetics.

- As you were left there crying, you swore to yourself that you'd win your boyfriend back. That you weren't just some bubbly girly pink airhead. You got into college while you were still underage. It's time to go to Harvard.

- And maybe your family will finally notice you, but that's more of a secondary objective.

-------------------------------------------------------

Taglist!

@cantfindmelol @princesscosmo @1abi @helloitsmeeeeeee @tojisluttttt @simpingpandas @cruzerforce4256 @sirenetheblogger @simpingmyassoff @icefox8155 @emotional-otter @aetheriis

[14dayswithyou]

Some long-term followers may have noticed this subtle shift already (especially those who are in the 14DWY Discord server or have read this post), but I figured I'd make it official.

I'm no longer associating myself with the yandere VN community.

The TLDR is that the energy here really fuckin SUCKS!! And I don't want to be part of something so hostile and needlessly competitive.

The constant infighting and epicaricacy between communities is deeply upsetting, and it's very disheartening to see aspiring developers cancel their projects because of the unwarranted backlash and harassment they face.

Some entitled folks on here reeeeally need to understand that constantly harassing others for updates, encouraging developers to belittle others to make themselves/their project look better, complaining about a project not meeting the expectations you specifically put in place, attacking other communities because of the parasocial relationship you share with another developer, getting mad that you chose to ignore important PSAs or warnings and faced the repercussions, or even sending in hate messages on anon because you're bored are not things you should be doing — let alone be proud of.

I try to avoid bringing up these topics as it's not the vibe I want to have on this blog (nor do I want to negatively contribute to the Streisand Effect and blow things out of proportion), but I'm genuinely getting tired of being on the receiving end of all this harassment and negativity, seeing it happen to others, and watching other indie developers encourage such vile behaviour. I'm done.

For those wondering what this means for "14 Days With You": for the most part, everything will still continue like usual. I've said this from the very beginning, but 14DWY is just a passion project I pursue whenever I feel like it. It's something I do for fun as a hobby — not because I want to publish a well-known game or turn it into a career. I've been on Tumblr for over thirteen years now, and it's taught me how to grow thick skin, so everything that I'm yapping and yammering about won't stop me from working on 14DWY.

However, this does mean that I won't be as interactive with other developers or their communities anymore; many ill-natured people have ruined this for me.

Because of them, I'm no longer able to voice my opinion on other games without some opinionated rat whispering in my ear about how the developer is "problematic" or that I could get cancelled for simply following them on Twitter. I can't interact with certain games without its parasocial community becoming hostile or gatekeepy towards anyone they don't like. I've seen communities belittle and devalue promising demos because in their eyes, nothing can compare to their favourite game (or their favourite developer). I have been harassed, bullied, and doxxed by other communities and have seen the same thing happen to others as well. I've heard about the developers who weaponise their community's loyalty to attack and drive out their competition. And I've witnessed more than enough developers expressing how badly they want to take a hiatus due to how much unwarranted negativity they receive, but don't want to disappoint their community by doing so.

By saying all of this, you can understand why I dislike being here so much, as well as why I no longer find any enjoyment in interacting with the yandere VN community.

Many people here — fans and developers alike — are so needlessly pushy about their standards and personal opinions being the norm, and if anyone else goes against them, they'll purposefully try to ostracise and bully them out of the community. This place isn't as laid-back or inclusive as it used to be, and I don't want to be associated with a community that acts so hostile and aggressive towards anyone who shares a differing opinion — nor do I want to be part of a space that caters towards developers who'll tear down others in order to have a moment of relevancy.

We're all doing our own thing and making our own games; it shouldn't be a competition. But if you see it as such, then I urge you to take a moment to stop and rethink your actions — or, at the very least, understand how it's affecting you and others around you.

So until there's a reasonable change and people can go back to being less... demanding, hypercritical, and gatekeepy about who interacts with what, I'll be stepping away and continuing to stay in my own bubble, as I have for the past two years now. I've already unfollowed everyone associated with the yandere community many months ago, but I think I'll just unfollow everyone entirely now for my own peace of mind. I will also no longer be interacting with any yandere VN communities (aside from close friends), nor will I be as public with my interests from this moment on. Everything on this blog will be strictly related to 14DWY like usual, and I will continue to block and report any spiteful "anons"/burner accounts sent my way and delete their messages.

Again, this isn't really much of an announcement — it's more so just paragraphs of me bitchin and moanin 🫶 — but I wanted to get this all out there instead of leaving things unsaid and having people come to their own conclusions as to why I've suddenly become less active, less optimistic, and why I've stopped engaging with a majority of the yandere community in the last two years.

So, yeah... ^^; If there's anything I want y'all to take away from this entire post, it's to be kind, open, and understanding towards everyone — developers and communities alike — and to spread support rather than negativity. It's what I want my own community to be known for, so please be mindful of how you treat others online.

And if you find yourself being surrounded by constant toxicity and negativity (be it from friends, mutuals, or even other developers or communities), please don't feel ashamed to step away or cut them off entirely. Put yourself and your mental health first. I also think it'll be good for me to leave all this negative energy behind and continue to kick off 2025 in a better light, so if y'all need to let out any frustrations of your own, feel free to go ham in the replies (obviously, be kind and civil though jghsjg T_T)

[loserinahotway]

Hobbies - Will Solace

Will Solace is head doctor. Easily and often shortened to only doctor. So, he thinks, knowing there’s more snide than there needs to be, who would expect him to have hobbies? Apparently, there’s a phase of dating that relies on their existence. 

Nico and Will have only been dating for two weeks. Haven’t kissed yet, have been on a solid three in-camp dates. And Will, on the forest floor with his back to some poor tree, is breathing heavy with the crushing, rock-hard weight of that stupid, too deep question that just. Keeps. Coming. Back.

He’s not stupid. He can see. He knows, logically, rationally, that it’s a standard question. A good and easy icebreaker. An important thing to know about as a partner. Yeah. Totally. Mhm. What do you do in your free time? Solid stuff. Solid. Solid. Good. Solid.

Solid enough to fill his lungs with rocks.

“Shit, what did I- what’s wrong? Will? Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I don’t- what did I do?”

In. Out. In. Out. In, in, in, in-

He wheezes, embarrassingly, and his forehead hits his knees. He can feel, lightly, that Nico’s hand is above his shoulder. Ghosting it. He’d make a joke if he wasn’t so nauseously panicked. It barely brushes him, hesitant in the anxious, heart-stopped way Will can’t afford to be. That’s a mean thing to think, he berates. You aren’t struggling more than he is. Don’t compare.

He thinks it anyway. I can’t afford that. I can’t have that.

Can’t have hobbies, either.

Will hates when he gets like this.

Nico, next to him and out of his sight, seems to have settled his own breathing. You win, Will thinks, and almost laughs. He doesn’t. “Hey, alright, do you-uhm, do you wanna do the breathing stuff you taught me?”

His hand finally drops to touch his back, and Will feels one finger trace an infinite square on his shoulder. He knows the rules. He’s said them to camper after camper. In for the first line, hold for the second, out for the third, hold for the fourth; in, hold, out, hold, in, hold, out, hold in. 

He doesn’t know how long it takes, but his breath does even out. 

And instantly, guilt. 

He shoots right up and turns to his date. Fuck, his date. A picnic in the woods at the edges of camp. What a lovely way to kill romance. With a pointless panic attack. “Fuck, fuck! I’m sorry, shit, Nico, you didn’t do-”

“Hey, hey,” Nico raises his hands, looking right into Will’s eyes. He looks panicked, like he’s not quite sure what to do. Will likes that, somehow. Not in a sadistic way. It’s calming to seem like he’s not the only one all messed up in the moment. Part of him still bites, why aren’t you fixing it. It sneers about his need to nurse everything back to health. Sometimes Will thinks he was born a contradiction. God and mortal swimming in his blood, with all sorts of emotional opposites moving after that. “We just got you breathing again. You don’t need to apologize to me, Will.”

Will just sort of keeps looking at him. He’s not sure how to respond. Not out of shock or anything, just a lack of words. Luckily enough, Nico continues. 

“I said something.” “You didn-”

“Will.” Nico furrows his brows with the name, and Will closes his mouth and cuts off the denial. He remembers, sometimes, that Nico is technically a prince. And the way he ties weights to words really does sound royal. “I’m not blaming myself, or beating myself up, or sad. I didn’t mean to do anything. I’ve got very little reason to get mad at myself. That won’t help. I’ve learned that, by now. I promise.” Lightly, he moves his hand to Wills. He slots their fingers together against the dirt. “But I care about you. A lot. So, if something I did hurt you, I want to know. I want to get at it and learn and- and be good to you. I want to be good to you, Will. Please. Let me?”

He blinks.

And blinks.

And, with tears in his eyes; “I can’t have hobbies.”

A beat. “What?”

And he just fucking bawls, after that. Crumpling impossibly smaller as Nico curses and reassures and gets closer to him, rubbing his shoulders and forearm. Gods. How fucking pathetic, he thinks. You’re supposed to be a doctor.

That line, that last line. It does do something to numb him. He quiets, after another little bit. And eventually he’s just sniffling and leaning half against the tree and half against the sweet, beautiful, surprisingly good with speeches boy he’s supposed to be on a date with. 

“‘M sorry,”

“I’m not mad, though.”

“Probably should be.”

He pauses for just a second. “I don’t think so, Will.”

Now, Will’s voice is monotone and devoid of anything in a way he’s a little sickly proud of. “I’m a freak.”

Nico raises an eyebrow. Will can’t see it, with his head on his shoulder, but he knows he does, because he knows Nico. “For what? Not filling your exceptionally limited free time with extra tasks?”

Will rolls his eyes. “That’s not what hobbies are.”

“Isn’t it?”

They both stop for just a little, sitting close and in silence. It's really quite nice. 

“Is there a reason this upsets you so much?” You know that feeling, where you’re asked a question, and your whole story just sort of unfolds backwards in your brain. You remember everything, see it all, but it’s behind things. It’s blurred and muffled by glass. That’s what happens to Will, there.

Everything Will Solace has read since he was nine has been in a medical textbook. Because godly gifts aside, he needs to know he’s getting things right. He needs to know how to treat the bleeding and coughing and crying children that are in his care. So the Star Wars novels he’d trek through as a kid are gone. Because he can’t read them without knowing that there’s something better he could be looking at. Something  more useful to get into his head. 

He is the son of the music god and a renowned country star. And he has not a drop of musical talent. Musical knowledge, sure. He can read any sheet music, he can tell you any fact about a piece by ear, he could probably even teach you to play any instrument with words. But for the fucking sake of him, he cannot  put anything that sounds good into the air. He gets stressed in low-stakes situations instead of high ones, like he was anxiously programmed backwards. His hands only shake when they’re presented with something that will distract him. Like a guitar. Like a microphone. Et cetera. There’s no instrument that will give him something he needs to have. So why play one?

When he writes, he subconsciously looks for the line he has to sign. The boxes to check. The space for notes. All he’s written in years has been hospital reports and records. Files upon files of them. How’s he supposed to write something without those little guides that have been leading him almost all his life? How would he pen a story, or characters, when all the ideas in his head are organized by urgency? 

Will hates closing his eyes, hates stopping to be with himself. Because then he sees it all. Every mistake. Every brother and sister. Every soaked-through bandage. Every failure. When he looks back into his head, those are the pictures. So what would he paint? Broken ribs? Dead family? Because those are the images he works so hard not to look at. He can’t paint, or draw, because that will bring them forwards.

His hands sewed the shrouds that burned over so many of his siblings. So many. They’ve sewn shut cuts and slices and wounds on almost everyone he lives in proximity to. How can he try sewing, when every needle he’s ever touched has been sticky with blood?

What hobby would you give to Will Solace? Because he really doesn’t see an option.

Still, He’s not really sure how to answer the question. 

“How are you gonna care about me,” He breathes, still internally settling on what he’s going to say. “If I don’t even fucking know me?”

Nico breathes something that sounds sort of like oh, and he pauses. Will sits in that silence, thick and dense, and hysterically, somehow, he’s fucking crying again. 

“Shit. Hey, no- I’m not, like, contemplating you, or being with you, or anything. You don’t need to worry about that. It’s not gonna change. I promise. ”

Will just laughs welty, still crying. Doctor. Doctor. 

The thought isn’t really working, this time. It sort of has a cooldown period. He’s all numb in that cooldown period. He’s good at switching emotions quick, isn’t he? Maybe that could be my hobby. He’s not really present enough to register whether that thought is a joke. 

“I’m just, wondering if that’s something people actually need from a partner. I guess that makes sense, when I think about it. but I never really did before now.”

“You’re the one who asked me. You knew, subconsciously, that it’s something people are supposed to have.”

“Well, maybe. But the questions i’m asking you-“ he breathes a laugh before continuing, “They’re because that’s a part of all the advice I’ve got. Ask him what he likes to eat, and do, and what his favourite colour is. That’s what everyone told me I was supposed to do. I don’t know what I’m doing, here. I’m learning. You’re learning, too. But I’m not learning how to, like, figure out your pastimes. I’m learning how to love you. I don’t need you to have a favourite colour for me to love you, Will.”

“Love me?”

His head is raised, suddenly. Eyes still teary and breathing still choppy. But he’s looking at Nico. His face goes red, but stony as ever, Nico doesn’t falter. “You’re my best friend, even if you’re my boyfriend, too. Of course I love you, Will.” 

Oh.

He’s still. Crying. And that really just makes him cry harder, dropping his head again, his lungs all full of something that won’t go through his blood. 

“Hey. Will. Hey, look at me. Look at me. You know what?”

He looks. 

“Neither do I.” Beat. Beat. Beat.

His heart feels like it’s about to burst. Like it’s full of light or tar.

“Huh?”

“I spent, just, so long. I spent so long seeking kiddie vengeance, and looking for some emotional band aid. I’ve been, like, nothing but angry, for years. I don’t do much, Will. I haven’t picked up many hobbies while feeling like that. So if you can’t be cared for, because you don’t know everything about yourself? then I’m just the same. And you tell me all the time I need to accept care. There’s nothing making you any different from me, Will. You deserve this, too. ”

And it’s light. 

Light.

It’s a stupid thing.

And he’s not fixed.

But it’s every fear in his body made just that little bit smaller, that little bit less loud.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you too.”

Nico grins. “I know.”

Will raises both of his eyebrows. “Was that a Star Wars reference?”

Nico laughs. “Gods, what have you made of me?”

Will laughs, too. “You do know me.”

His smile softens. “You know me, too. Hobbies or not.”

And they sit with that, for a bit. Will’s breathing is uneven, but not with panic. It’s a good feeling.

They sit next to each other, right until sundown, fingers entwined, and maybe. Just maybe. This is something Will  can have. Maybe, he’s not too beat down or busy for that. 

He’s one assurance closer to believing it.

[valenrixo]

First of all, your yandere Femboy was great I loved the little gremlin energy <3

How about a yandere sugar baby turned househusband? Just a spoiled brat

Please remember that the most important thing when writing is to have fun<3

Yandere sugar house husband!

Thank you for your kind words! Unfortunately I cannot moot u even if I wanted to because this is a second acc! (The main one is for irls)

Yandere sugar baby who hated your guts at first. You’d be so rough with him! Choking him and teasing him during intimate times…he liked it

Yandere sugar baby who came to your work one day and saw your assistant flirting with you and something snapped in him. Suddenly your assistant is desperately putting in their two week notice.

Yandere sugar baby who now drags you out to have lunch with him, this idiot doesn’t even know that he loves you yet he just wants you to be his.

Yandere sugar baby who after a night of intimacy found himself drooling at the sight of you.

“Damn it! They will get me pregnant and defy biology!” He thought banging his fists against the sheets. It caused a raised eyebrow from you and he stopped.

Yandere sugar fiancé who finally realized he was in love with you when you took care of an injury of his, now he basically doesn’t let you leave the bed whenever you’re off work

Yandere sugar fiancé who manipulates you by searching up rings on your business computer while you were getting coffee and pretended like he found it in your search history.

“Gasp! You really love me, you better pick out the best ring!” He cooed hugging your arms. Now you had to get it….you really didn’t want to deal with him crying.

Yandere sugar husband who realized soon after the wedding that he had tasks he had to do now.

Yandere sugar husband who can’t cook at all but please stop looking at him with disappointment! He’ll try better!

Yandere sugar husband who soon finds out how to cook simple craft Mac and cheese so you eat that a lot.

Yandere sugar husband who now finds enjoyment looking at kitchen supplies and cleaning supplies.

“Isn’t this a bit stereotypical…? You become a house husband and you suddenly like cleaning supplies? Is this really what your life is like now Lieo?”

“I don’t care! Look at this new type of scrub daddy!” He said picking up the packaging and shoving it in your face. You actually started worrying about him…

Yandere sugar husband who whenever you get hit on clears his throat obnoxiously and shoved your matching rings in their face before he forces you to put the hand on his waist.

Yandere sugar husband who starts being more spoiled, why have you been more gentle with him in the bedroom recently?! He craves the pain! He throws a fit when you’re too nice…sometimes it wrecks the mood..

Yandere sugar husband who demands the cutest aprons and decorations for any holiday, what do you mean he doesn’t need another 100 foot Christmas light package?? It’s on sale!

He bit your once because you cooked breakfast instead of him….he sobbed out sorrys and other apologies as he kissed it better.

Yandere sugar husband who really needs to find hobbies now, maybe get him back into dance like before?

Requests open! Please read rules! This got even longer wowiwowowow!

[kedreeva]

Okay so, I don't think I've spoken of the saga here yet but! Gather round. I shall tell you a long story about the bird I just acquired and why she is VERY IMPORTANT.

At the beginning of last fall, I started looking into quail genetics a little more, because I got tired of not being able to sex my Celadon quail by their feathers. Originally I thought I could kill 2 birds (ok maybe more) with 1 stone and order nice jumbo wild type (which MANY places advertised as wild type jumbo) hatching eggs, and this would help me put some size on the Celadons (jumbo) while also making them feather sexable (wild type). Perfect!

But then I come to find out that pretty much all jumbo lines are jumbo BROWNS, as in they all have the sex linked brown (SLB) gene. So, I was a little confused and a LOT annoyed because I wanted to work specifically with the wild type color/pattern. No mutations just straight, plain wild type.

And EVERYWHERE I looked - major production hatcheries, private breeders through websites, Facebook groups, local swaps, craigslist, e v e r y w h e r e -

People ONLY had SLB.

This spring I came across a video showing about the differences between SLB and wild type and I figured if the person who made it can tell, maybe she will have some. So I looked her up (not in a stalker way, her farm name was stamped on the video and took me to the website), and what luck! She was in Michigan! Upper Michigan, so still a hike, but not California, y'know?

So I shot her an email and explained that I was looking for WT and that her site said she bred them and that people could do local pickup. She responded yeah she's totally got a bunch! And I said great, I'm also in Michigan, albeit far away, but I don't mind driving 7+ hours each way, because I really need actual, trusted WT for sure birds for my celadon project, can I come pick them up?

Cue the most frankly bizarre email chain in my short life. As soon as I mentioned that I was going to drive, or perhaps that I had a genetics plan in place, she got super sketchy and started saying how she hadn't really paid as close attention to SLB vs. WT, that it mattered less than she thought it would when she started, that I shouldn't focus on that either, and also that "fawn celadon is practically unheard of" in the hobby and "you should focus on a clean Tibetan because it's hard to find without roux in it) implying that I should concentrate on those things instead. And concluded by telling me if I really want WT, to contact this other person (why happens to be someone I can't stand). It all sounded VERY much like she didn't have wild type males, after all, and had thought I didn't know the difference so it wouldn't actually matter. But, it does. It actually matters a lot to me.

So I messaged back to say, well, I don't want to do any of those things, I specifically want to work with this set of genetics and you said you have them so I shouldn't have to go to anyone else??

And then she went radio silent for a week. I kind of figured I'd called a bluff, and that she was one of dozens of people I'd contacted who'd said they had WT only to find out they had SLB. I get that it's difficult to see the difference, but this particular person was the president of the American Coturnix Breeders Association or whatever (found out it's actually just a club formed by her and her friends a year ago, so not as impressive as it sounds, considering they don't actually DO anything- no putting on shows, no newsletters, no certifications, no public breeder directory, no finished SOP, nada), so I kind of expected she should know what she's talking about, if anyone does.

Eventually, after a week, she responded that she had been judging at a county fair, but she had a few heterozygous males (WT het roux, which is fine) and she could set a hatch for me for more if I wanted to come at the end of the month, but she's in WI now, not MI. I said sure, since where she was in WI was actually closer than where she'd been in the UP, and we arranged date/time.

The day of, my neighbor friend, Jude, comes with me for company/keeping me awake through the 15 hours driving round trip. It's a pleasant enough drive. We arrived at a cutesy little house on the edge of town that looks like anyone's house in a neighborhood, with a spacious lawn. The person meets us and takes me around the side of the house to a 6x6x1.5 or so chicken tractor, where she's got some male coturnix. She pulls the available males for me to look through and... fam, they ALL looked SLB, to me.

Now, she swore to me up and down that they couldn't be anything except WT het for roux, because of the way she is breeding them. But I've put these birds next to my SLB males and if I didn't have my males banded, I would not ever have told the difference between them. I still picked up 4 of them, because I will give it a go- worst case, I can produce plain Roux hens/plain Roux males for use in breeding later, best case they do actually produce WT hens and they just LOOK SLB and I have to figure out what the differences are. I don't want to leave without seeing her hens, which she has told me are all WT (which is why the males HAVE to be het for it), and she takes me back. Now the hens, the hens are easy to see the difference. White bellies first of all, but the chest feathers are also wildly different! The shafts are white, the dot around the shaft is dark, ringed in red, ringed in white. On an SLB, the shafts aren't white, it's just a black dot surrounded in a red feather, and the belly is all red/buff/cream, not white.

This is what an SLB hen looks like:

So I take a nice long look to memorize the color, and thank her for showing me and meeting, and we head back home.

I do fecals when I get home because all of the males are VERY thin, no meat on them at all, and since she said she'd been feeding Purina (garbage for fowl feeds), I figured that was why, but no- HUGE coccidia loads in all of them. So I treated them and got them on a better feed. They immediately began putting on meat, and they're find now.

The rest of this summer, I have spent going to local bird swaps and inspecting all of the quail I could find, hoping to find one (1) actual wild-type phenotype bird. Hundreds and hundreds of birds, I have pawed through them all, being super obnoxious to the owners I'm sure, holding and inspecting males. I found ONE suspected WT male (and this is a HUGE "suspected," he could very well be SLB with low red expression). I compared him when I got home and I'm doubting myself still, so I don't know if I will ever actually pair him with the SLB hens or if I'll just wait til I have a roux set.

Regardless, it's been a dry season for getting what I want. It's been a dry YEAR. Yesterday was another swap and more hundreds of quail and me pawing through all of them.

Until.

My eyes landed upon.... her.

If you've only lived in an area that has american crows and not ravens, you find yourself wondering if crows are ravens. You see a big crow and you think wow! maybe that is a raven! It could be a crow, but it's seems bigger so maybe it's a raven. But, if you take a trip to a place with ravens, and you see one for the first time, you realize that there is no question, when you see a raven. When you see a raven in person, there's no question and not only is there no question, you wonder how you could ever have thought a crow was a raven. It's laughable, while looking at the raven.

That's how finding this bird felt. I'd been picking up every SLB hen and going maybe this is actually WT? It could be SLB but maybe it's WT? But the second I laid eyes on her in the middle of a pack of SLB with some mixed colors, I knew I was looking at WT hen, and I can't imagine how I ever thought maybe an SLB hen was WT.

Here's a better photo of her chest and belly (she's beat UP from her previous home, the back of her head and most of her rump are plucked clean from males). You can see the white shafts and the white belly.

And some other pics of her, showing the grey-brown on her side and back- VERY different than the SLB hens

I can't express how stoked I am about this bird. This is the first time after a LOT of effort and time, that I have felt confident I am holding the bird I want.

She's also the indicator that I have a LOT of work ahead of me.

My end goal is to have birds that look like her, weigh 12-14oz, and lay large, blue eggs. I have birds that lay large, blue eggs, I have birds that weigh 12-14oz live weigh, and now I have at least 1 bird that looks like her, which means I can make more that look like her. The first step is cleaning the color mutations out of the celadon line without losing the celadon eggs. This is going to be a bit of a nightmare, BUT, I have a friend helping me out with getting a few celadons that are either WT or SLB (I'm guessing SLB all things considered) to start the work with. I will work over the winter to get a few more actual WT birds here, and to start crossing out the celadons with the SLB jumbos to clean out the other feather color mutations. Once I'm down to just SLB and celadon for mutations, I can clean the SLB out with the WT and roux lines.

This project will likely take me a good 2 years, maybe 3, to complete and then test breed to ensure I haven't lost the celadon gene and I don't have any hidden recessives lingering about. But just having the fucking materials to do it all on hand now is a huge step forward from where I was when I decided to start the project.

[hellfirenacht]

Anomaly Chapter 8

Fic Summary: You can talk to anyone in school with no problem. At least, anyone who’s not named Eddie Munson.

Chapter Summary: Eddie tries to make a connection, but unfortunately he is Eddie Munson

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, one-sided enemies to lovers, one-sided pining, miscommunication trope, anxious-ish!Reader, fem!Reader, Reader is not described, no use of Rachel, Rise of Hellfire characters

Word Count: 4.5k words

Authors Notes: Okay, this chapter is all over the place and I'm sorry about that. I re-wrote this a few times and I'm still not happy with it but it gets us where we need to go, like a sketchy gas station. Also this is ANGST.

Master List

Eddie felt confident about three things about himself; he knew he was a good Dungeon Master, he knew that he was skilled on guitar, and finally he was able to get a fairly good read on people if they could talk to him like a normal person for three fucking minutes.

That third thing was very helpful with the first. By knowing his players and how they worked and what made them tick, he was able to craft amazing stories that were satisfying to his players and their characters. 

It was also helpful when Eddie was earning his extra money on the side. Knowing who was genuinely safe to sell to was important when it seemed like everyone and their mother had a target on his back for no good reason. Stacy had been safe to sell to with her no-bullshit approach. The art kids were a safe bet in most cases when they needed to be “inspired”. And Chrissy Cunningham... well, he gave that shot but she never showed up. 

You had talked to him as a person the day that the two of you had snuck off for a smoke break when you were supposed to be calling businesses. You made small talk with him about his club. In those moments you treated him like an actual person, and he thought that maybe he had been wrong about you. 

And then he walked into school and saw you talking to Stacy. You looked pissed and Eddie, being the virtuous man he was in a small town, decided to eavesdrop on the conversion. 

“What’s your problem this morning?” Stacy laughed as you rummaged through your locker as best you could with one hand. 

“Eddie. Eddie is my problem. He’s always my problem.” You groaned. “I’d be perfectly fine and dandy otherwise.” 

Right, of course. You were just humoring him these past few days. Eddie always thought that you wore your emotions on your sleeve like he did. You had shown your dislike, but he thought you would have calmed down after the time you had spent together. 

Eddie kept listening though, because he wasn’t about to be that dipshit that heard something out of context just to misinterpret it. Maybe you weren’t talking about him. Maybe there was another Eddie he didn’t know. Hell, maybe you had a personal grudge against Van Halen. He’d have to judge your taste, but at least it wouldn’t be about him.

Why did he care so much?

“I’m really just exhausted.” You sighed. “I’m feeling too much at once lately, and all I want is a normal boring day. Between the wrist, my grades, Benson, and the whole Eddie thing- I’m just about running on fumes.” 

The whole Eddie thing. So there was a thing with him. Was he why you were exhausted? No, you just said it was more than him. Eddie found himself hoping that he was closer to the bottom of the list. 

The two of you had, what he had thought, was a really pleasant conversation when the two of you hung out behind the school. You had listened to him talk about his hobby, you two had discussed the alignments of water fowl. Eddie thought that things were going to be more amicable between the two of you. 

Guess not. 

Eddie moved away before he was caught eavesdropping. 

He tried to shake it off. It’s not like this was unusual; Eddie was used to people (usually his customers) playing nice in private and then ignoring his existence once back in society. 

It just didn’t make any fucking sense to him, no matter how he turned it in his mind. Those people never listened to him ramble about his game, let alone remember enough details to bring up so naturally with him. 

The whole Eddie thing. The conversation between you and Stacy shifted to other things and Eddie walked away. He’d rather you just come out and tell him what was wrong rather than just seeth at him from a distance. Everyone else in this shithole had the decency to make it clear what about him they didn’t like. And what a list there was! His hair, his clothes, his music, his grades, his speeches, his outspokenness, the way he’d lean into being a Satan Spawn to piss everyone off even though it was a load of bull- there was a long list that you could pick from!

If anyone had to make a guess, it was probably because you were so quiet about your dislike that pissed him off. If you would have just given him any of the reasons you didn’t like him then he could shrug it off and move on. Eddie wasn’t as self-aware as he would assume he was in this situation, and so your continuous ire irritated him to no end like a scratchy tag on a new t-shirt. It was always just barely there, no matter how much he wanted to ignore it. 

All he needed was one reason to drop it and to just carry on. And so, at the end of Benson’s class he offered to carry your books for you again and escort you to the cafeteria. You had gaped at him for a moment, probably for continuous nerve he had to speak to you when others were around, but accepted his help. 

The small talk was nothing to write home about; the test, Spring Day, your “extra credit”, and of course the infamous Pep Rally Incident. 

“You looked like you would have been anywhere else during the pep rally.” you had said. 

“I tried to skip, but I got caught.” Eddie had been skipping pep rallies for so long, and no one had ever given a shit before. In his humble opinion, they should be begging him to stay a thousand feet away from the gym at all times, lest his lack of school spirit affect and disillusion his fellow classmates. 

“Try breaking your wrist next time. It got me out of it.” Eddie hated that you amused him. Why were moments like this so easy, but you always looked at him so intensely? What was The whole Eddie thing?  

“You broke your wrist trying to apologize, I wouldn’t apologize to anyone in this shithole.” Eddie said without thinking. He’d be willing to apologize if he was wrong, being no stranger to humble pie as one Ronnie Ecker would know. Other than that one summer of groveling so that he wouldn’t lose his best friend, there was no one at Hawkins Hell that was worthy of his forgiveness. 

“Not even your friends?” 

“If I had an issue with one of my friends we’d talk about it.” Eddie looked at you, hoping that you’d get the hint. He just needed one reason, a single reason why you didn’t like him so that he could file you away with all the other people in this town. 

He tried to pinpoint the expression on your face. Surprise, or maybe embarrassment for being called out? Whatever it was, Eddie had struck a nerve and he knew it. 

Stacy, the busybody, interjected before you could say anything and promptly shoo’d him away when he declined to join them. 

The rest of the school day went by as usual. He did get caught trying to skip last period but as he was already serving Benson after school, he was let off with a warning this time. Eddie was beginning to suspect that the teachers here were growing bored of targeting him, especially with graduation looming over the horizon.

Eddie pushed aside his pride as he pulled your desk towards his as the two of you worked on the test. He tried to ignore your presence, pretending he was a wizard deep in study as the two of you poured over the books. He tried to imagine you as a toad, but your hair looked (and smelled) too nice for that. A cat would have to do. Eddie wasn’t particularly fond of cats, but they always seemed to like him better than anyone. 

With the test turned in, and with his dismissal, Eddie booked it out of the classroom with you not too far behind. He made sure to give you the slip, not wanting to be more of a thing than necessary. 

Outside, it was pouring rain and he was parked on the far side of the parking lot and he really wasn’t in the mood to get drenched or struck by lightning. So he figured he could dick around school while teachers and clubs continued their more voluntary after school activities save for the detention room where Eddie passed by and waved with a wiggle of his fingers to the teacher. 

He supposed it would have been too much to ask that the rest of his day could go by without incident. 

“Forget about the freaks, I need your help!”

What the fuck had that been about? Everything had happened so fast, he barely had time to register it until him and Dustin had been out of Danny’s sight. The cause of the fight didn’t matter, Danny had probably said something stupid and Dustin had said something too smart for his own good and Eddie had shown up seconds after Dustin had been slammed into a locker. 

It had been a while since someone had picked on his friends. Eddie had made a point to be such a spectacle that the worst that they could expect most of the time was a snide remark or a look. No one wanted to fight someone who they thought was genuinely out of his mind. 

The incident would have been unremarkable if you hadn’t shown up, drenched to the bone and screaming about homework. You looked almost as insane as he had felt. Was that your way of trying to help, or were you that shook up about your school work that you demanded help from someone who had probably never even opened a book before? 

“That’s the girl that keeps staring at you.” Dustin said, once they were out of the way. “Guess she saved our asses.”

“Right. Saved.” Eddie said, not fully convinced. He had met a lot of people in this small town, but none of them were as confusing as you. 

Once Dustin was safely in his mom’s car, Eddie ran through the rain to get into his van where he cranked up the stereo as loud as it could, hoping to drown out his thoughts. If that didn’t work then a sample of his stash at home would. 

---

Eddie would know Kenny’s copy of The Shady Dragon Inn anywhere. The edges were singed from the time the original dungeon master decided it would look cool to set the front cover on fire a little to give it the feel of having been burned by a dragon. There were tears and creases and notes all over the pages from past campaigns, and it filled Eddie with nostalgia for his first party with Kenny and Ronnie and the others. 

This module was less of an adventure and more of a guide for DMs to create NPCs with a few pre-generated ones, as well as a layout for the titular Inn. Eddie would never admit it, but creating NPCs could feel monotonous and was his least favorite part of creating his campaigns. He’d rather be designing villains and crafting dungeons and puzzles and monsters. Besides, there were a few in here that Kenny had used before that he thought would work for the next adventure. 

The last time he had seen this book it had been sitting on the dining room table at Kenny’s place over winter break when they had met up to shoot the shit. So how was it now sitting on his desk in the middle of school? Eddie doubted that his kid brother knew his schedule well enough to plant the book and he had thought Kenny would be showing up this week for Hellfire just to say hi. 

Forgot to give this to you yesterday. 

The sticky note that was slapped onto the front cover wasn’t signed, but Eddie had seen enough of your handwriting the other day to know it was yours. How the hell had you got your hands on this?

Every time Eddie thought he was going to leave you alone, you pulled him back in. 

This time, when he offered to carry your books, you didn’t stare at him so dumbfoundedly. You just nodded, and kept your head down at the floor as you two walked. 

“Where’d you get this?” Eddie asked, holding up the module. 

“I met your friend while talking to Zack.” you said, looking like you had personal beef with the linoleum. “He wanted to drop it off to you and I said I could hand it over. Then you ran off before I could.”

It was as good a reason as any. 

“You didn’t read any of it, did you?” Eddie asked, his voice overly suspicious for dramatic effect. “It’s full of dark magic and satanic spells. Really intense stuff.” 

“I opened it out of curiosity and my wrist started hurting again.” your voice was deadpan. “I told my mother and she took me to a priest who immediately performed an exorcism. I am no longer allowed to have pea soup.” 

Eddie laughed, genuinely laughed harder than he meant to. He threw his head back like a little kid, and the sound of his mirth echoed through the hallways and forgot that he didn’t know what your deal was with him. In a moment like this he could pretend that you two could have been friends. 

For a second, he wished you two were, unknowing in that moment you were wishing for the same thing. 

“I didn’t read it.” you lied after his laughter had died down. You juggled your books as you swapped them out at your locker and grabbed your lunch box. Eddie would never know that you had rushed your math homework this morning at school before handing off a copy to Danny, as you had stayed up far too late reading the module and taking notes. 

“Good, I’d hate to be the one to corrupt your pure soul.” Eddie said, which made you snort loudly in turn. 

“Good, because I’m saving that for someone special.” you said, looking at him for a moment before realizing you were mad at the dirty floor and looking away. You were quiet for a few seconds, and Eddie was about to say something before you spoke up again. “Sorry about yesterday. I panicked.” 

Once again, you were apologizing but he wasn’t sure what exactly for. Was it for calling him and Dustin freaks? Probably not, that was just true. 

“Guess you really needed that homework, huh?” Eddie asked. 

You just shrugged, with a nonchalance reminiscent of how he’d responded a few days ago when you were asking about where he lived. He knew a touchy subject when he saw it.

“He’s not hurt is he?” you asked. “Your friend, I mean. The freshman.” 

“Henderson? He’s fine. He’s a fighter.” Well, technically he was a bard which didn’t exactly have the best hit points. But the kid was scrappy, and had faced worse bully encounters. 

“That’s good.” you sighed. 

“He says you saved his ass.” Eddie said casually. “If you hadn’t shown up and freaked out things might have been ugly.” 

Your face scrunched up. “Well, glad I could help. Danny’s an idiot. It was a crap shoot if he even knew what the homework was.” 

Once again, Eddie delivered you to Stacy and declined her invitation to sit with them. For a moment, he considered taking up her offer just to see what you would do. He imagined the faces you’d make if he sat across from you and Stacy; if you had been that mad at the floor just from him walking next to you, then you’d probably end up burning a hole in your lunch by sitting with you. 

---

With the final bell of the day rung, Eddie found himself walking into Benson’s class with you as the last student staggered out. The two of you sat at the front desks, waiting for your marching orders. 

After a few minutes, Ms. Benson looked up at the two of you. “What are you two doing here?” she asked. 

Eddie looked at you, and then back to Ms. Benson. “We’re here to help with Spring Day?” It was more of a question than an answer. 

“Hm? Oh, no you’re not.” she said. “That’s what the Student Council is for.” 

This time you and Eddie looked at each other, and you spoke up. “But you said that if we helped you’d give us extra credit.” 

“No.” Ms. Benson said again. “That wouldn’t be allowed. I had you two come to do personal detention to make up work. That’s all. You two can go now.” 

“This was detention?” you asked. 

“Am I still banned from Spring Day?” Eddie added. “And what was all that work for anyway?” 

Ms. Benson sighed deeply and spoke slowly. “I would never have any of my students take over any part of planning a school event if they were not part of the student council. Even if I did I would never give them a task that I, myself, was given. You two are done. Go.”

Neither of you needed to be told twice. The two of you got up and left the room quickly, closing the door behind you. 

“....Did she just pawn her work onto us?” you asked, looking at him with so much confusion that your issues with him or the floor were ignored for the moment. 

“Yup.” Eddie said, shaking his head with a chuckle. 

You rubbed your face, looking out a deep sigh. “At least we did get some extra credit?” 

“Looks like I’m still banned from Spring Day.” 

“Is it really that fun anyway? None of the places we called seemed... fun.” you said. 

“It’s more fun than sitting in detention all day.” Eddie replied. “I was just gonna skip anyway.” 

“I guess we’re done then.” Did you sound disappointed? Must be his imagination. 

The two of you walked in silence to the parking lot. Eddie found himself unusually quiet, reflecting over the last few afternoons with you. He would be the first to deny it, but he was almost disappointed. When the two of you were alone, you were nice to be around. 

“Ah. Well, shit.” 

Eddie looked at you, and then followed your gaze to the parking lot where he saw Stacy riding off  with Chrissy Cunningham. 

“I take it that was your ride?” Eddie asked. 

“Not officially,” you sighed. “Thought I’d catch her before she left. I wouldn’t wanna be the third wheel anyway.” 

Third wheel? Chrissy’s sparkly signature on your cast didn’t give off ‘third wheel’ to him. 

Eddie considered leaving you here, you probably had a ride home with your parents later in the day. 

“Need a ride?” he asked, not knowing which answer he wanted from you. 

“I... really?” you looked up at him. “I’m in the opposite direction of Forest Hills.” 

It would be so easy to decline, rescind his offer. 

“I’m going that way anyway.” Eddie shrugged, lying through his teeth. “I need to swing by somewhere first anyway if you don’t mind.”

If he scrounged up some change, he could make a quick stop. 

“I’d honestly really appreciate it.” you said, sounding genuine. “I don’t mind if you need to stop somewhere. I’d rather be anywhere else right now.”

Taking to heart that you meant the school and not his presence, he led you to his van. He strode forwards faster, using the distance to shove some things into the back seat as quickly as possible so that there was room for you. His van was messier than usual, it usually was in the colder months and he’d been telling himself for weeks that he’d clean it soon. 

You didn’t say a word or make a face as you hopped into the passenger side seat. Eddie’s van made a startling noise before coming to life and you winced as his radio blasted music on max volume. 

Eddie quickly scrambled to turn it down to a level more reasonable for normal ears, and you relaxed a little. 

“What are we listening to?” you asked, glancing down at the small stack of tapes on his center console. 

“It’s a mix tape I’m working on for Dustin.” Eddie said. “Only the first side is done.” 

“The freshman from the other day?”

“Yeah, I’ve been giving him a good lesson in rock and metal.” 

“What about minerals or crystals?” 

It took a moment for your joke to register completely with Eddie, and he stared at you for a moment. “No.” he said bluntly. 

“I thought witches liked crystals!” 

“Witches aren’t a playable class. Wizard would be the closest, maybe a mage.” Eddie said. “There might be a specialist wizard that would use crystals as components. Some spells might need them.” 

“Your game is a lot of work, huh?” you asked. “There’s a lot to remember.” 

Once again, you were showing interest in his game. There had to be some common ground there and once again, Eddie was never the type to turn down earnest questions about the game that gave him a feeling of belonging. 

“Oh yeah.” he agreed, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it into the back seat. “It’s easier if you’re just a player, but when you’re running the game you have to remember everything else.”

“Are those real?” you asked suddenly. “Your tattoos, I mean.” 

Eddie looked down and held out his arm towards you. “They better be with what I had to pay for them.” he said. Tattooing was technically illegal in Indiana, and so he had to really search for someone who was willing and able to mark him up. He had to pay and barter his way through what he currently had. 

Your hand was hesitant and surprisingly gentle as you touched the ink Wyvern on his arm. There weren’t exactly a ton of people in Hawkins with any kind of tattoos, as they didn’t really reflect the wholesome image of an upstanding citizen. 

“Did they hurt?” You asked, looking closer at his arm, as if you were really taking in the details. 

“The one on my collarbone hurt like a bitch.” Eddie admitted, pulling his shirt down to show off the black widow. 

“I like the bats.” you said. “I think they look badass.”

“They were the easiest ones for me.” Eddie said, trying not to look too pleased with the compliments. 

“They look better than a bunch of random signatures.” you said, touching the cast on your arm. Eddie looked it over, and remembered the thick expo marker he had jacked from one of his classes. 

“How attached to Jason Carver’s name are you?” Eddie asked. 

“Not at all. I didn’t have a choice with that one. Chrissy wanted to sign it and he was there so...” 

“Perfect.” Eddie grabbed the marker and pulled off the cap with his teeth as he pulled your cast towards him. “Any requests? Should be easy enough to cover up.”

“I- anything. Dealer’s choice.” There was a challenge in your eyes that Eddie wasn’t about to turn down. 

Being careful not to cause any harm to your wrist, he made quick work of scribbling a couple of bats on your arm over Jasons’s name. It wasn’t his best work; the texture of the plaster of your cast wasn’t exactly the easiest to draw on, but he managed. The result was a colony of bats, with one turned into a dragon for good measure*. 

When he released your arm, you took a look down at it and smiled- one of those real smiles that you had given him a few days ago. You were attractive when your face was relaxed like that. 

“So, am I a badass spawn of Satan, now?” you asked with a look in your eyes that gave Eddie a weird but excited feeling in his chest. 

“Not exactly, but if you walk around with that you might end up a social pariah which is a good starting point.” He shrugged, finally starting to pull out of the parking lot. 

“I guess I’ll have to start somewhere.” 

The two of you were a few blocks away from the school when Eddie had an idea. If you were really interested in the game and being a Spawn of Satan and his game, he should take you to the next best thing to Hellfire Club.   

Eddie pulled into the parking lot of the shopping center, not noticing how quiet you had suddenly become. He didn’t always have the cash to get something from the game shop, but- “I need to pick up some dice anyway, I think one of the freshmen is eating mine. Let’s go.” 

“No.” 

Eddie looked over at you and you were looking guilty, like you’d rather be anywhere else. You had your head down again, now deciding that the old can of TAB near your foot was the real problem. 

“There’s not gonna be anyone in there. It’s usually just Chris working.” Eddie said. “He’s kind of an ass, but-”

“I can’t.” your voice sounded a bit choked. “You go ahead. I’ll guard the car.” 

“Are you-”

“Dude, just go. It’s fine.” You snapped. 

It was the most openly hostile you had been to his face, and Eddie felt a flare of anger in him and he got out of the van. He was pissed as he got the dice, and pissed as he drove you back home in silence. 

Fine, he tried. With you it was one step forward and a mile back. You could hang out in private but wouldn’t date to be seen with him anywhere else. 

You gave him directions to your home, and there were times where you looked like you wanted to say something but couldn’t. 

When he finally pulled up into your driveway, you hopped out fast but didn’t close the door yet. You didn’t look at him when you spoke. 

“Sorry. I just- I can’t go in there. It’s not you.” 

“Right.” Eddie said, not believing you. He was starting to get annoyed at your constant apologizing. You’d say something, then apologize, and then the cycle would repeat. 

“I mean it!” you looked up at him. “I- I just can’t go in there.”  

“Why not?” Eddie said. 

You looked guilty again, and your looked like you were going to panic at the question. 

“Don’t worry about it.” He finally said, running his fingers through his hair. “I’ll see you around, I guess.” 

You closed the door without protest, and you watched as he drove away. He saw you through his mirrors as he drove down the street and you looked... bad. For a moment he felt like he was making a mistake, but when you kept insulting him and turning around to apologize... what was he supposed to do? He’d seen this pattern before. 

---

“Stacy.... What the fuck is wrong with me?” 

---

Author Notes: No dividers right now, as I am at work and there's a lady in my ear complaining about pizza for the stupidest reasons. I'll come back later and make it more pretty but I need the boost from posting something.

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[insidekatmind]

Distraction-Brock Rumlow

Your breathing is calm, but your heart beats a little faster than usual. You're used to these missions, living on the edge, but there's something about this situation that feels off. Maybe it's the plan. Or maybe it's the fact that Steve asked you to distract Brock Rumlow, the most unsettling agent you've ever met.

"Y/N, I need you to cover for me. I have to talk to Pierce, and we can't afford for Rumlow to get in the way. You're the only one who can pull this off," Steve said to you, his tone serious but his gaze full of trust.

"Do you have any idea how obsessed he is with me?" you replied, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Exactly why I asked for your help. I need time, and you're the only one who can keep him busy," he replied, a faintly apologetic smile on his lips.

You sighed, knowing you couldn't say no. Steve is your best friend, and you trust him more than anyone else.

Now, here you are, in the hallway of the S.H.I.E.L.D. base, and Brock Rumlow is standing in front of you. He's staring at you with that look that always makes you want to roll your eyes.

"Rumlow," you say with a forced smile, "can I talk to you in private?"

He raises an eyebrow, but a smug grin quickly spreads across his face. "Sure, Y/N. Where do you want to go?"

"Your office. It's important." Your voice is steady, but your stomach churns at the thought of what you're about to do.

He leads you to his office, closing the door behind him. You sit in the chair across from his desk, trying to appear relaxed, but you know you need to keep him occupied for as long as possible.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" he asks, leaning forward with a smile that makes you want to punch him.

You improvise. "I was thinking... have you ever considered stepping out of your comfort zone? You know, doing something different with your life?"

He chuckles, a low, amused sound. "And what do you have in mind, Y/N?"

"Well," you begin, careful not to let your nerves show, "you're always so... intense. Maybe you should try relaxing, having some fun. You know, not everything has to be about work and missions."

Rumlow looks at you, visibly intrigued. "Interesting. And how do you think I should do that?"

You drag the conversation out as long as possible, talking about improbable hobbies, movies he's never seen, and even suggesting a yoga class, all while your mind stays focused on Steve. How much more time does he need?

Meanwhile, Rumlow seems to be enjoying himself. It's obvious he's too distracted by you to worry about anything else happening elsewhere.

While you continue babbling, Rumlow approaches you like a predator and caresses your cheek, smiling at you. You go abruptly silent when you feel his touch on your cheek. His hand is warm and surprisingly gentle, but his gaze is as intense as ever. "You know," he says, his voice low and playful, "you're quite entertaining when you're not arguing with me." He moves closer to you, his body only inches from yours.

You look at Brock in surprise. "Oh, really?" You whisper, hoping Steve would finish quickly. He grins, seemingly amused by your reaction. His gaze travels from your eyes down to your lips, and then back up.

"Oh, yes." He responds, lifting your chin gently. "You get all flustered, trying to prove a point, and your cheeks flush." His fingers trace your jawline, his touch feather-like. You're hyper-aware of his proximity, and you remind yourself to stay calm, to keep stalling.

"It's kind of adorable," he continues, his voice a soft rumble. "And you have my undivided attention, darling." He leans in even closer, his face just a breath away from yours. His smile is still present, but there's something different in his eyes:a hunger, a desire. Your heart quickens, and you remind yourself once more that you're doing this for Steve. Keep him busy just a little longer.

Smile. “Does the great Brock find me adorable?” you ask getting flirty, you were trying to give Steve as much time as possible. He chuckles, clearly enjoying your change of tone. "Adorable and infuriatingly cheeky," he replies, a hint of amusement in his smirk.

He's so close now, his body almost touching yours. His hand is still on your chin, his thumb brushing lightly against your jawline. "You've got quite the mouth on you," he adds, "and right now, I'm rather curious about what other uses you might have for it."

You held back so hard not to slap him and you fake a smile by biting your lip. His gaze darkens as he notices your lip between your teeth, and he moves even closer, his body pressing against yours. "Careful, darling," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "You keep biting your lip like that, and I might get a few ideas of my own." His eyes roam your face, taking in every detail, and you can't help but fidget under his intense scrutiny.

His lips hover just above yours, so close that you can feel his hot breath on your skin. "You're so tense," he observes, his body almost trapping you against the chair. "What's the matter, Y/N? Is something bothering you?" His hand slides down from your jaw to your throat, his touch both tender and possessive at the same time.

You gulp involuntarily, the feel of his hand on your throat making your heart pound faster. "No, I'm fine," you manage to say, your voice not nearly as steady as you'd like. He raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Are you sure?" he purrs, his thumb tracing a slow, lazy circle on your pulse point. "Because you're shaking."

His words send a shiver through you, and he must feel the effect they have on you, because his grip on your neck tightens ever so slightly. "And you're breathing pretty hard," he points out, his gaze locked onto yours. He presses his body against yours, his other hand gripping the armrest of the chair, effectively trapping you in his embrace.

His face is just inches from yours, his eyes a deep, dark pool of hunger. "You're usually so feisty, so strong," he murmurs, his voice a rough whisper. "But right now, you're at my mercy, all flustered and trembling." His hand at your throat moves up to cup your chin again, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. "I could do anything I want with you like this, darling."

You stopped yourself from slapping again and smiled at him placing your hands on his shoulders moving them sensually. "And do you mind this?" you whisper seductively. His expression darkens with raw lust, and he grips your thigh with his free hand. "No, I don't mind this at all." His voice is low and dangerous, his gaze still locked on yours.

His body is pressed against you, his touch possessive and demanding. "In fact," he continues, pulling your leg up against him, "I like seeing you like this. All hot and bothered, trembling at my touch."

You caress his neck to distract yourself from laughing at his statement. Steve owed you a big favor, you thought. He lets out a low, rumbling sound at your touch, clearly enjoying the sensation. "That feels nice," he murmured, his eyes half-lidded.

He presses you even closer, his body molding against yours. "You know," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, "I think I could get addicted to this." Brock slowly runs his fingers over your bare thigh, his touch light and teasing.

"Your skin feels so soft," he continues, his voice growing huskier. "So smooth and inviting." His hand inches higher, moving under your skirt, and his hips grind against yours. "I've been wanting to touch you for so long," he admits, his hand gripping your waist. "Feeling you shiver under my touch, seeing you all flushed and panting."

His lips find their way to your neck, his tongue flicking out to taste your pulse point. "You have no idea what you do to me," he whispers, his teeth grazing your skin. "No idea how badly I want to claim you." His hand beneath your skirt moves even higher, his touch burning through you. "I want to mark you, taste you, make you mine."

Close your eyes try to calm your heartbeat with little results. You hated to admit it but his words were turning you on. He chuckles, noticing your reaction. "Can't keep your cool, can you?" he teases, his hand now dangerously close to your center.

"You can't hide it, darling," he murmurs against your skin. "I can feel it, the way your heart is racing, the way you're reacting to my touch." He moves his lips to your ear, his voice a low rumble. "You like this, don't you? The feel of my hands on your body, the sound of my voice. You like being at my mercy." "But you won't give in," he continues, shifting so that his body is now fully flushed against yours. "You won't give me the satisfaction of admitting it, will you?" He nips at your earlobe, his teeth grazing your skin.

"But I know you want me." He whispers, his hand continuing its slow exploration. "You can try to deny it all you want, but I know you're just begging for it right now." He moves his lips down your neck, nipping and biting at your skin, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. "You're so stubborn, darling," he says, his voice a rough purr. "So determined to resist."

Brock shifts his body, positioning himself between your legs. "But it won't be long now. You're trembling, panting, and I can feel the heat coming off of you." He grips your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh, and he presses his body against yours, leaving no room for escape. "Just let go, darling," he whispers, his voice a low, sensual command. "Let me take you over the edge. Give yourself to me."

You gasp softly looking at him. His gaze captures yours, dark and possessive, and he smiles a slow, knowing smile. "There it is," he murmurs. "That gasp. That look in your eyes. That's what I wanted to see." He leans in, his face mere inches from yours. "Admit it, darling. You want me just as badly as I want you." He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle and almost tender. "You can fight it all you want," he continues, his voice a low rumble. "But at the end of the day, you're mine."

His hips grind against yours, his arousal pressing against you. "And I'm going to make you mine, darling. I'm going to make you beg for it." He's practically pinning you to the chair, his body pressed against yours, his hands everywhere. "I'm going to show you pleasure you've never even imagined before," he promises, his voice rough and sensual. "I'm going to make you scream my name, darling."

“Brock” you try to stop him but your tone wasn’t very confident, your mind was foggy. He growls, the sound low and possessive. "Say it again," he demands, his body pressing even harder against you. "Say my name again, darling."

You shiver at his command, your body responding to his touch in ways you can't control. "Brock," you repeat, your voice a hoarse whisper. He grins, clearly pleased with your response. "That's right," he says, his lips on your neck again. "I want to hear you say it, darling. I want to hear you begging for me."

He begins to kiss and nibble at your neck, leaving hot, wet trails on your skin. "No more fighting, no more resisting," he murmurs, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "Just give in, darling. Give in to me." You give in, moaning softly as you cling to him.

He growls again, the sound even more primal and possessive than before. "That's it, darling," he says, his hands roaming your body. "I want to hear those beautiful sounds coming from your lips." Brock lifts you up effortlessly, carrying you over to the nearby couch and laying you down on it, his body covering yours. "You're mine now," he whispers, gazing down at you hungrily. "All mine."

[llamagoddessofficial]

Has anyone requested Fae Dust’s datemate HCs yet? If not, can we have some?

I also saw @owl-bones' Dust art, anon. And I very much agree its sexy

Don't think I need to tell you that he's hard to read

Get used to having no clue how he really feels.

Some wonder why he doesn't speak, when tricksy words are what the fae are known for. But in a world where every word is a trap, there's great power in not speaking at all.

... Also means it feels like there's never any pressure with Dust. You can relax around him. Blurt whatever you like, because he says barely anything in return.

When he likes you, you won't know how you know, but you'll just... know. You'll get a feeling you're being quietly appreciated. You'll get a feeling you're the only person in the room he can stand. He keeps looking at you like you and him are in on a joke no one else understands.

He'll be silent for hours, only to stun everyone in the room by chuckling at something you said.

He frequently looks your way, even if you can't see his eyelights you can tell you're being watched, and when you can see his eyelights they get visibly wider and softer.

Normally, during the rare occasions when Nightmare hosts balls or parties, Dust immediately finds some way to escape. But if you're present, he'll stay. Might even ask you to dance.

(By 'ask', I mean just gently take your hand and wordlessly lead you into it, the other skeletons too gobsmacked at his boldness to intervene)

There's a few clearer signs he likes you. He'll perform random acts of politeness for you, like holding doors and passing you things you can't reach, a big fucking deal considering you didn't ask first. He'll sit by your side, he'll stand close to you even if you're not facing one another. If you're having a conversation with another fae he looms nearby... you might mistake it for jealousy, but really, he's making it 100% clear to whoever you're talking to that if they trick you or take something of yours he's going to ensure it's returned.

..... A little jealousy too, though.

He disappears for several days at a time, seemingly out of nowhere. No one's sure what he does - rumours swirl that he goes out to do Nightmare's dirty work. The first thing he always does when he comes back is give you a small affectionate touch.

He spends a lot of time in Nightmare's library. You might find him there, if you wander that way. You can tell he appreciates the company because he doesn't leave when you show up.

You find him smoking outside, you ask for a puff of his cigarette. He takes a slow drag, then leans in and kisses you.

He'll take his hood down around you.

When he does eventually speak, you'll find that the whole time he's known you, he's been quietly making a dedicated effort to learn about the things important to you. He's very perceptive. He'll learn all about your interests, your hobbies, the things you could talk about forever... if you know another language he'll familiarise himself with the basics, if you like art he'll pick up a pencil, if you like history his satchel will be heavy with scrolls and books he's snatched from Nightmare's library for you.

It's funny how so few words can make you feel so appreciated.

He's quite the charmer, when he wants to be.

[elodieunderglass]

I just wanted to say, i'm SO READY to buy the jockey-romcom-family-drama-horse-sad-story book when it comes out, you have no idea.

(In reference to Killie the Jockey OC and his complicated little life)

Well, thank you so much! I called that incredibly kind and supportive of you, because you are by no means obligated, and I truly appreciate your encouragement.

I’m a new believer that when you are seized by a radiant alien urge to create, then you have been touched by something beautiful and genuine and true, and that you should graciously accept the gift, and follow it where it brings you. That’s why I keep finding myself writing fanfiction, despite constantly saying that I’m Not Sure How Important It Is As A Hobby (I Need To Weed The Allotment Instead). Sometimes you get possessed by an idea, and enter that spirit of flow and power, and wake up a few hours later having written the story - you know how that is? I increasingly believe that you have to say YES to this, and follow it where it’s going, even if it seems somewhere pointless or silly, and you can’t immediately see how it’s a better use of your time than weeding your actual material allotment. But I’ve been thinking about it since the summer, and now I think that being this kind of Possessed is a bit of a gift, and if you take it, and then give it to others in the spirit that you received it - freely, and with generosity and courage, and with no more expectation of reward than a wild animal expects another sunset - then you get more gifts. So we should do this!!

That being said, I’ve got no damned idea how to write a book.

Here’s what I think is probably involved:

Finish my two existing WIPs and the outstanding fundraising work for the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund

Have fun with Killie asks for now, because they are FUN and a GIFT

Do my damndest and best in my free time to turn a whole folder of years-old Killie nonsense into three novellas that are also one book.

Hopefully have some friends willing to do this with me, ideally as parallel play with their own tasks, so we can throw eggs at each other

Hire and pay an editor who is brave and true, and who knows how to write a book.

Hire and pay sensitivity readers who are brave and true, so that Jewish and Irish characters remain brave and true: also ideally someone who knows more than me about horse racing, so that nobody forgets about the blood-soaked Problematic Sport.

Work out some self-publishing mechanism by which I don’t have to care about Marketing, or the fact that sad-drama-romcom-messy-sports-fantasy isn’t a marketing genre. Or that people who see that there’s a gay relationship might be expecting Romance.

I will simply be saying HERE IS A GHASTLY LITTLE MAN, BEING TRAMPLED BY 20-30 BUSINESS HORSES. take it or leave it

Include the Killie comics in the books.

Take advice from cleverer people on correct Authorial Behavior, which I believe to be things like being very cool and distant about your work on social media. (Will have to check this.)

Fantasy stretch goal: make enough money from the book to earn back what I paid the editor and sensitivity readers (unlikely but always possible)

Sounds like a fun project for spring/summer if I scramble!

I will be very brave and do this, as a promise and a gift and a privilege.

I would love it if you would be brave with me this year and do something similar too.

[sheerfreesia007]

Little Book of Love

Pairing: Seungmin x Reader

Word count: 2,555

Content warnings: Fluff

Summary: Seungmin enjoys his journaling time and loves the fact that he’s found a close friend that enjoys it just as much as he does. But what happens when he realizes that you’ve got two different types of journals and won’t show him what you write about? 

The quiet chirping of some birds in the nearby tree to his balcony soothes Seungmin as he sits at the table lazily writing about his day and the things he found important for him to remember in his journal. The sun was still high enough in the sky to give him enough light to be able to write and he found himself gently closing his eyes as he listened to the quiet busy noises of everything around him. He smiled softly as he heard the scritching of your own pen against paper before he turned his head to look at you. You were sitting curled up in a chair not far from his, your knee drawn up to your chest with your own journal resting on your knee while you quickly wrote about your own day. He sat there soaking in the peace between the two of you as he watched your pen move swiftly across the page. He loved that he was able to share this hobby with you and you enjoyed it almost as much as him, it was something he had come to cherish about your friendship. The way the two of you were able to just exist in the quiet as you wrote your thoughts on how life was going, it was something that he wasn’t able to find with anyone else and he knew it was special with you.

Just as he was about to open his mouth and ask you what you were writing so swiftly about, he watched in surprise as you shut the journal and slipped it into your backpack before pulling out a separate journal and begin writing slower in it almost as if you didn’t feel rushed to write in this journal as opposed to your other one. He watched as your eyes darted around the page and a soft smile slipped onto your lips pulling the corners up into something so pretty. Flinching at his thoughts he quickly shook his head before nonchalantly speaking.

“I didn’t know you had two journals.” he said softly and your head whipped up to stare at him wide eyed before you ducked your head in embarrassment. He tilted his head to the side curiously at your reaction and he wondered what the other journal was for and why would you need two journals.

“Oh yeah, one is my regular journal for my day to day stuff and the other one is special.” you tell him cryptically and he frowned softly as his eyes focused shrewdly on you. “And no, I won’t be telling you what it’s for. So don’t ask.” you tell him primly already knowing that he’ll ask you about it. He huffs softly at you before pouting as he widens his eyes and you laugh loudly at his antics. “Stop with the puppy eyes. You know it doesn't work on me.” you told him dismissively before turning back to your journal and continuing to write in it.

“Then can I see what you write in your regular journal?” he asked curiously, hoping that you’d let him but ultimately knowing that you wouldn’t. Your journal was private and sacred to you just like his was to him, you never asked to see his journal and until now he never asked to see yours. But the fact that you had two separate journals made him desperate to know what you wrote about that required two.

“No.” you scoffed offendedly and he quickly raised his hands trying to placate you. He knew he overstepped as your eyebrows furrowed darkly over your eyes.

“Sorry, just a shot in the dark.” he said quickly and you huffed at him. “I know, I know. I shouldn’t have asked. But I want to know why you have two journals.” he said imploringly as he stared at you.

“Get it out of your head. Just forget you saw it.” you told him with a shake of your head before you returned back to writing in your journal Seungmin leaned back in his chair and continued to watch you before he heard your alarm start to ring and he frowned softly knowing that you would have to leave now. You finished up your last thought before gently shutting your journal and slipping it into your backpack. Standing from your chair you stretch your arms out to either side of your body and arc your back groaning softly when you hear it pop. Seungmin stands also knowing that he won’t be able to keep you here tonight, you’ve got too much going on tomorrow and you have an early morning tomorrow.

You smile warmly up at him causing him to roll his eyes at you before opening his arms to you. You chuckle softly and quickly step up to him wrapping your arms around his waist as you rest your face against his chest. Seungmin wraps his arms around your shoulder before squeezing you tightly making you cry out in surprise and delight. You try to struggle against him but he chuckles darkly into your ear as his arms keep you held close to him.

”Nope, you wanted this so accept your fate.” He said amused as you tried again to struggle out of his hold. When you find that he won’t let you go you melt against him smiling and Seungmin smiles as well as he loosens his hold slightly before resting his head on top of yours. He wonders if you feel as light and happy as he does in this very moment as he gently closes his eyes listening to the chirping birds as he hugs you close before he has to say goodbye.

*-*-*-*

Over the next couple of months whenever you and Seungmin hang out no matter what the two of you wind up doing the hang outs always end the same. You both sit together in peaceful silence while you both journal about your days. And he always notices the different journals, you try to hide them from him but he notices one has a deep navy blue cover that’s dotted with gold flecks almost like stars in the night sky and the other one is a simple brown leather bound journal that seems to have been used so often the leather is buttery soft and flexible. He thinks the brown one is your regular journal and the navy blue is the special one used for a different purpose but he doesn’t know for sure. He wants to ask again why you would need two journals but he’s learned after the first time not to ask again.

It’s the week in between his birthday and Jisung and Felix’s birthdays, he knows the guys are planning a special birthday dinner for him, Jisung and Felix to celebrate all together this year since all of their schedules are all over the place and they don’t have many overlapping days. He’s already asked Chan if it would be alright to invite you as well as his guest and the boys all teased him heartily for wanting to invite you, but Felix had come to his rescue and said he’d also like to invite you, shutting the boys up as they all agreed.

As he checked his outfit once more in the mirror he sighed softly, feeling as if the black button up shirt didn’t sit well on his shoulders. Felix walked past his open bedroom door and halted in his steps when he spotted Seungmin standing in front of his mirror frowning. Seungmin watched him through the mirror as he came to lean against his doorway and cross his arms over his chest as he eyed Seungmin critically.

“You know she’ll love whatever you wear. She doesn’t care about the clothes, she cares about you.” Felix said knowingly as he smirked softly as Seungmin as the man blushed softly.

“It doesn’t feel right.” Seungmin admitted and Felix shook his head before he stepped into Seungmin’s bedroom and over to stand in front of the worried man. He reached up and popped the top two buttons and laid the fabric out on his chest so that it hung looser at the top showing off some skin.

“Try that, it won’t feel as strangling.” Felix suggested as he patted Seungmin on the chest a few times. “But you have nothing to worry about. I promise.” Felix said confidently and Seungmin sighed softly before nodding his head. He knew he was being silly but something felt different about tonight and he couldn’t put his finger on it. There was something in the air, some sort of tension or excitement.

The car ride to the restaurant was fun, all of them had piled into the car and they were all being their normal loud crazy selves as Seungmin checked his cell phone for any text messages from you. You had let him know when you had gotten out of work and had told you’d get ready quickly before meeting them all there but ever since that text he hadn’t received anything else from you. Suddenly feeling a weight against his side Seungmin looked up into the warm sparkling eyes of Chan who had a wide knowing grin on his face.

“Is she on her way?” he asked softly and Seungmin frowned softly before shrugging his shoulders.

“How do you know I’m checking for her messages?” Seungmin asked petulantly and Chan scoffed softly while his grin widened on his face.

“C’mon Seungminnie, we all know you’ll be checking for her messages until she gets there.” Chan teased softly and Seungmin rolled his eyes at him before huffing quietly. Just then his phone dinged and he quickly looked down at his phone to see your text come through making the tight feeling in his chest relax slowly. On my way birthday boy! I can’t wait to see you!

“She’s on her way.” Seungmin said softly and Chan grinned widely before nodding his head at him.

“Good, I’m glad.” Chan responded before patting Seungmin’s knee.

*-*-*-*

The restaurant has a warm cozy feeling to it as they are led to the back into a large room where a long table is set up for all of them to sit and eat at. Seungmin walks in and gets settled in a chair halfway down the table on one side, Jeongin takes the seat next to him and then Seungmin sets his jacket on the other chair next to him just as Changbin is walking over towards him.

“Yah! What is this saving seats?” he asks loudly and Seungmin blushes lightly as everyone turns to him at Changbin’s loud words.

“Don’t be jealous Changbin, it’s not a good look for you.” your voice rings out loud enough for everyone to hear and Seungmin perks up with happiness when he whips his head to watch you walk in. You quickly greet Jisung and Felix, giving them each a quick hug wishing them a happy birthday before handing them small gift bags. You then turn and walk proudly over to Seungmin and envelope him in a tight warm hug that he melts into happily. When you pull away you present him with a slightly larger gift bag and an eager smile. “Happy birthday Seung” you tell him happily as he takes the bag from you.

“Thank you.” he gushes softly as a blush dusts his cheeks.

The dinner is lively and such a warm celebration of the birthday boys that Seungmin finds himself losing himself in the camaraderie and the happy feeling of having everyone around to celebrate him, Jisung and Felix. Once dinner is finished and everyone is relaxed, full and happy he turns to you and finds you laughing at something Hyunjin is telling you from across the table. He sits there silently just watching you before her jerks in his seat when he feels your hand grab his under the table, another blush dusting his cheeks lightly.

“Alright, so I think it’s time for the birthday boys to blow out their candles and open their gifts!” Chan calls out happily as everyone cheers in agreement. Three small cakes are brought out and everyone sings a cheerful Happy Birthday to them all while Seungmin hears you sing his name last as you lean into his side happily. Once the cake is divided and handed out he then reaches down to the floor to grab your gift bag, he peers into it and when he spots the journal inside he whips his head up to stare at you wide eyed as you smirk softly at him.

He gently pulls out the navy blue journal with the gold flecks and looks at you surprised and shocked. The boys all glance at him curiously due to his reaction to your gift. Changbin even leans over to ask you quietly what’s with the notebook. It’s your special journal. Frowning softly, Seungmin wonders why you were gifting it to him before he’s suddenly opening it with eagerness, dying to know what it was you have been writing inside of it. On the inside page are the words Things I wish I had the courage to say to your face. He tilts his head to the side before slowly turning the page and his breath is instantly stolen from him as his eyes dart around the page avidly. Filling the page are free formed loving, funny and sweet thoughts that you’ve had about him in the last year of your friendship. As his eyes travel over the words and his hands turn the pages he can feel his heart start to skip beats as he realizes that he’s reading exactly how your feelings developed for him.

Nobody is perfect, but you’re pretty darn close, sticks out to him and he grins wildly at the words written there. I can’t believe how not sick of you I am, makes his chuckle softly to himself before his eyes land on another thought you’ve had about him. I absolutely adore you and can’t imagine my life without you in it. I wish you could see yourself as I see you and I wish I could tell you this to your stupidly handsome face. 

When he looks up at you, your face is a pretty blushing mess as your eyes are downcast towards the table, he’s shocked to his absolute core that you could have these types of feelings for him. Not to mention finding the courage to give him a notebook full of these thoughts and feelings. His heart races in his chest as his hand reaches over towards you and cups your face gently guiding you to look at him. He sucks in a sharp breath when your eyes stare at him with wariness shining through.

“I love you too.” he whispers to you as he stares into your eyes, finding joy blossoming in his chest when he sees your eyes fill with love and adoration for him before he leans forward and presses his lips to yours sweetly. Cheers rise around the table as Jeongin makes a comment of bewilderment about what Seungmin thinks he’s doing. “I will cherish this gift for years. May even tell our future kids about how their Mom made the first move.” he says cheekily and you grin widely at him before kissing him once more.

SKZ Taglist: @intartaruginha, @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin, @simpforleeknaur, @inlovewithstraykids

[kurokawaia]

❛ Crush ❜

Kurosaki Ichigo X Reader

| SFW | REQUEST? Yes | -> Headcannons

REQUEST; @r333y - Hi I saw your requests were open and I thought I would request some bleach headcanons (or anything really) if that's ok. Would you mind writing ichigo and/or ulquiorra (separately if you do both) having a crush on gn reader? Like how would he develop it, how would he act around the reader or how would he confess. Just some fluff for our boys. Thank you for considering, good day/night. ♡

a::note; i don't usually write for a 'gn' reader but i will try my best as i did state in my request rules that i only write for fem reader:3

M.LIST | BLEACH M.LIST |

How would Ichigo develop a crush?

I personally think that Ichigo would develop a crush on you regarding your abilities and strengths. Ichigo does meet important characters during conflicts and the start of his interest in you would be when you demonstrate your skill. Another one could be that you had a trait that stuck out to him, like there was something about you that didn't make sense to him, or that he wanted to know more about why you do the things that you do. I feel like mostly it would be how you fight, he feels interested in what you do and would like to know more about you because you are just so different to him.

Ichigo could see you in a vulnerable state, which could cause you to reveal your personal struggles. This reveals depth between your growing relationship and in turn, makes Ichigo feel more connected to you as you trust him.

Then it would lead to the both of you spending time with each other outside the battle field, experiencing everyday moments that show different sides of your personalities and discovering any shared interests or hobbies.

But there is one thing that I feel strongly about. I personally feel that Ichigo would need to have developed a crush on you specifically if he knows that you have the ability to look after yourself in battle. He wishes and craves that connection. Don't get me wrong, it's nice for him to save you and vise versa, but he needs to know that no matter what happens he will know that you are okay.

How would Ichigo act around the you?

To put it more precisely, when around that person, Ichigo will become a little edgy and out of his place. He may forget what he is about to say or may become a little clumsy. Although generally composed, Ichigo might blush or get flushed on his face if someone tries to tease him about his feelings when you are around. Ichigo will be quieter than usual but would glance your way, only to look hurriedly if you catch him looking.

And, I guess, Ichigo would detail an awful lot in your likes and dislikes, habits, and small details like that. But with Ichigo, I believe he's naturally overprotective, and of course, like I said before, he would have to trust in you that you could handle the situations you would get into because his protectiveness level would just shoot up real high. He'd be so concerned for you, worried for your safety and well-being, much such as to be overprotective. More of an Ichigo to care about your safety, maybe saying, "You need to be more careful! I can't always watch your back," then frowning at you.

Ichigo would just pretend to be irritable or impatient if he found you laughing with someone else, though he wouldn't tell you he's jealous.

He drives out of his way to do the kind of things that you do, whether that is something tough or easy for you, just being there when needed. Ichigo would offer to stay up late to help them understand anything they need help with. He would even sense it when you would feel low or stressed, and at that point, he would actually go out of his way to be someone who could comfort you, lend a patient ear, or show a shoulder to cry on. Even in small ways, like surprising them with your favorite snack or remembering to check in on them after a tough day, the ways Ichigo showed to care were consistent. His kindness will be real and sincere; this will convey that he has started caring more and wants you to be happy and supported.

How would he confess?

Ichigo would make sure that you two are alone when he confesses. He would probably spend a bit of time building up the courage, possibly starting the conversation with casual topics before diving into his feelings. He might struggle a bit but would try to explain what he feels :(( the poor baby.

You had noticed that Ichigo was behaving exceptionally differently with you these days, from his usual self, sometimes swapping his confidence for an insecurity that seemed awkwardly out of place. It was in little things: glances he took at her when he thought she isn't looking and the softening of his voice in speaking to her. Something in him changed, but he still tried to act as usual.

You could see that he had been wound up about something, and you kept your peace for him to talk when he would come around to it. After an ultra-long silence, finally, Ichigo took one great breath, as if he was steeling himself for what he was about to say. "You know," he started, extraordinarily reticent for being him, "lately, I've been thinking a lot—some thoughts about us, you know. You." He darted a glance at you in between, looking away afterward; the tips of his ears colored red. "I was never good with words, and this sounds. this is more difficult than anything I have fought."

The rush of emotions swirling in you had your heart racing. Ichigo pushed on, his voice gaining a bit in confidence. "I've always admired your strength, the way you carry yourself. But it's more than that. When I'm with you.I feel different. Better, somehow. You make me want to be better."

He turned entirely to face her, and his brown eyes were earnest and heartfelt. "I like you more than a friend. I don't know how to say it perfectly and I must spiral this somehow, but I had to tell you. I like you—you mean more to me than I can say, and I want to be there for you in any way I can."

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

M.LIST | BLEACH M.LIST |

ulquiorra one coming soon:3

[mandalhoerian]

I love your analysis on Rafayel, I thought there was something wrong with me not understanding his card! If it's not too much to ask, can you break down his final dialogue? I don't get his point. why is he suddenly bringing up love when this has been about art? Isn't he saying that the love he feels is also bringing him pain, isn't this a bad thing😅 Is it just me 😅 I feel crazy... You can ignore this if you want no hard feelings

the said analysis on intertidal zone for people who haven't seen it!

first of all, please don't be hard on yourself for not understanding, you're okay! this was me too. i got you!

"i once stubbornly believed only pain could bring me inspiration. I traveled far and wide in search of it. Pain that inspires me, I mean. Like a sea that's about to dry up. The art of creation is part of my life. You made me realize love and art are so alike. Even if they don't complete me but burn me instead, I still want them with every fiber of my being."

but before i can explain this fully, I want to go take a few steps back and go into what he previously revealed. I swear it makes sense to start from the beginning, trust me. spoiler alert, I've discovered something you guys. (@pasdenomadonner you can put this on reddit too if you'd like!!)

"actually i was here last time for an exhibit and i found myself in the same situation."

this could refer to either his fever, or his lack of inspiration, or both. the next line confirms that he was going through creative block, though -> "as far as i know, this is the longest time my mind's been like a blank sheet of paper."

and mc says, "you mean you can't draw?"

I totally missed this before & thought it was a tangent that came out of nowhere. But what Rafayel did is that, without words, showing her that he was in fact able to fix his inspiration issue the last time. This isn't a random reveal that the ocean and desert painting belonged to him all this time. It says that his trip to here fixed his creative block and the piece he made from the inspiration he got from Aridum made it to the memorial hall. He's saying, "No no, I could draw."

He's come here again for guaranteed inspiration hit. He's basically saying his trip here didn't work this time around and this isn't doing anything for him, despite the tragedy all around him.

Do you know what this means? STAY WITH ME NOW, STAY WITH ME.

because this ties DIRECTLY to him saying "i stubbornly believed only pain could give me inspiration" -- so, if only pain gives him inspiration, why can't he draw now? why is his mind blank? Is he not getting his inspiration from pain anymore? What will he do now, then? THAT'S what he's struggling with.

NOW we can dive into the rest of the final dialogue.

1. “The art of creation is part of my life.”

This line sets the stage. Rafayel isn’t just saying art is important to him, it’s essential. Not a hobby. Art isn’t just a thing he does, it’s who he is.

What he’s really saying here is: “Art is a core part of my identity. Without it, I’m not me.”

2. “You made me realize love and art are so alike.”

Here’s the pivot. It's so confusing at first glance because you expect him to elaborate in "What way?" But I believe Rafayel is setting the stage to make a direct comparison between art--this thing he just declared essential to his life--and love not just by commenting on their similarities but by implying that love (MC) is just as essential as art.

Think about what this means for someone like Rafayel:

Art has always been his way of processing the world, expressing himself, and finding meaning. It’s his lifeline.

By comparing love to art, he’s saying that MC has brought something into his life that feels equally vital, equally irreplaceable.

He’s realizing that MC, like art, isn’t just something that happens to him--it’s something he needs.

3. “Even if they don’t complete me but burn me instead...”

This is where it gets personal and raw. Rafayel doesn’t see art or love as things that “fix” him or make him whole. Instead, he sees them as forces that challenge him, consume him, and demand something from him.

“Burn me instead”: The idea of burning here isn’t necessarily negative, perhaps. It’s could be about intensity and being consuming. Both art and love push Rafayel to his limits, force him to confront himself, and sometimes hurt him in the process. But he’s okay with that. The burn isn’t a deterrent--it’s a part of what makes these things so meaningful to him.

In essence, he’s saying: Even if art and love aren’t easy, even if they don’t make me feel whole or safe, I still want them. I still need them.

4. “I still want them with every fiber of my being.”

This line drives the point home, circling back to how he said they were "alike". Rafayel isn’t just tolerating the burn--he’s choosing it. He wants art and love, not because they’re perfect or painless, but because they’re what give his life meaning. Remember his "Addictive Pain" anectode? I don't think he dislikes this kind of "pain" but MC isn't in a place to understand what he means yet is my takeaway.

YEAH?. YEAH. I'M DOING LAPS IN MY ROOM HE'S SO. HE'S SOOOOOO. AND I'M SO SLOW, I DIDN'T GET ALL OF UNTIL LATER, LIKE HOW THE LAST TIME HE WAS ABLE TO BE INSPIRED BY ARIDUM DURING CREATIVE BLOCK BUT NOT ANYMORE. "Why is he bringing up love all of a sudden. Weren't we just talking about art?" was such a raw connection he was trying to pull and it flew right over my head.

And understanding the burning thing quite literally I imagine, LIKE I WAS DOING, MC is like

he's such a tortured artist

anyway. I hope I was able to help, anon. It's thanks to you I went in and discovered these new things. Why is it always Rafayel. I feel like local tumblrina discovering media literacy for the first time, I swear I'm good at consuming media it's him making things difficult (even though me personally I've made my peace with having a peanut for a brain that runs on brainrot)

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request the Delico daddies with a s/o who makes toys for the kids?

It was around lunch time when [Y/N] arrived for an unexpected, but not unwelcome, visit to the nursery. Dali was always happy to see them. No matter the circumstances.

He excused himself to go check on their meal, then after Dali came back into the nursery to check on his sons. Of course, [Y/N] was there, looking after them in his stead. Along with a new guest to their little enclave. “Who is this then?”

Raphael looked up from his new, crochet bear at his father. “[Y/N] said they made it for me.”

“They did, did they?”

He looked over to his partner who smiled bashfully. “Well, I had the extra yarn.”

“Of course.” Dali replied knowingly. Touched that they would make something, by hand, for his son. “He will need a name though. What shall we name him?”

“Hmmm…Bernard?”

“I think you mean Bear-nard.” And Dali laughed at his own joke.

“Look Papa look! My doll has a lace dress just like me!”

“Mine has a pretty hat. Papa, can you get a hat like this for me?”

“Eh..?? Didn’t you just get a present Elena?” Henrique reminded his daughter as the girls gushed over their new dolls.

One of the nice things about seeing one of the premier doll makers in the city, was that the girls got all the new doll designs before anyone else. Sometimes Henrique thought they got more out of his relationship than him. But when he looked over at [Y/N], in awe of their beauty and the way they beamed when the girls got so excited over their new creations, he knew that wasn’t true at all.

“I actually designed this hat from one my friend did for her new couture line. Shall I see if she can make you one?”

The girls, of course, squeal for joy. Loud enough to pierce Henrique’s ears. “You’re spoiling them….”

“I know,” [Y/N confessed, “but I can’t help it.”

“I know what you mean.” He agreed, seeing their excited faces. “You girls will have to be extra good until you get your hats though. No funny business from here on out.”

“Ok!” They chime together while fussing with their dolls. Like perfect little dolls themselves.

“I have a gift for Theodore.” Dino arched a brow at [Y/N]’s announcement over tea. “I would like to give it to him after dinner.”

Dino sighed. He cared for [Y/N] but their professional hobby in making children’s toys was just…odd to him. What need did children have for toys when there were perfectly good books around? “Theodore does not need toys. He needs things that will stimulate his mind.”

“I agree. That’s why I made him this.” A small box, seemingly out of nowhere, was then placed on the table. Different woods aligned in an intricate pattern. “It’s a puzzle box.”

‘A puzzle box? Interesting.’ Dino thought as he moved to inspect it.

“The goal is to get all the same shades on the same sides. It’s a manner of mathematics, memory, and dexterity to get it to align properly.” Dino scoffed at [Y/N]’s explanation. How hard could it be? “So, may I give it to him?”

His fingers play with the shape and moving pieces. Getting them to move with ease and slot into their new spaces. “Hmmm…I suppose.” This did seem challenging, and any Classico would thrive on a challenge.

By the time dinner came around Dino and the puzzle box could not be found. Both were locked in his office. His fingers gripping the toy so tight it might shatter. “How do you solve this damn thing?!”

The clock in Gerhard’s office struck 9 o’clock and he put down his evening scotch to get ready for bed.

He felt it was important to get a goodnight sleep. In order to keep a sharp mind and foster good health. A virtue he hoped to instill in his son.

As he walked down the hall, Gerhard heard noises coming from his son’s room. Nothing alarming, but louder than the usual quiet of the house. When he got to the door he opened it, just in time to have a small toy cannonball hit him in the chest. “What’s all this noise?!”

Angelico sunk back into himself, a fretful look on his face as he looked at his father. Not sure what to say. “Don’t blame us.” [Y/N] answered in his stead from their place on the floor. “You’re the one that walked directly into our enemy line of fire. Friendly fire is almost a given at that point.”

Gerhard grumbled at them and looked at the toy soldiers all over the floor. “What is all this?”

“[Y-Y/N] got them for me father.” Angelico answered.

“Yeah. And you’re scuffing up my paint job with those heels.”

He looked down to see he had accidentally stepped on one of the toy soldiers; too distracted by projectiles to notice his mistake. Luckily it wasn’t broken. “Well then, I’ll leave you to it.”

“You could stay you know.” [Y/N] offered. Starting to move the left flank up to their makeshift river. “We could use someone for the rear platoon.”

Gerhard looked at Angelico, who looked up at him so hopefully that his hands nearly trembled. And Gerhard gulped. “Well…just for a little while. Then you have to go to bed. And clean this up.”

His son grinned but nodded eagerly before moving his soldiers as well. Gerhard knelt down next to [Y/N] and moved a couple of pieces in an effort to play as well.

By the clock struck 11 o’clock, the three of them had constructed a navy battle as well out of paper boats, and no one near ready for bed.

[cosycryptid]

Preparing for Battle - Part 3

Steve goes to Eddie's trailer. Also on A03: [Here] Part: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

“So,” Robin says from the staff room doorway the second Eddie disappears. “You wanna explain, or should I start guessing?”

“Explain what, Buckley?” Steve replies, already sounding defensive.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Robin says, stepping into the room. “Maybe the fact that I just watched Eddie Munson fawn over you for five straight minutes, and not only did you not stop him, you asked me to leave so you could be alone with him.”

“He did not fawn over me,” Steve scoffs.

Robin rolls her eyes and launches into a dramatic reenactment, pitching her voice to mimic them both:

“Oh my God, Eddie. You came back.” “You asked me to, Steve. How could I deny you anything? Also, have I ever told you your hair is gorgeous?” “No, Eddie. Your hair is gorgeous.” “Steve, stop it, you’re making me blush.” “You know how pretty you are, Munson. You stop it. Okay Robin, you’re gonna have to give us a moment. Alone.”

She finishes with a smug look; arms crossed like a lawyer resting her case.

Steve stares at her, unimpressed. “You seriously need a hobby.”

Robin shrugs. “I have one. It’s watching you spiral. Now, care to plead your case?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Steve mutters. “You majorly embellished.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Robin reaches for the post-it note by the till and holds it up like it’s Exhibit A. “Then what’s this? If I still had the scoreboard, this would be your first tally under ‘You Rule.’”

Steve snatches the note and tucks it into his pocket. “It’s just his number. We’re hanging out Thursday. He wants help with something he’s working on.”

Robin raises an eyebrow.

“I said yes because…” Steve hesitates, then sighs. “Because I’m hoping he’ll see I’m not a total loser now. And maybe we can be friends. I haven’t had a guy friend my age in a long time, Rob. And I don’t think I’ve ever had one who wasn’t kind of an asshole.”

Robin’s expression softens. “Well, that’s heartbreakingly honest.”

“Yeah, well. Don’t get used to it.”

“You don’t even know Eddie Munson that well,” Robin points out. “Can we really be sure he’s not an asshole?”

“Dustin likes him,” Steve says. “Don’t ever tell him I said this—he does not need the ego boost—but I trust the kid’s judgment. Sometimes. About some things. If he says Eddie’s cool, that’s a point in his favor.” Steve shrugs. “Besides, he seemed nice enough just now.”

“Oh, he seemed very nice,” Robin says with a smirk—but it fades when she sees the look on Steve’s face. “This is really important to you, isn’t it?” she asks, softer now.

Steve nods. “Yeah. I think so. I don’t know why, but... yeah. Weirdly enough.”

Robin studies him for a beat, then sighs. “Okay. I’ll lay off. It’s no fun if the teasing actually hurts your feelings.”

Steve gives her a grateful look.

“And listen,” she adds, “if Munson ever hurts your feelings—even by accident—you tell me right away. I will have words for him. Sharp, pointy ones.”

“Wow, Robin. That’s terrifying,” Steve says, rolling his eyes affectionately.

“Shut up and let me defend your honor,” she replies, sticking her tongue out at him.

---------------------------

Somehow—by some absolute miracle—Steve might actually be about to have a male friend who isn’t years his junior.

He knocks on the door to Eddie’s trailer at 5 p.m. sharp. There’s the sound of quick footsteps, a bit of muffled mumbling, and then the door swings open with a dramatic flourish. Eddie stands there, bowing low in the warm light spilling out behind him. He’s wearing pajama bottoms and a band t-shirt, and his hair looks soft, like it’s been freshly washed and towel dried.

Steve wonders what it would feel like under his fingers, then mentally slaps himself for being weird and staring. Again.

“Good evening, Sir Steve,” Eddie says grandly. “Welcome to my humble abode. Feel free to keep your shoes on or leave them at the door. The world is your oyster.”

“So, it’s ‘Sir Steve’ now?” Steve grins, stepping inside and immediately removing his shoes—etiquette drilled into him since before he could walk. Eddie closes the door behind him and heads toward the kitchen.

“Felt more fitting,” Eddie calls over his shoulder. “Seeing as you’ll be Corroded Coffin’s knight in shining armor if you agree to help us.” He grabs two glasses. “Want anything to drink?”

“I like it a lot more than ‘King Steve,’ that’s for sure,” Steve replies. “Water’s fine.”

“Our finest tap water, coming right up,” Eddie says with a smirk. “Only the best for former royalty.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but the smile doesn’t leave his face as he takes in the space around him. It’s like stepping into another world, one completely unlike the open-plan, perfectly curated showrooms of the Harrington house. There’s clutter everywhere, and the small table in front of the couch is covered in enough coffee rings to make his mother faint on sight.

But it’s cozy. Lived in. Loved.

And that’s something Steve’s never been able to say about his own home.

Here, he feels like he can breathe. Like he doesn’t have to worry about breaking something just by existing too close to it. His house may have two stories and a pool, but it doesn’t have a fraction of the warmth this place holds in every corner.

Steve really, really likes it here.

Eddie clears his throat and hands Steve a glass. “It’s probably not much to look at compared to your place, but it works for me and my uncle Wayne.”

“No, I like this way better than my place,” Steve says honestly. “It feels like people actually live here. It’s nice.” He glances around. “Also, the mug collection? Really cool.”

“Please don’t let Wayne hear you say that,” Eddie groans. “He can and will talk your ear off for four hours straight about the origin story of each one if you give him the chance.”

Steve huffs a laugh. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he says, and he means it.

He can’t imagine what it’s like to have a parental figure who talks about anything other than work or expectations. If someone asked, Steve isn’t sure he could name a single fact about his father that doesn’t involve his job. The idea of someone like Wayne—someone who wants to share his interests, who wants to be known—feels almost unreal.

Eddie’s eyes widen slightly, but then the corner of his mouth lifts into a small, surprised smile.

“Well then,” he says, voice lighter, “it’s a good thing he’s working tonight. I can’t have someone else stealing your valuable time and attention when we’ve got important work to do.”

He leans into Steve’s space with a casual grin, like it’s nothing. But it isn’t nothing—not to Steve. A familiar rush of adrenaline sparks in his chest. Eddie leans in even closer, and Steve’s eyes, without permission, zero in on his mouth.

“Follow me, Big Boy,” Eddie says, patting Steve on the shoulder before turning and walking away.

It takes Steve a few seconds to snap out of it. He’s still staring at the spot Eddie just vacated, the words Big Boy echoing in his ears like a fire alarm. His brows furrow. He shakes his head, like that’ll help.

“Uh, yeah. Sure,” he says blankly, forcing his feet to move—clumsy in a way he never usually is.

--------------------------

Big Boy? Where the hell had that come from? What the fuck was Eddie thinking?

He’d known this was probably a bad idea the second the words “You should come over” left his mouth at Family Video. The plan had been innocent enough. He wanted to give Steve a chance to get comfortable singing in front of someone before throwing him to the wolves. And by wolves, he meant his three brutally honest bandmates, who could sniff out nerves like sharks scenting blood in the water.

What hadn’t occurred to him—until it was far too late—was that this meant Steve would be in his trailer. Alone. With him. For hours.

Steve, who had recently proven to be surprisingly chill about Eddie’s teasing. Steve, who was dangerously easy to talk to. Steve, who was very much Eddie’s type.

It was a recipe for disaster. Eddie’s brain-to-mouth filter had a long history of catastrophic failure, and tonight was no exception. One slip—one stupid pet name—and he could end up with a black eye.

Maybe he could make a black eye look metal. Wear it like a badge of honor while shredding on stage.

But then Steve had walked in and looked around like the trailer was a palace. Like it was better than the mini-mansion he lived in. He’d said he liked it. Said Wayne’s ridiculous mug collection was cool. Said he wouldn’t mind hearing the story behind every single one.

And Eddie had leaned in. Instinctively. Too far.

And then—Big Boy. Jesus Christ.

He’d turned away fast, hoping Steve wouldn’t register it. Half-expecting to hear the front door slam and find himself alone again. But Steve had followed him. Into the bedroom. Calm as anything, placing his glass next to Eddie’s on the nightstand, eyes curious and open.

“Sorry it’s a bit of a mess,” Eddie said, twisting his rings.

“No, it’s cool, man. It’s your space. I’m not gonna judge,” Steve replied, eyes scanning the posters before landing on Eddie’s guitar.

He stepped toward it, and Eddie tensed—but didn’t stop him.

Steve didn’t touch it. Just looked. Admired. “This is amazing. The design’s really detailed,” he said, smiling like he got it. Like he understood how important it was. Like he respected it.

Then he turned back to Eddie. “This whole room is so you, dude. It’s really cool.”

Eddie laughed. “Well, yeah, Steve. I do live in it.”

Steve frowned, and Eddie—of course—couldn’t leave it alone. “Do you not have stuff you like in your room?”

“Not really,” Steve shrugged. “It’s just a room.”

Eddie blinked. “Huh.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. It was kind of sad, the idea of Steve not having a space that felt like his. A room should be a reflection of who you are. A place where you can just be.

Steve deserved that.

“So,” Steve says, clearly trying to shift the mood. “You’re the lead guitarist, I’m guessing?”

“Ding ding ding, we have a winner,” Eddie replies. “What gave it away, Sweetheart?”

Oh. Oh no. Big Boy was one thing, but Sweetheart?

Eddie may as well start bracing for impact now. He clenches his fists at his sides, waiting for the inevitable punch.

But instead, Steve laughs. A real, full laugh that bursts from his chest—and then he gently pushes Eddie’s arm, not a fist to the face.

“Shut up,” Steve grins. “I was trying to show genuine interest in your part in the band, jerk. I picked up some tapes from the record store after work yesterday. I’ve never really listened to this kind of music before, but the solo guitar parts sounded so complicated and impressive. Like that must take a lot of skill. Can you do that?”

Eddie’s brain short-circuits.

He really needs to stop having expectations when it comes to Steve Harrington. Every time he thinks he’s figured the guy out, Steve does something that makes Eddie feel like he’s about to go into cardiac arrest.

“Wait a minute,” Eddie says slowly. “You—Steve Harrington—mean to tell me that you went to the record store, bought metal, and listened to it? Unprompted?”

Steve blinks. “Yeah?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were body-snatched,” Eddie mutters. “Who?”

“Who?” Steve echoes, confused.

“Yeah, who did you listen to?”

“Oh. Uh, well, I didn’t know any band names, and Robin just gave me a weird look when I asked her,” Steve admits. “So, I went with the one I saw on the back of that jacket you were wearing the other day.”

“Dio?” Eddie’s voice cracks a little. He folds one arm across his chest and tugs a lock of hair toward his mouth with the other. He tries not to notice the way Steve’s eyes follow the movement. “You listened to Dio?”

Steve nods. “Yeah.”

Eddie swallows. “Thoughts?”

Steve doesn’t answer right away. He’s thinking—really thinking—and Eddie can practically hear the gears turning. The silence stretches just long enough to make Eddie’s stomach twist. He braces himself for disappointment.

But he waits. Because Steve has surprised him all night, and maybe—just maybe—he’ll do it again.

Steve shifts his weight from one foot to the other, eyes flicking between Eddie and the guitar again. He’s quiet for a few more seconds, then finally says:

“I thought it was... kind of awesome, actually.”

Eddie blinks.

“I mean, I didn’t know what to expect,” Steve continues, rubbing the back of his neck. “I figured it’d just be loud and angry, but it wasn’t. It was intense, yeah, but also kind of theatrical? Like, dramatic in a cool way. And the guitar solos—dude, they were insane. I don’t even know how someone’s fingers move that fast.”

He pauses, then adds, a little sheepishly, “I liked it more than I thought I would. A lot more.”

Eddie stares at him like he’s trying to figure out if this is a prank. Steve can practically see the disbelief written all over his face.

“I’m serious,” Steve says, holding his hands up. “I even rewound one of the solos a few times just to hear it again. I think it was from a song called ‘Rainbow in the Dark’? That one was sick.”

Eddie makes a noise that might be a laugh or a choked sob—it’s hard to tell.

Steve smiles. “So yeah. I mean, I’ve always been into rock, but metal is cool. I can see why you like it.” He shrugs, trying to play it cool, but there’s a flicker of something earnest in his eyes. “I just wanted to understand what you’re into. Felt important. Especially if it’s the kind of music your band will want me to sing if I decide to join you.”

Steve sits on the edge of Eddie’s bed, looking a little unsure of himself. Eddie joins him without hesitation, still reeling a little.

“Can I tell you something kind of embarrassing?” Steve asks.

“Anything,” Eddie says, and winces at the slight shake in his voice. He’s trying to play it cool but come on, Steve likes Dio. Steve complimented metal. Eddie’s barely holding it together.

“You won’t judge?” Steve asks again, quieter this time.

Eddie’s chest tightens at the uncertainty in his voice. “Of course not,” he says. “You’re talking to Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson. Judging people isn’t really my thing.”

Steve gives a small, crooked smile. “I don’t think you’re a freak.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to do with that, so he just waits.

“You’re probably gonna think it’s dumb that I’m even embarrassed about this.”

“Try me.”

Steve looks down at the floor. “I just really love music. Like, all kinds. I think it’s amazing that there’s always something out there that fits whatever you’re feeling. And the fact that people can write something that connects with so many others? That’s wild to me. Like, a song can make someone feel understood—or even save their life.”

He pauses, then keeps going, voice picking up a little. “And sometimes I’ll be listening to something I’ve heard a hundred times, and suddenly I’ll notice a new sound in the background—a guitar riff, a harmony, something small—and it’s weirdly satisfying.”

Eddie watches him, heart thudding.

“And when a band I like drops a new song and it’s actually good?” Steve laughs softly. “It feels like my team just won a championship or something. I get this rush. I don’t know. It probably sounds dumb.”

Eddie shakes his head, gently placing a hand on Steve’s knee before he can stop himself. Steve glances down at it but doesn’t pull away.

“Steve,” Eddie says, voice low. “None of that’s dumb. That’s exactly how I feel about music. Well, minus the sports metaphor. For me, it’s more like when a D&D campaign I’ve been planning for months actually works and everyone’s into it.”

Steve looks up at him. “You really think it’s not weird?”

“I think it’s awesome,” Eddie says. “Honestly? It makes you way more interesting than half the people you used to hang out with.”

Steve huffs a laugh. “Thanks. I guess I’ve just never really talked about it before. Didn’t think anyone would get it.”

“Well, I do,” Eddie says. “And for the record, it’s not weird to care about stuff. It’s actually kind of great.”

Steve meets his eyes and smiles—soft, genuine. “Thanks, Eddie.”

“You’re welcome. Now,” Eddie says, sliding his hand away from Steve’s leg, “let’s talk about the singing.”

“The singing,” Steve echoes, shrinking into himself a little. “What do you want to know?”

“Have you ever sung in front of someone before?” Eddie asks gently.

“Not that I know of,” Steve says. “Unless you count someone accidentally hearing me in the shower.” He lets out a small laugh. “I never thought I was good enough to sing for people. I just like how it makes me feel. It’s... comforting. Freeing, I guess.”

Eddie very valiantly does not think about Steve in the shower. He definitely doesn’t dwell on how cute Steve looks when he talks about this stuff. He’s cool. Totally cool. Anyone who says otherwise is a liar.

“Okay,” Eddie says, clearing his throat. “So, I know I said I’d show you some of our songs, but I think we should start by getting you comfortable singing in front of someone first.”

He stands and crosses the room, grabbing a mic and stand from the corner and setting it up in the middle of the room.

“I’ve filled in as lead singer before—kind of am right now while we’re figuring things out—and I’m decent. But I’d rather focus on guitar and then support with backing vocals and maybe some ad libs. The good news is I know a lot of the warmups and techniques, and I can teach you those. But for today, I thought we’d keep it simple.”

Steve watches him, nodding slowly, though his eyes flick to the mic with a hint of apprehension.

“I figured you could just sing something—anything you want—and I’ll be your audience,” Eddie says. “No pressure, no new songs, no band yet. Just you and me. That way, you can build some confidence without getting overwhelmed.”

Steve hesitates, then nods. “Yeah. That sounds doable.”

“Okay. Then come on over here, pretty boy,” Eddie says, gesturing to the mic stand. “Might need to adjust it for your height, but we’re probably close enough.”

Steve doesn’t move right away, so Eddie reaches out and grabs his hand, gently tugging him to his feet. Steve’s face turns a very intriguing shade of pink, but he doesn’t protest the nickname—or the touch. Eddie counts that as a win and mentally gives himself permission to keep the pet names coming.

He’s very fond of them, after all.

As Eddie adjusts the mic and flips on the speakers, he notices Steve eyeing the setup like it might bite him.

“Okay, first things first,” Eddie says, grinning. “I promise the microphone won’t hurt you. You can stand a little closer to it. Just don’t, like, put it in your mouth and you’ll be golden.”

Steve blinks. “Why would I put the microphone in my mouth?” he asks—then jumps slightly when his voice echoes through the speakers.

“You’d be surprised,” Eddie says, laughing. “We’ve had people try out for the band who did exactly that.”

Steve squints at the mic, then at Eddie. “How? Like... how did they even fit their mouths around it?”

Eddie opens his mouth to answer, then immediately regrets it. His brain goes somewhere it definitely shouldn’t.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he says instead, waggling his eyebrows.

The laugh that bursts out of Steve is bright and unguarded, and Eddie knows—knows—he’s going to hear it in his dreams tonight.

--------------------------

Steve tries to stop his chest from tightening. It’s just a microphone—an inanimate object. So why does it feel like it’s staring him down? Eddie’s been nothing but kind, and the last thing Steve wants is to let him down. But right now, the idea of singing out loud makes his heart feel like it’s trying to escape through his throat.

“Right,” Eddie says, adjusting the mic one last time. “I think we’re all set. Got a song in mind?”

“Uh...” Steve’s mind goes completely blank. His throat suddenly feels like sandpaper. Something must show on his face, because Eddie steps in without missing a beat.

“Okay, last time you were singing Fleetwood Mac, right?” he prompts. Then he chuckles. “That’s actually kind of funny—you’re Steve, and you were singing a song by a band with a Stevie.”

Steve huffs a laugh, grateful for the distraction. “Yeah, well... maybe if you play your cards right, your band will have a Stevie too.”

“Hopefully,” Eddie smiles. “So, which one of their songs would you say you know best?”

“Probably Dreams,” Steve says, leaving out the part about how it’s the one he listens to on his more emotional days.

“Think you could sing a bit of it for me? Even just the chorus?”

Steve looks at the microphone, and suddenly his breath catches. The room feels smaller, like the walls are closing in. His chest tightens, like there’s a belt wrapped around it, cinching tighter with every breath. He feels exposed—like he’s facing a Demogorgon with no weapon.

“I don’t know about this, Eddie,” he admits, voice tight. “What if the other day was a fluke? What if I’m not actually any good? I—”

“Hey,” Eddie says gently. “Look at me.”

A warm hand settles on Steve’s shoulder, grounding him. Steve lifts his gaze and finds Eddie’s eyes—kind, steady, safe.

“You don’t have to worry,” Eddie says. “It’s just me. If it helps, you can close your eyes and pretend you’re alone. This isn’t about being perfect. It’s just about trying. Seeing how it feels.”

“I don’t have to be perfect?” Steve echoes.

No one’s ever said that to him before.

Usually, it’s the opposite. He has to be perfect—because if he isn’t, he might lose the game, lose his job, lose his parents’ approval. Or worse, someone he cares about might get hurt. There’s never been room for mistakes. Not without consequences.

“Of course not. Hell, when I first started learning guitar, it took me days just to figure out how to hold the thing properly,” Eddie says, a fond smile tugging at his lips. He’s looking at Steve like he’s someone worth protecting for once, not like he’s the one who should be doing the protecting. Steve doesn’t know what to do with that.

“I’ve messed up on stage before. So have the other guys. No one’s gonna give you trouble for it. You’re human, Steve. Mistakes are human.”

Steve’s eyes sting. There’s a tightness in his throat that has nothing to do with singing. He suddenly realizes there’s a very real chance he might cry and embarrass himself completely. Eddie’s never going to want to invite him over again.

“Eddie,” he says, “if I decided I couldn’t do this would you still want to hang out sometime?”

Eddie blinks, stunned. “You want to hang out with me?” he asks, pointing to himself like he thinks Steve must’ve meant someone else.

“Yeah,” Steve nods. “I know we don’t really know each other, and there’s no reason we have to spend time together outside of this, but... I don’t know. You’re really cool, Eddie. I like talking to you. Most of my friends are the kids I babysit and Robin. It’s nice to talk to another guy my age without all the macho, popularity crap getting in the way.”

He hesitates, then adds, “So, I don’t want to let you down, but if I did, would you still want to hang out? Watch a movie or something?”

It’s too much. Steve knows it. His brain is screaming at him to take it back, to laugh it off. But it’s out there now. No hiding it.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says softly.

There it is again—that strange, fluttery feeling Steve gets every time Eddie calls him something like that. It’s warm and thrilling, like a spark under his skin.

“You couldn’t let me down even if you opened your mouth right now and it sounded like absolute garbage.”

Eddie’s hand tightens on Steve’s shoulder, grounding him. His thumb moves in slow, soothing circles against the fabric of Steve’s shirt. It’s the kind of gentle care Steve’s only ever gotten from Robin and even then, not like this.

“You’ve already impressed me, Steve. I never thought I’d enjoy your company, but you’re not what I expected. In a good way. I like talking to you too.”

He smiles, earnest and a little shy. “So, if you really don’t want to do this, it’s fine. I’ll tell the guys to back off, and we can hang out whenever. But I think this could be something really good for all of us. So, I think you should give it a shot. What do you say?”

The tight grip around Steve’s chest loosens. The microphone no longer looks like a threat. The walls stop closing in.

He takes a deep, centering breath and nods. “I think I can try.”

“Good,” Eddie says, giving his shoulder one last squeeze before hopping up onto the bed and settling cross-legged on top of the duvet. Steve tries not to think about how empty his shoulder feels now. “I know it probably feels awkward without any backing music, so if you want me to grab my guitar and play backup, just say the word. I’m yours to command, Sir Steve.”

Steve chooses to ignore that last part for the sake of his sanity. Yep. Not thinking about the implications of that.

“Right,” he says. “Okay. I can do this.”

“You got this,” Eddie agrees. “Look at the floor if you need to—we’ll work on stage presence later.”

Steve thinks that if Eddie had been at his basketball games or swim meets, he probably would’ve won every time. Eddie has enough confidence in him for both of them. That thought is what finally pushes the first few lines out of his mouth.

It starts off quiet, a little awkward. He’s staring at the carpet like Eddie suggested, and he can feel Eddie’s eyes on him. It’s a familiar feeling from sports, but never from singing. That’s going to take some getting used to.

But then it happens—that spark. That feeling of freedom. His voice fills the room, clear and steady, wrapping around him like a warm blanket. It’s comforting. Empowering. The fact that he is making this sound, that it’s his voice reaching every corner of the room, leaves him in awe.

He starts to relax. His posture straightens. His eyes lift—and find Eddie.

Eddie is beaming, eyes wide with delight, and Steve’s next line comes out with a laugh. He feels elated knowing he caused that expression. Something soars in his chest, and for a moment, he feels invincible. He starts to project more, leaning into the feeling.

By the time he finishes the song, Eddie is already on his feet, pulling him into a tight hug. Steve barely has time to react before he’s hugging back just as tightly, laughing into Eddie’s shoulder.

“You did amazing, Stevie,” Eddie whispers.

And just like that, Steve knows.

He’s going to say yes to Corroded Coffin.

Because he kind of wants to feel like this forever.

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