#(i love all the arts but i do have ones that i just. clutch gently.)

[sharkieboi]

hi okay so i’m rewatching Starstruck and

a) being able to binge it as the Complete Experience with the Adventuring Party(s) right after each episode is very great and I like being able to revisit the story this way

b) I actually think this is my favorite season of character art in general, and in particular Sundry Sidney’s portrait is no contest my absolute favorite character art of all of D20

[stariikis]

what's your ETA?

synopsis ; in a crowded train headed towards your friend's art showcase, you and your boyfriend are caught in an awkward position.

pairing ; non-idol!nishimura riki x fem!reader genre ; fluff, established rs, literal forced proximity wc ; 1180 warnings ; kissing (a lil bit in public), lots of teasing, and mentions of height difference..

“I swear, if you make one more cup of coffee and insist you have to drink it before we go, I'll personally push you onto the train tracks.”

Nearly spitting out his beverage, Riki swallows abruptly and coughs. “Now, I would say I’m used to your violent tendencies, but that’s just gory. But I’d honestly like to see it.” His eyes shine with an unsettling excitement that has you blinking rapidly. 

“You won’t be alive to see it…” You tilt your head and feign confusion. In reality, this is both your way of flirty banter. Since Riki just loves to tease you, you believe it’s only fair that you should be allowed to tease back. However, your version of teasing is questionably rude at times, way worse than any fireball of quips Riki showers you with. 

“You wanna go or not?” Riki sighs, his mug making a clunking sound on the table when he puts it down. “I’m ready to just sit here and argue with you until night — I’m not the one desperate to see Sunoo’s art exhibition.” 

“No, I swear it’s not because I’m desperate to go. You’re the one who’s closer to him though?” You shake your head and frown in bewilderment. “Fake friend.” 

Riki whips around in his seat. “Pick me!”

”Bad boyfriend!” You erupt into laughter and lunge forward to ruffle his hair. 

Playing along, Riki gets up and pushes you gently away from him. But at the same time his fingers grab ahold of your wrist, holding you close, like he doesn’t really mean it. He’s casting the bait, eyes that look deeply and adoringly into yours glimmering with enthusiasm. 

“You’re taking it to heart. Don’t take it to heart,” he murmurs, and leans in to kiss you, voice dropping down to a low. “Pathological liar.” Before you have time to protest, he giggles, hugging you close as if daring you to spit out another one of your alleged, ‘lies’. 

When you both reach the station, its difficult to see through the sardine-packed crowd of people in front of you. “It… is so crowded,” you tiptoe to be able to whisper in Riki’s ear – and even that’s not enough, he has to lean down with a huff of amusement for you to reach. “Why is it so crowded today?” 

Shrugging his shoulders loosely, Riki slips his hand into yours, squeezing it tight. “You’re the one who wanted to go to this art show.” He mutters quietly. “Kim Sunoo’s, no less. You know we can just ask him to conduct a private show for us?” 

“Is supporting your friends a concept nonexistent to you?” You snap, feigning irritation but responding by rubbing your thumb over his. Your boyfriend pretends to be hurt by this, staggering backwards as much as he can in the crowd. His free hand clutching his chest, the playful atmosphere set by your banter fades when he looks at you. Wearing a gentle smile, he leads you into the train when the doors and gates slide open. 

He manages to secure you both a spot along the wall near the right-hand-side doors. You can tell by the guilt in his eyes that he wants to find you a seat too, but you’re probably going to get dirty looks from the elderlies if you do so. Luckily, he saves you the social torture and doesn’t force you to take a seat. 

The first few stops the train makes are still bearable. Riki is squashed a little too close for comfort at times, caging you in against the wall while you just stare ahead as if nothing’s happening. You ignore the tingles the situations send, all the way from your neurons down to your toes. However, when the crowd dissolves as they alight at their respective stations, you can breathe a sigh of relief. 

Like usual, Riki makes a snide remark about your morning breath (even though you’re quite certain your dental routine is competent), and returns to scroll on his phone. What disheartens you, though, is how genuinely uninterested he seems in Sunoo’s exhibit. And how bored he seems to be, despite being here with you. 

There’s a nonchalant faze across his face as he scrolls social media, leaning in close with a hand adjusting its grip on the grab bar next to you. You tilt your head, chest starting to ache. Does he really not care as much as you’d like to think he does? To not even feel an ounce of excitement in this moment? 

The train screeches to a halt as if agreeing with your intrusive thoughts. There’s still a long way to travel downtown to where the exhibit is held, and unfortunately for you, this is the most crowded station the train has stopped at by far. So many people pour into the carriage that it’s not even five seconds before Riki’s whole body is pressed up against yours. 

He drops the arm holding his phone down to his side. 

People are pushing you on both sides, and suddenly there’s a wave of gratefulness that you’re not stuck in the middle of the carriage. As if your current situation isn’t painful enough. Your boyfriend can’t meet your eyes, and it’s not surprising. With your noses mere inches apart (only because of the height difference), even you, usually assertive and confident, have to look into the distance. 

“Sorry…” Riki says in a hushed tone, moving his lips closer to your ear. His head has practically dropped down onto your shoulder, and you can feel yourself filled with vigorous tremors. He slips his phone into his back pocket, and the hand previously holding it snakes protectively around your waist. You blink up at him, expecting a warm look down, but all you’re met with is narrowed eyes carefully scanning the surroundings. 

His neck still dipped downwards, he hugs you close when the final few people slip into the train. Clearly feeling you shaking, he hums soothingly into your ear, “you’re safe”. “You have me.” “Don’t be too scared.” Anything else he says goes in one ear and goes out the other. 

Because. In such a situation, what would you expect your boyfriend to proceed to do? a), Accept fate and stay in position, b), shyly turn away from the deathly awkwardness, or c), giggle and tilt his head to pepper kisses along your neck? 

Riki chose C. 

He’s so gross, you think, but only when you’re stumbling out the train and running all the way to Sunoo’s exhibit to save yourself from remembering the situation more. Why did he ever do that? I should have shoved him away and called him a pervert and acted as if I didn’t know him. 

What a lie — when he was pressing a final kiss against your cheek your first thought wasn’t even remotely close to wanting to shove him away. Rather, you had pouted, arms wrapped around his neck, because he’s going to have to make up for being both indifferent towards you and making you so late. 

(It is never really his fault.)

thank you for reading! i'm so sorry for the lack of uploads recently, life has just gotten a little bit busier and i finally got a lil break so i decided to write this prompt i thought of a while back!

more of my works >

[strangersmunsons]

read 'em and weep

you and Eddie meet at the library. he’s smitten.

Contains: Eddie x Reader, bookworm!reader, lovesick!Eddie, reader gives Eddie book recommendations. No mention of reader’s physical appearance, no use of y/n. Warnings: brief mention of loneliness & negligence in Eddie’s childhood. Word Count: ~2.2k it's my hope to make this a little series! i think eddie is def a bookish guy - no lord of the rings quoting, metal head dungeon master hates reading. he would certainly be open to any fantasy/horror recs you had for him! <3

Indiana. 1989.

Hawkins Library sees a lot of action in the summer.

They offer a wide variety of youth programs to keep the local kids busy and the parents sane while school is out. One of the main events is Saturday Story Time, a beloved weekly staple that you have recently been tasked with putting on.

It’s simple. You gather a number of books, usually with a common theme, and then read a select few to the children who had signed up for the day. Most of the kids in attendance are no older than six or so, with some parents even pulling up chairs to the back so they can sit with infants cradled in their arms. The older ones sit criss-cross-applesauce on carpet squares in front of you, their chubby faces alight with giggles as you recount each silly, fantastical story with all the spirit you can muster.

And then there’s always an accompanying arts and crafts project, of course. If you read The Very Hungry Caterpillar then, naturally, you have to make little googly-eyed caterpillars out of popsicle sticks and colorful pom-poms. You don’t make the rules.

If trouble occurs during Story Time, it’s usually in this phase. (Giving paste to toddlers is always a gamble – you never know what they’re gonna do with that.)

And on this particular morning, it’s been chaos from start to finish. A whopping eighteen kids had signed up, and you stretched yourself pretty thin trying to attend to everyone.

One of the babies spit up directly onto the little girl sitting in front of him and his mother. Someone slipped on their carpet square and fell harshly to the floor, earning a bruised elbow that you gently fussed over. You wrangled a pair of twins who fought bitterly over a bottle of Elmer’s glue. There were three individual running-with-scissors-scares and, finally, you spent a good ten minutes soothing one sobbing child with whom there was nothing apparently wrong with, and that you suspected was just in need of a good cry.

So yeah, it was basically pandemonium.

But eventually, to your great relief, things wound down. The audience dispersed, with their handmade goods clutched in sticky fists, and went to peruse the glossy line of picture books you put out for display. Within the next hour or two, everyone traded the cool darkness of the library for buttery sunshine, and all was quiet again. You waved cheerfully to the last parent-child duo as they made their exit, promising them that there’d be a fun activity next weekend too.

You love these storytime sessions, you really do, but sheesh. Sometimes they run you ragged. With the havoc of the morning finally over, and the promise of lunch in your near future, you try to shake off the weariness, and instead take it upon yourself to clean up the disorganized mess someone’s made of the horror section.

You’re going about your work, tongue poking out in concentration as you strain to reach the really high shelves, when you notice someone standing in your peripheral vision. You turn and glance at him, or at least, what you can see of him. He’s half-hidden by the shelf behind you, but you catch sight of brown hair and denim.

A pale face appears on a craned neck from around the corner. His dark eyes meet yours, widen slightly when he sees that you’ve caught him lurking, and he abruptly disappears again.

You purse your lips to hide your smile. This isn’t uncommon; such moments often occur when you’re cleaning up a section of books someone is hoping to sift through. In a small act of kindness, you move over to the neighboring shelf and look for something to busy yourself with; trying to give the guy a chance to browse without having to ask you to step aside.

He doesn’t emerge. You wait, expecting to sense him passing by you, but no dice. It’s amusing to think that someone might be frightened to approach you (You? Really?) but you can’t help feeling sorry that you were in his way.

The rest of your shift is rather uneventful. At the end of the day, you punch out and head home, the stranger behind the shelf forgotten. 

When you come back to work on Monday, it’s much quieter than the last morning you’d been in. You greet your coworkers and set up shop at the front desk, opening up a book of your own to pass the time until someone needed assistance.

You’ve been reading for about half an hour when the big double doors open up for the day’s first visitor, the sound echoing loudly in the silent, spacious room. You look up in interest, ready to greet the person with a warm smile.

“Good morning!” you softly call out as he comes into view. He walks slowly towards you, shoes scuffing the checkered tile with each step. As he comes nearer, you can see that he’s biting his lip, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, the gesture oozing self-consciousness. He only makes eye contact with you for a second before his gaze flits away again.

He’s pretty conspicuous-looking to be approaching the desk with such hesitance, you think. He has dark hair that hangs in slightly-scraggly curls down to his chest, and huge dark eyes. The pale skin of his arms, sticking out from within a denim vest/Judas Priest t-shirt combo, are littered with tattoos.

He pauses a few feet away from you, like he’s debating whether he wants to stop and chat, or to simply veer off towards the bookshelves and start browsing. Ultimately he decides to shuffle forward, closing the distance between the two of you.

“Hi there. What can I do for you?” you ask, voice gentle but encouraging.

He looks down and rests a hand on the desk, absentmindedly tracing the wood pattern with his thumb. “Um, yes.” He doesn’t offer anything else.

There’s a pregnant pause, both of you digesting the fact that what you had asked was not a yes or no question.

He tries again. “I…am in need…of some new reading material.”

You nod gravely, expression serious. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. Did you have anything specific in mind?”

He begins to rock lightly back and forth on his feet, contemplating. “I like fantasy, especially Tolkien. I read a lot of horror, too, and sometimes sci-fi. If you had any suggestions for me, that’d be great.”

“Oh, we can certainly find you something,” you reassure him, already flipping through a mental rolodex of your favorite books in those genres. “Here, come with me.”

You stand and move around the desk to meet him, beckoning for him to follow.

Eddie watches you run a delicate hand over the spines of the books, keenly aware of the clammy sweat that’s flooding his own palms. Be cool, Munson. 

“So,” you begin, a gleam of excitement in your eyes, “you like fantasy. Do you read Le Guin?”

Eddie nods eagerly, hair bouncing slightly with the movement. “Oh yeah, I’ve read the Earthsea trilogy.”

“Have you read any of The Hainish Cycle books?”

“I haven’t read those ones, no.”

You pull out two slim paperbacks from the row, holding each one out for him so he can study the covers. “These ones are science fiction, and they’re pretty good. You might like Rocannon’s World since it’s similar to a fantasy novel, but personally I think Left Hand of Darkness is the best.” You suddenly pause, and look around furtively, like you were checking to make sure that you two are really alone. You even put a hand up to the side of your mouth, as though shielding the conversation from eavesdroppers.

“Honestly,” you lower your voice like you’re admitting something scandalous, “I even liked it better than Earthsea.”

“No!” Eddie immediately matches your whispered, gossipy tone and lets his jaw drop, pretending to be aghast.

“Yes!” you insist, seemingly delighted by his willingness to play along. Eddie’s heart soars.

“I guess I can’t refute that until I read it, huh? What’s it about?” he asked, taking it from your hand.

“An envoy is visiting this frozen alien planet, and he’s trying to convince them to join this intergalactic coalition that he represents, but they’re making it like, really difficult for him. Also, gender doesn’t exist, and there’s political turmoil stemming from border disputes.”

“...oh. Cool.”

The next half-hour passes in this fashion. Your soft, mild demeanor is aglow with enthusiasm as you pull out book after book, giving him an off-the-cuff elevator pitch for each. Eddie can practically feel the cartoon hearts swirling around his head, bright pink and red bubbles that are almost certainly going to appear out of thin air and give him away.

He can’t put his finger on what it is, precisely, that’s pulling him in so deeply, drawing him towards you like a magnet with an opposite pole. Maybe it’s the tender way you talk about each book, the love and care that’s so tangible in your sweet voice, the way you speak about them as though they’re your old friends. Perhaps they are.

It’s not an unfamiliar concept to Eddie. A childhood steeped in loneliness and poverty, instability and dysfunction, neglect from his volatile and unreliable parents…yeah, he gets it. The wanting, the longing, the dire need to escape to someplace that doesn’t exist, some place where things were better and didn’t hurt, a dreamworld that would be kinder to a scrawny little boy with unwashed hair and a mean father.

The closest he ever came to it was when he lost himself between the yellowed and dog-eared pages of the few, precious books he owned.

So he listens to you chatter away with chest-aching tenderness, already thinking that he could listen to you like this for hours and be glad for it.

“You love fantasy, but you’ve never read The Last Unicorn?” 

Eddie gives you an apologetic half-shrug, no longer able to keep the goofy, besotted grin from unfurling across his face. “Never got around to it, I guess.”

“It makes me cry. You have to take it,” you tell him with pleading eyes, adding it to the top of the growing pile in his arms before he can refuse. Not that he ever would. How could he, when you look at him like that?

“You cry at this one, really?” He looks curiously at the artwork on the front, an innocent picture of the pale horned creature. “But it’s so unassuming…”

“Don’t be fooled, it’ll get you. Take it,” you repeat.

Eddie shifts the stack of books to cradle it in one arm, so he can raise the other at you in a salute. “Yes, ma’am. And when I’m finished with it, I’ll give you a full report on the emotional damage it caused me.”

This makes you giggle, lips turned up in a gorgeous smile, and Eddie knows he’s a goner.

Back at the front, you resume your previous positions at the desk. Him in front and you behind, this time separated by a short pile of books.

You hold your hand out. “Card, please, sir.” Polite and professional, but with a little sparkle in your eye that lets Eddie hope for a moment that his time with you this morning was more pleasure than business.

He fumbles with his wallet, slipping out his library card and slotting it between his index and middle fingers, extending it for you to take. His chunky silver rings catch the light.

You accept the offering. “Thank you” – you quickly read the messy signature at the bottom – “Edward.” You look back at him with a grin.

He cringes, face scrunching in embarrassment. “Oh God. Call me Eddie, please.”

The scanner gives a little chirp! as you begin the checkout process, nodding. “Will do, Eddie.” His name sounds like a song when you say it, one he never wants to stop listening to.

You finish scanning his books, and slide a receipt into the jacket of the novel on top (which just so happens to be Katherine Dunn’s Geek Love). Instead of sliding the stack towards him, you keep both hands clasped on the cover, hesitating. You bite your lip, an unconscious imitation of himself earlier. “Listen….”

Eddie straightens up a little, stomach flipping like a coin. “Yeah?”

You bow your head. “I’m sorry if I talked too much. It’s just – most people who come in don’t actually ask me for recommendations, and I got excited,” you admit quietly, looking sheepish.

“Don’t apologize,” Eddie says without missing a beat. “I appreciate it. I really enjoyed it, actually,” he adds, eager to quell your anxiety. “I liked talking with you.” More than you know.

“O-oh,” you stutter, taken aback. “I liked talking with you, too.”

Eddie nods, smiling slightly. “Would you like to…talk again?” He flushes scarlet and coughs. Smooth. “I just mean, when I finish these” – he motions towards the day’s finds – “we have to discuss them, right? You helped me pick ‘em out, after all.”

“Of course. You have to let me know what you think.”

His smile gets bigger. “So we’ll reconvene?”

“We’ll reconvene,” you chuckle.

“Awesome. Looking forward to it.” He sweeps up his books, and gives you a little wave. “Thanks again, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.”

And he can hardly wait. It looks like he’s got a lot of reading to do…

thanks for reading!!! <3 edit: this is now a series! Read Ch. 2-> Here!

[yan-batgirl]

I don't know why Tumblr keeps forbidding me from editing requests! Why do you hate me, Tumblr?! 😭

Request: Hi! I love your one shots, and I was wondering if you could maybe do a clingy!yandere!batfamily (with all the family members) please and thank you!

Warning: Clingy behavior, forced cuddling, mentions of manipulation, they were cudding with her so much that batgirl reader was suffocating

The reader is going to be referred to as 'Batgirl'

~~~~~

In those nights of Gotham, the night where there aren't a lot of crimes. People would wonder what Batman and his small family are up to.

Watching a movie is what they're doing.

While cuddling with their little batgirl at the same time.

"Guys, can you stop talking? I can't hear," she tells them as she munch on her popcorn.

Currently, Batgirl was being held by her siblings at the point where she was going to be breathless. She was trying to focus on the screen, but she couldn't because of the weight on her siblings onto her.

"Shhhh... Just focus, my dear baby sister," Stephanie reassures her as she strokes her sister's head.

"Don't touch her, Brown!" Damian scolds her as he swats her hand away.

"Be careful with her head!" Tim said as he tries to make one of them hold the back of her head.

"Calm down, Tim. I got her," Duke reassures him as Cassandra is just hugging her sister's small body.

"All of you are touching her," Barbara corrects him as she munched onto her candy.

"We have to make sure that she's safe, Babs!" Dick said as he clutched onto Batgirl tightly in his arms.

"Stop pulling her so close to you, bastard," Jason said in a harsh tone that made her jolt.

Then, the two oldest children began to argue. That's when the others joined in as well, which made the movie audio unheard. Meanwhile, Batgirl is just munching on her popcorn as she tries to focus on the movie.

As she was watching, she was suddenly picked up out of her seat by someone. She looks up to see Bruce lifting her up.

"Hey, the movie is not done," she said as she pointed at the big screen as she watched Bruce pick up his bowl of popcorn.

"I couldn't hear. Well, you may now why," he said as he glanced at the rest of his children.

With that, he walks out of the theater, leaving the arguing batsiblings behind.

~~~~~

After a long argument, the others saw that their little sister is gone.

They were silent before gave each other glances before they quickly departed ways.

As they were looking around the mansion, they heard Jason make a signal that made everyone quickly run upstairs where they see him next to the smiling Alfred.

They were wondering what was happening before they saw the scene in front of them.

Bruce was holding onto Batgirl as she was underneath his covers, asleep while holding onto her stuffed animal, Batsie. The TV in his room was playing the same movie and the parts that they couldn't watch because of the other children's arguing in the theater.

They were just exchanging looks as they stared at their father and mentor cuddling with their sister. A pit of jealously rose inside them, but at the same time, they knew who won.

Bruce then gets up and turns off the TV before he walks out of his bedroom and gently closes the door.

"We have to go and patrol for tonight. Duke, Tim, Stephanie. You three will come with me. Alfred, prepare the guest room for me when I get back."

He orders with his Batman demeanor before he walks off. When he walked off, the others turned to each other.

"Looks like we know the winner of this whole thing, but not for long," Dick said as some of the others groaned out of defeat.

However, at the same time, they couldn't help but adore the sleeping Batgirl on the bed.

~~~~~

Please do NOT steal my art!

[steveshairychest]

Eddie moves away from Hawkins and opens a tattoo/coffee shop with Robin and Steve. There's a small apartment above their cozy shop that the four of them live in; Nancy moved away with them too but she's in college and only stays a couple nights a week, to Robin's dismay.

Steve runs the coffee side of things at the front of the shop, sometimes with the help of Robin, but she's in the process of learning how to become a professional piercer so she spends a lot of her days at another shop a few blocks down. Eddie's promised her that once she's fully trained, she can turn the spare back room into her piercing studio and decorate it however she likes.

Eddie spends all day tattooing. He loves it. He loves that people are willing to wear his art forever and he makes sure to take pictures of everything he does to add to the wall of tattoos (instgram isn't a thing yet, he has to show off his clients' tattoos somehow). The whole front wall of the shop is covered in polaroids of his art on people's bodies. It's a collage of his life's work. There's a few photos of Steve and Robin in there showing off their matching bff tattoos and one of Steve shyly standing there with no shirt on, the bat tattoos on his ribs on full display.

Eddie isn't supposed to have favourites, he's supposed to love and appreciate all his works of art equally, but that one is secretly his favourite. He runs his fingers over the ink on Steve's ribs every night.

They got a surprise visitor in 1990; Will Byers. Normally, the kids ring in advance to let them know they're coming so that they can organise the spare room upstairs and save a booth in the cafe for them to sit and chat to Steve while he works. But Will came unannounced and he looks oddly nervous standing in front of Eddie's desk in the back of the shop with a folder clutched to his chest.

"What can I do for you, baby Byers?" Eddie's wearing his thick rimmed glasses and organising paperwork as it's the one day he doesn't take clients. But if Will's come in for a tattoo, then he'd drop everything and set up. He's been waiting for the day the kids come in and ask for a tattoo from him.

"Uhm, I'm sorry I didn't call first -"

"Psh, it's fine. You're always welcome here." Eddie says with a wave of his ring clad hand. Will eyes the fresh ink on the top of his hand, and Eddie grins. "Are you here for a tattoo?"

Will looks over his shoulder at Steve, who had spoken to Will quietly when he first came in, and he is met with an encouraging nod from the older man. Steve makes a shooing motion with his hand as if to say, 'Go on. You can do it.'

Eddie waits patiently and watches closely as Will sets the folder in his arms down on the desk. "I was actually wondering if you were looking for an apprentice. I-I want to be a tattoo artist like you."

Steve watches anxiously from behind the coffee counter as Eddie flicks through Will's portfolio without saying anything. He's the one that encouraged Will to bring his art in and if Eddie said no, which Steve doubts, Steve would feel so bad. He'd even paid for Will's bus tickets because the kid still doesn't know how to drive.

Eddie gently closes the folder and levels Will with a blank stare, "You're hired." And then he breaks out into the biggest smile ever and runs around his desk to crush a very stunned Will into a hug. "How long can you stay? I've always wanted an apprentice! Ah! I have so much to show you!"

All the nervousness and tension in Will's body disappears and he hugs Eddie back just as tight. He meets Steve's gaze over Eddie's shoulder and feels like crying when he sees the proud smile on his former babysitters face. He wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Steve's encouragement. He'd stayed on the phone to Will the night before for hours comforting him and reassuring him it'd all be fine.

And it is fine, it's more than fine.

They turn the spare room upstairs into a bedroom for Will; they no longer need the extra room for Nancy as her and Robin have finally sorted their shit out and spend nearly every night together. Steve sometimes has to bang on their shared wall to tell them to stop giggling so loud.

By the end of the year, nearly everyone in the party has made their way through the doors of the shop to get a tattoo from both Eddie and Will. Steve's also been training Mike in the coffee shop because, "If you're gonna be in here all day, you may as well help out."

The photo collage is now overflowing with new photos from both Eddie and Will, who has been dubbed Eddie's successor.

[leclsrc]

hi auds bear!! dunno if you saw charles' insta story of his new sky ad but now begging for a 2k celebration blurb of dad!charles <3

misspelled – cl16

genre: fluff, 2k celebration, girldad!charles

“It’s L-E-S, love.” He points to the piece of paper peppered with doodles. “Go ahead for me.”

The sun is high and sweltering, with noontime March heat, but still Charles is undeterred in his quest to get your daughter to spell his name properly. The evening prior, you’d presented him with a welcome home card signed by her, and addressed to Daddy Charlse—cue the Leclerc dramatics.

He’d pressed about a thousand kisses to her tiny face, thanking her over and over and keeping the card in his bag so they could cook dinner together. But once the pasta was finished and the toothbrush jingle was sang (twice) and he’d stowed her off to bed (three storybooks later), he padded over to your bed and sighed lowly, stopping just shy of the foot of it. Already you’d sensed his incoming anxious complaint.

It comes. “So. Charl-s-e.” 

“She’s four, honey.” You’d shut your book softly, smiling. “She spells her grandmum’s name as Packal.”

“It’s because I’m always out for work, isn’t it?” He climbed into bed beside you, perching his chin on your stomach. “And this is also because Max keeps insisting he babysit, sweetie. I swear, he’s brainwashing my baby girl.”

You laughed; the vibration extended into him and he smiled fondly at your reaction. “Charles, it’s nothing. They’re working on spelling at school, you know—she’s got a few words she gets wrong sometimes, the same ones. But she’s learning.”

“Charl-s-e,” he’d repeated sullenly. “Charl-seh.”

“If it matters that much, why don’t you try teaching her tomorrow?” You swept your hand through his hair, mouth in a half-smile. “Make an afternoon of it.”

He’d taken your advice very seriously—woken up a bit earlier, cooked them both pancakes (and you French toast, as always) and led her into the yard for some daddy-daughter time. “If you’re thirsty, I made lemonade,” you sing-song from the patio door. “You two’ve been at it for a bit.”

There are scrapped pieces of paper with his name misspelled on most of them—there is the occasional success, though you’re guessing Charles wants just one more—and drawings of your family all over them. You already sense the influx of pictures Charles has on his phone, of these drawings and cards he always posts on his Instagram or sends to you.

At your announcement, Julia looks up, green eyes piqued with interest, grip on the red crayon loosening. But her father’s faster, gently coaxing her back into the mini lawn chair that sits on the yard. She nods along his careful instructions, writing slowly, sun filtering through her light brown hair.

You get short moments of reprieve like this during the season. It’s rare for Charles to visit if he’s in the thick of it—most of the time you travel to a different city to see him, Julia going from your hip to his arms in seconds once he spots the two of you. But this moment is irreplaceable: the sunrays on the grass, the lemonade waiting to be drank, the pieces of paper with Mommy and Papa, bunchfuls of grapes on the patio table. 

He tries again. “Come on, love. C-H-A…” 

She bounds into the kitchen five minutes clutching a final paper, which she shows you with a sun-tinged face of pride. CHARLSE, it reads still. You pour her a glass, wait for Charles to finish packing up the rest of the art materials Julia was too excited to do herself; he comes in a bit sweaty from the sun asking to see the card.

You hand him a glass and press a kiss to his cheek. “Still S-E,” you say, both of you reading over the various scribbles.

“I don’t care.” He pauses. “You see this?” He points to the lower part of the page. 

Best Daddy Ever is written on it in wild vivid colors. You beam, love bubbling up in your chest overwhelmingly. He takes it from you and tacks it onto on the fridge, smiling. “She wrote that. I couldn’t have asked for a better card.” 

[kairiscorner]

potential request: The reader has been dating Miles for a while and after having a particularly rough day, then being comforted by Miles, decides to thank Rio for raising such a lovely son and just expressing how grateful they are to call Miles their partner.

E-42!Miles and Rio would be preferred since I feel like that version of Rio, would appreciate the sentiment more (due to being more stressed as an overworked single mom). Although E-1610!Miles and Rio would work too.

aww, i love that idea <:)) i hope you like this anon, fuck, i truly love this what 😭😭💖💖💖

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

he was definitely raised right. – miles 42 x reader

art creds: @1_0T0R on twt !!

as you two were heading home for the weekend, miles didn't move his arm away from your shoulders–not one bit. he stayed there, holding you close to him, and letting you lean against his shoulder as you two listened to the playlist you both made together. today wasn't very good, it was okay but... it was tiring, uneventful, and it felt like it was dragging on longer than it should've. luckily, your boyfriend miles had caught on to your not so happy attitude and wanted to fix that the best he could.

he helped you out with your homework assigned today so all weekend-long, you'd be clear of work. he also carried your bag and books for you, even though you told him he didn't have to–he insisted; and when miles gonzalo morales insists on doing something, he'll go through with it and do it. as you two got off the bus and headed down towards his neighborhood, he offered to get you your favorite drink at a local bodega you guys frequent whenever you visit him. he let you look around for a bit, let you choose what you wanted to drink this time. you hesitated because the drink you wanted to get this time around was a little pricey and you didn't have much cash on you after the bus ride.

miles noticed your hesitation and asked you if you wanted it, with you saying yes, but putting it back on the shelf because it was too expensive. "nonsense." he said as he took the drink and walked up to the register with the snacks you two were going to share. you tried to take the drink away from miles and put it back on the shelf, but miles insisted to you, yet again, that he wanted to buy you that drink. "please, mi cielo, don't feel bad. as your boyfriend, it's my obligation to do this for you–and besides, it makes you happy, doesn't it?" he asked you with a smile as he thanked the cashier and handed you the drink he bought you on the way out. "if it makes you happy, then i'm already the happiest guy around, mi vida." he said as you gently smiled and took his hand in your free one, clutching the drink he bought you in your other hand as you sipped on it, feeling a lot more lighter and happier than you did earlier today.

you walked with miles, hand-in-hand, all the way back to his place. he carried all your things and the snacks he bought for you all on his own. every time you asked him if you could help, he'd gently reject your offer to help and insist that he's got it–all that matters now is that you're much happier than before. his mother greeted you two by the door, with her kissing miles' cheeks a 'welcome home' and her smiling and wrapping you in a tender hug. as miles went to the kitchen to get you some food that his mom cooked for dinner tonight, you and rio talked all about the events that unfolded between you and miles today. you went on and on to her about how sweet miles had been all day; how he offered to do things for and with you, buy stuff that'd make you happy and comfortable, and just how he'd stay with you all day to keep you happy.

rio smiled widely as you two sat at the dinner table, with you clutching her hand in yours as you spoke. "ay, my mijo's quite the gentleman, isn't he? he takes that after his father." rio said with a soft voice as she looked down at her hand being clutched by your own. she reminisced the happier, simpler times when miles' father was still around–when he and miles would be each other's allies when nobody else would be there for them, save for her and uncle aaron. she knows that miles still misses him like she does everyday, but to know that miles turned to be a very good, sweet, caring kid despite everything that's happened to them... it's enough to keep her heart warm.

you smiled as rio lifted her head up to face you, with slight tears in her eyes. "i guess so, but, mrs. morales... i think miles is this way because of you raising him right. and for that... thank you. thank you so much that you raised him to be the most loving, caring boy i know. no one can hold a candle to the love miles gives me and his friends, nobody is as caring as he is. i hope you know just how much he cares about you, as well, mrs. morales; not a day goes by without him worrying about you and thinking of calling you to say hi, tell him how he's doing." you said with a broad smile on your face as rio's smile fades; her mouth slightly agape as a few drops of tears fell from her eyes. you scrambled to get her a tissue from your pocket, since she hadn't wiped them away yet; oblivious to the sensation of her own falling tears at your sentimental words. "oh, no! no, no, i-it's okay, dear." she said with a smile as she wiped her tears away, sniffling the remaining ones back as her smile returned.

"i'm so glad... i'm just so glad. thank you..." she muttered as the tears came back again, but she wiped them yet again with a small chuckle as you grinned at her, sharing her happiness in that small moment when rio realized all her efforts, hard work, and everything she's ever done for her boy had paid off more than she expected it to. as miles came back with the dinner now served for all three of you, you let go of rio's hand as she nodded at you, thanking you for your assurance to her that she was doing a good job as a mother, and wrapped miles in a big hug. he was embarrassed at first since you were here, but as rio murmured to miles that she's glad the little boy she's cared for never left and remained as humble and gentle as ever, miles returned the hug and held his mother tightly.

you gazed upon the two with sheer adoration in your eyes, loving how even though this family had experienced a tragedy, how miles experienced a tragedy in his life... you were still loved wholeheartedly and endlessly by this boy, who always put those he loved first and would go beyond any and everything just to see them all smile and be happy.

tags !! @ii01vq @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy @k4tsu3 @solecitoszn @toneystank-3000 @popeheywardssecretgf @lovefrominaya @onginlove @meowmoraless @euphovlq @q2ie @zalayni @conitagray @anikaluv

[jjkeverlast]

HI LATI! CONGRATS ON YOUR MILESTONE!! CAN I REQUEST FOR PART 2 of TASTE JJK? 🥹💜 with this prompt "I have seen you naked before." OPs yn being all shy . THANKYOU 🤭

touch | jjk (m)

>> pairing jungkook x fem!reader

>> genre/au's college reunion AU | smut

>> summary jungkook finishes what he started.

>> word count 1.8k

>> warnings vmin being hilarious | dry humping | fingering | missionary | reader is a shy baby :')

>> author's note i love how you requested them to do it hfdsjhf anywho, here you have it babe. i tried my best to follow your orders! enjoy this filth 👅

[keep in mind that i do not have taglists for request, and prompts are marked in bold! thank you.]

“Where have you two been?” Taehyung questions when he notices you and Jungkook joining them after being gone for god knows how long. 

Jimin gives a side glance towards Taehyung, for him to catch on. “Oh.” Taehyung lets out, while Jimin begins to laugh loudly, clutching onto Taehyung’s form to prevent himself from falling. 

“Pay up, Kim.” Jimin says in between giggles. Taehyung rolls his eyes before he grabs onto his wallet, fetching the money they bet on. 

“You guys are ridiculous! We didn’t even fuck.” You state the obvious. It was what they bet on, so basically Taehyung doesn’t owe Jimin anything. 

“Yet.” Jungkook responds, glancing towards you with a side smirk. You slap him lightly on the chest, a sign for him to keep his mouth shut in front of the guys. 

“Well then, what are you guys still doing here? You’re more than welcome to leave. Y/N, I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” Jimin suggests, raising his eyebrows when he notices how Jungkook’s ears have turned red by the implication that you might stay the night. 

“Shut it, Park. Let’s go, Jungkook.” You’re tired of even hiding the obvious answer. To make it easier and less embarrassing for yourself, you don’t even try to hide it, grabbing Jungkook’s hand and walking towards the exit. 

Jungkook’s hand tightens around yours the further you leave from the crowd. No one bats an eye in your direction, too busy catching up with one another. 

You still can’t truly believe you’re about to go home with Jungkook. 

The car ride home to Jungkook’s is filled with laughter as you both reminisce every memory from college. One thing you both agree on is that Taehyung and Jimin have never changed, still being the iconic duo today. 

When you’ve reached his apartment, you realize it’s the first time you’ll see where he lives. Nerves were beginning to trickle, excitement mixed with nervousness as you reached the top floor. What made your mouth drop was the fact that the apartment was incredibly spacious and beautiful. Just very Jungkook. 

“Wow, your apartment is amazing.” You compliment, wandering around and noticing the small details such as the plants by the window, and the art hanging on the walls. 

“So is my bedroom actually, wanna see?” You roll your eyes. Classic Jeon Jungkook flirting way too directly to the fact it works. 

“Lead the way.” You stifle a laugh when he shows excitement, grabbing your hand again and leading you down the hallway to his bedroom. It is quite simple, just everything you need in one room with some space between the furniture. 

“I’m not as impressed as your living room.” You comment, earning a glare from Jungkook. 

“I’m offended.” He dramatizes the comment, putting a hand on his chest in shock. 

“Are you really?” 

“No.” Jungkook grabs your waist, pulling you closer till your noses brush up against each other. You’ve lost your words, mind clouded by Jungkook’s close proximity. Somehow the mood has changed from when you had a little fun in the office, now it’s more intimate. 

You blame the dimmed light by his night table and how you haven’t had sex for almost a year. You’re not scared, this is Jungkook, he’s seen more of you than anyone but the thought of it happening again grows in the pit of your stomach — butterflies. 

Jungkook seems to do better than you, taking the lead by kissing you gently. Not long after the kiss turns heated, more languid movements and tongues tasting each other. Your hold on Jungkook tightens, hands wrapped around his biceps as he steps forward until you feel yourself fall backwards onto his warm bed. 

Jungkook hovers over you, kissing you more firmly now, his hand holding onto your jaw. Your hands begin to roam onto his back, earning a smile from Jungkook before he moves downwards, peppering your neck with slow and wet kisses. Shit. How is he so good at that? 

His hands begin to slide beneath the material of your dress, pulling it upwards to expose your thighs and underwear. You gasp, overwhelmed by how good it feels to have Jungkook above you, touching as if he’ll always remember what you like. 

Despite everything feeling incredible, you’re growing shy with every action. You feel as if you’ve lost your touch from college, the crazy wild side disappearing after you finished, whereas Jungkook seems to still hold onto that. Fuck. 

It’s as if Jungkook can feel you freeze beneath him, removing his lips from your neck and now staring at you. “Are you okay?” His tone indicates he’s worried, as if he’s caught onto the wrong signal. 

“I’m okay, it’s just…” You pause, uncertain how to form it out into words without sounding ridiculous. 

Jungkook’s fingers rub against the apple of your cheeks, calming you down while he awaits your answer. 

“I haven’t had sex for over a year… So I’m just a little nervous.” Jungkook softly smiles, never stopping touching your cheek gently. 

“That’s okay, me too. Don’t think too much, Y/N.” Jungkook says to reassure you. It does help a bit, but there’s still a tiny gap that doesn’t seem to disappear. 

“I—” 

“Stop.” Jungkook breathes out, fighting your nervousness. 

“It’s not my fault you make me nervous.” You say as if it wasn’t obvious enough. 

“I make you nervous?” He sounds surprised. 

“Just a little bit…” 

“Y/N. I have seen you naked before, there’s nothing to be nervous about.” He’s not wrong, he’s seen you naked more than any of your girlfriends. 

“I know. Just– kiss me.” You demand, wanting to just push aside your nerves and focus solemnly on Jungkook. 

He obeys, kissing you again, nibbling his tongue on your bottom lip as he presses down on you. You can feel his hard on pressing onto your inner thigh. A sudden urge inside of you grows, resulting in you bucking your hips upwards to feel it press down directly onto your core. 

“Fuck–” Jungkook mumbles against your lips by the action. He removes himself, taking off his press on shirt, revealing his abs and chest. You support your body with your elbows, not caring how you’re ogling Jungkook. 

“How the fuck do you still have abs? I’m impressed.” Jungkook pauses, turning shy at your compliment. He’s not used to being praised for simply having abs. 

“I… work out?” Jungkook answers hesitantly. You smile, grabbing onto the nape of his neck, pulling him downwards. His skin feels warm beneath your touch, your hands never stopping touching every part of his chest and stomach. Which also explains how one of your hands reaches to his abdomen, trailing your fingers lightly over his belt. Not wanting to drag out the time, you start unbuckling it, while Jungkook trails kisses on your breasts over the fabric. 

Clearly, you’re both impatient. It results in Jungkook already being in his boxers, and your dress about to be pulled off. Jungkook unzips the side of your dress, the fabric starting to loosen, revealing your naked breasts. Jungkook quickens his movements, rushing to get your dress completely off to see you again. 

When the dress lands on the floor, you look away from Jungkook, too shy to look at his expression. He’s not saying anything, just staring at your exposed naked body. 

“You’re unreal.” He says in awe. You turn your head, watching how his mouth has dropped, gaze completely lost. 

“Shut up.” You cover your face. Jungkook grabs one of your wrists, removing it from your face. He places it above your head, intertwining your hands. “Don’t do that, you’re gorgeous.” He whispers. 

You’re too stunned to answer, so you settle on smiling softly. Jungkook goes back to kissing you. Your bodies align, grinding on each other until one gives out. You can feel Jungkook’s covered cock drag itself between your lips, causing a whine to escape your lips. 

You’re tired of this. Therefore your free hand trails downwards, grabbing the waistband of his boxers and pulling it down to free his cock. 

“So impatient, baby.” Jungkook jokes, even though he’s doing just as bad as you. 

“Need you to fuck me.” You say, biting down on his bottom lip. Jungkook curses under his breath before moving upwards, letting go of your hand and focusing on getting your underwear off quickly. 

With a swift pull, they land on the floor with the rest of your clothes. Jungkook pulls his boxers further down, till they reach mid thigh. He presses back down on you, his hand cupping your sex. You buck your hips, his fingers sliding with ease inside of you, filling you up and stretching you out. Even though you haven’t had sex for a whole year, your body is relaxed, no burning or aching feeling following. 

“So fucking wet, shit—” Jungkook watches his fingers disappear inside of you, covered in nothing but your slick. His thumb works itself on your clit, rubbing it gently in circles which causes you to moan. 

It’s hard to wait, because fuck, you need him. 

“Can you just—” You breathe out, moaning once more not being able to form a simple sentence. Jungkook grows hotter by just watching you looking completely fucked out, by just having his fingers inside of you. 

“Hold on, let me get a condom.” Jungkook removes himself, quickly fetching a condom from his drawer. Jungkook has never in his life put on a condom faster than he has at this very moment. He almost fails, but luckily it glides smoothly on the skin of his cock before he repositions himself. 

It starts off slow, Jungkook thrusting with ease, scared to hurt you. After thrusting gently for a while, Jungkook manages to fill you up completely. The stretch feels good, warm and full. Jungkook’s close proximity makes the situation very romantic, as he fucks you slowly, dragging out his cock almost fully before re-entering. The movements make your body tense, forgetting how good sex feels for a moment. 

“Don’t go slow, want you to fuck me.” You command, grasping onto his body. Jungkook doesn’t respond, instead he moves upwards, grabbing your hips and starts slamming harder. 

One thing about fucking an athlete, their stamina is incredible. Jungkook certainly hasn’t lost his touch, hitting your g-spot with every drag of his cock inside of you. His head tips back, groaning when he feels you clench around him. 

“Fuck, you drive me crazy.” Jungkook admits, smiling before biting down on his lip. Your back arches when Jungkook somehow manages to rub your clit, while still moving his hips in an unforgettable rhythm. 

You blame it on you not having sex for over a year, because it took Jungkook just a few minutes of fucking you, until you came undone all over him. Jungkook wasn’t no better himself, losing it right after feeling how wet you’ve become after he made you finish. 

Afterwards, Jungkook gently pulls out, landing down beside you. 

“So, about you staying the night…” Jungkook wiggles his eyebrows, knowing Jimin was right regarding seeing you first tomorrow morning. 

“Say one more thing and I’ll leave.” You threaten. 

Jungkook shakes his head, propping himself on his elbow and pecking your lips. “I’ll make breakfast tomorrow.” 

© jjkeverlast 2023 [do not copy, translate or repost any of my works.]

[deliciousangelfestival]

I have a cute one for you! Ok so Bucky’s fiancée (the reader) gives Bucky an early Christmas present when he comes home from a mission and the present is the reader’s way of telling Bucky that she’s pregnant with hers and Bucky’s first child

Take your time and have an amazing day/night!🩵

Thank you for the fluff request. I love it 😭💖💖💖. I hope you like it.🥰🎄🎄🎄🎁🎁🎁

****************

Unexpected Present, Unfolding Future

Character: Bucky x fiancee!Reader

Main Masterlist || buy me Ko-fi 🥹💓

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

The wind howled like a banshee outside, whipping snowflakes against Bucky's face as he trudged up the porch steps. His shoulders hunched, mirroring the weight of the world on his weary soul. All he craved was a hot meal, a warm bed, and the sweet oblivion of sleep.

As he fumbled with his keys, the door swung open, revealing Y/N in a festive apron, a mischievous grin splitting her face. Like a siren song, the aroma of cinnamon and gingerbread cookies lured him inside.

"Merry Christmas, my hero!" she chimed, holding out a small, suspiciously lopsided box. "Early Christmas gift for the soldier who finally decided to grace us with his presence."

Bucky raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips twitching. "Early Christmas, huh? Didn't know the holiday came early for soldiers who can't tell a gingerbread man from a landmine."

Y/N gasped, mocking, clutching her pearls. "How dare you insult my culinary prowess! These cookies are works of art, even if they do resemble abstract reindeer."

Bucky chuckled, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. He took the box, his fingers tracing the uneven wrapping job. Inside, nestled on a bed of red tissue paper, lay a pair of baby shoes knitted in the brightest blue yarn he'd ever seen. They looked like they were crafted by a squirrel with a crochet addiction.

Silence descended, broken only by the crackling fire. Then, Bucky's face broke into a grin that could rival the sun. He swept Y/N up in his arms, twirling her around until they were both dizzy and laughing.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" he teased, his voice filled with disbelief and pure joy.

Y/N grinned, her eyes sparkling like fairy lights. "Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. Maybe I just really like tiny shoes."

Bucky stared at her, a slow smile spreading across his face. He felt a warmth bloom in his chest, a feeling unlike anything he'd ever known. He was going to be a father. A wave of protectiveness washed over him, so fierce and new it took his breath away.

He held Y/N close, his metal arm gently cradling her growing belly. The warmth of the fireplace, the aroma of questionable cookies, the sound of her laughter – it all felt like coming home.

"This is the best Christmas present I could ever ask for," Bucky whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Even if the shoes look like a toddler yeti made them."

Y/N swatted him playfully. "Hey! I put a lot of effort into those abominations. And besides, who says our child can't have a unique fashion sense?"

Bucky chuckled, a true, heartfelt laugh that echoed through the room. "Of course, my love. If they want to wear mismatched socks and walk around like a tiny yeti, who am I to argue?"

The rest of the evening was a whirlwind of laughter, carols, and questionable hot cocoa that tasted suspiciously like gingerbread and burnt sugar. Bucky held the tiny baby shoes in his palm, staring at them with a reverence he didn't know he possessed.

He imagined the little feet that would fill them, the first steps, the first words. He imagined a future filled with bedtime stories, epic pillow fights, and late-night talks about everything and nothing.

As they drifted off to sleep that night, nestled together under a mountain of mismatched blankets, Bucky knew this was only the beginning of their greatest adventure.

The world outside might be cold and chaotic, but inside their little apartment, it was warm, safe, and with the promise of a future filled with love, laughter, and the occasional sartorial disaster.

As Bucky held Y/N close and felt the tiny life growing within her, he knew he would spend the rest of his life protecting them with all his heart and a healthy dose of humor. After all, a little laughter goes a long way, significantly when raising a future child together.

Author Note : Hey everyone! 🌟 Your input means the world to me.

If you've got any cool ideas or prompts, whether for this fluff series or any other series, feel free to share them with me!

Just drop them in my ASK/SEND REQUEST box.

Can't wait to hear your awesome suggestions! 🚀💬

[starleska]

HI ABSOLUTELY OBSESSED W YOUR RECENT WALLY HCS😢😭😭😭 need more If you're still taking writing requests, could you do some jealous Wally headcanons?🤭🤭🤭 he just seems like the type to be a yandere that’s obsessed w you

eeee thank you very much lovely anon!!! 🙈💖💖💖 writing these Wally headcanons is so fun!!! and ohohoho, i most certainly can. buckle up 😉 content warnings for jealous, manipulative, borderline abusive behaviour including stalking, as well as Eldritch powers and hypnosis. this is for the yandere!Wally fans! :3c

Jealous!Wally Darling x Reader headcanons

🍎 Wally's jealousy isn't overt, but he can't fool you. at first you thought it must all be in your head; that warm smile of Wally's becoming static, frozen, when aimed at your new friend who is taking up a little more of your time today than usual. yet the more time you spend with this friend, the more you find Wally's pleasant façade slipping. there's an unnerving edge to his voice when he asks, "Did you have a good time?", and his usual stimming - taps and touches with a charming, unrhythmic musicality - now sound like harsh, stinging slaps. you try to reassure Wally that you aren't replacing him, but Wally laughs a little too loud, and pretends like nothing is wrong. "I don't mind!" says Wally. "After all: I know that you're my best friend."

🍎 when Wally's jealousy increases, he takes more extreme measures - by defacing your image. you come home one day after a lovely outing with your new pal, happy but exhausted. you make your way to your bedroom, but are horrified to find the place in shambles. your drawers have been yanked out and overturned, and sheaves of paper scatter the floor like a tornado just cleaved through your window. shaking, you pick up a piece of paper...only to find it's a photograph of you and your friend, taken from a distance and without your knowledge. the photograph is scribbled over with a violent scrawl of red crayon. panicked, you pick through the other photographs, and find that every single one is ruined: angry art-marks slashing through your smiling faces. you're frightened and angry, and you go straight to Wally's Home to confront him, clutching fistfuls of photographs and trembling with the adrenaline. yet Wally looks lazily over the photos, his eyes betraying nothing. "I don't know why someone would do this," says Wally. "But whoever did sure seems to care about you."

🍎 although you try to distance yourself from Wally after that, he doesn't take well to being abandoned. one morning you're just stepping over the threshold of your home, ready to meet your friend - when you lock eyes with Wally. he's standing a short distance away, with his arms tucked politely behind his back. "Going somewhere?" Wally asks. as he does, his pupils balloon, and his eyelids peel back to reveal the full extent of his scleras. a sick wave of vertigo crashes into you, and you have to grab the doorframe to keep your balance. "No...I don't think so," you say, your voice coming out weak. "That's good," says Wally. he moves towards you, and as he gets closer, a crackling, ringing static builds on the inside of your skull, getting louder with every soft step of Wally's shoes on the grass. your brain swims through a new, impossibly dense fog, and your knees nearly give out. Wally - when did he appear at your side? - slips a hand around your waist, and guides you gently away from the sunlight and back into your living room. "I think we should spend more time together," says Wally, in a way which is not a suggestion. you find yourself nodding. of course you should. Wally's your best friend...isn't he? always fun to write a darker side to Wally - i hope you like this one 🥰

[ayyy-pee]

Walking After You

Discord 18+ - Twitter

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: This is just so unlike him. He doesn't do this, he doesn't go ghost, vanish without a trace. He never leaves you in the dark about what he's up to, where he's going or when he'll be back.

And yet, each and every call goes straight to his voice-mail, leaving you hanging on every word he says through his answering machine. 

Warnings: Major character death, grief/mourning, unanswered questions. Might cry I'm sorry, Shibuya aftermath

Art by: prawnm33

He should have come back to you. 

He promised. 

He told you he'd be right back. 

Minutes turn to hours. Hours turn to days. And days turn into weeks and you still haven't heard from your husband.

You can’t sleep, you can’t eat, you can hardly breathe without him.

He should have come back to you. 

This is just so unlike him. He doesn't do this, he doesn't go ghost, vanish without a trace. He never leaves you in the dark about what he's up to, where he's going or when he'll be back. 

And yet, each and every call goes straight to his voice-mail, leaving you hanging on every word he says through his answering machine. 

You actually haven't been able to reach anyone at his job, Jujutsu Technical School, either. You've left countless messages, meek at first, soon becoming frantic and desperate pleas for someone - anyone to call you back. You've sent emails, all polite until you reach your boiling point and spam their inbox with bodies of messages riddled with caps lock and profanity. 

But you need them to understand. They need to understand that he was supposed to come back to you. You need him to come back to you. 

You've even driven up to the school to find it barren, empty, save for a few staff who are just as lost as you when you question where everyone is. They don't appear to know a thing.

You visit his office and find it just the way he always leaves it, the photo of you and him on your wedding day sitting neatly at the center of his desk. You remember his words.

“So I have a reminder of why I do this everyday. A reminder of what I need to make it home to.”

And you bite down on your lip until you can taste the bitter, metallic tang of blood as you gently swipe away the thin film of dust beginning to cover the frame.

He should have come back to you.

You sit in his chair and you swear you can feel his presence with you as your eyes rake over his belongings. Pens neatly lined along the corner of his desk. An empty coffee mug you'd gotten him for one of your anniversaries. Books that he's yet to touch. 

You know he hasn’t touched them because he has a habit of placing a slip of paper at the top of the page he's left off and these books have none. A small film of dust is beginning to form on them and you know he hasn’t been here recently. It doesn’t appear anyone has except for you.

This place never holds any answers for you and every visit pulls you further and further into your pit of despair. So you leave empty handed.

It's only when you're home, phone in hand as you scroll through photos that you take your time to think about events of the past few weeks. 

On October 31st, 2018, you kissed your husband goodbye, smiling when he promised you he'd return shortly.

“I love you, my heart,” He told you, hand coming to hold the back of your neck as he kissed you once more. Deeply, passionately, lovingly. The way he always did. He poured all of the love he had for you into that kiss. You know it. You felt it. 

He should have come back to you.

Now you clutch your phone in your hand, eyes filled to the brim with tears and laser focused on his contact picture. Smiling a smile only reserved for you. His sharp cheekbones accentuate his beautiful features as his blonde hair sways wildly in the wind. An impromptu date to a vineyard. His idea, of course. 

He was always the planner.

Always knew what was next. Always a step ahead. 

So why hadn't he planned for this?

Your hands tremble violently as you hit the call button. Fat tears fall freely from your eyes and onto your screen as you stare at his now distorting picture. You hope above all else, he picks up this time. You hope to hear a voice that isn’t pre-recorded. You just want him to answer with a “Hi, my love”.

But it takes you straight to voice-mail. 

“You've reached Nanami Kento. Leave a message and I'll return your call shortly.”

Your sobs come uncontrollably now, wracking through your body viciously. The phone beeps, his voice-mail recording every choked cry, every plea for him to pick up just once. You're gasping for air, sputtering as you clutch at your chest. This pain is unbearable. You want answers, you want to crawl out of this darkness that's been forced upon you, but you can't.

Not until you know what happened. 

Not until you know why he never came back to you. 

[silantryoo]

kim chaewon x actress!reader (angst, fluff)

WARNINGS ; mentions of iz*one disbandment

chaewon had debuted with le sserafim the year you two were supposed to have your second anniversary. instead of celebrating like the others, she found herself stuck in her room again, watching your debut show and crying into one of your sweaters that you had forgotten to take with you.

the two of you had lost contact quickly after the disbandment, her getting sucked into her work and you trying to find something that made you happy like iz*one did, which ended up with you landing the supporting role in the hit show, twenty-five twenty-one.

of course, in support, she watched it for you (even though she didn't tell you). she just didn't expect the story to hit so close to home.

and like torture, she watched the series every time she missed you. almost like art imitating life, she watched as you tried to break up with your on-screen boyfriend, just like how you did with her. except this time, they fought for you, begging your character to just try with them.

why didn't she just do that?

sakura entered the dark room, sighing once she saw what was on screen. "chaewon, please. you're just hurting yourself more."

chaewon shook her head, burying herself further into your sweater as she watched you smile like you used to smile at her.

"why did i let her go so easily?" chaewon whispered, her eyes moving to sakura's figure. "why did i even agree?"

sakura approached the younger girl, sitting down on her messy bed. she always had suspicions about you two back during iz*one. part of her wished that she found out then, when you both were happy, instead of now.

"it's not your fault." the older girl tried to comfort her.

"yes, it is!" chaewon felt her dry eyes start to tear up again. "it's my fault because i didn't fight for her at all! she was always thinking about my dreams first. why couldn't i just tell her that this wasn't my only dream?"

chaewon clutched onto the last thing she had of you desperately as if she was terrified to let that piece of you go. her sobs came spilling out as sakura rubbed her back gently. this was supposed to be one of the happiest moments of her life, but everything in her body ached.

she had given up her biggest dream to pursue another.

"what do i do?" chaewon looked up, her face wet with tears.

sakura pursed her lips, moving the younger girl's bangs out of her face. "i don't know."

chaewon looked at the screen to find you crying. she would do anything to get you back. she just wanted one more chance to fight for you, to show you that you were her priority as much as she was yours.

you were definitely going to kill jang wonyoung the next time you saw her.

you didn't care if the younger girl had a schedule she needed to attend to. you hated schedules like this. actually, you hated hosting in general. you had no idea why she had suggested you to her producer when you had no prior experience in hosting.

now, you were standing at the interview booth for musicbank beside enhyphen's sunghoon and worst of all, le sserafim.

you shuffled around awkwardly, ignoring the obvious looks that the entire group of girls were giving you, especially chaewon.

it hurt to look at the girl you loved. it was hard thinking that you had made a mistake, letting her go so easily, but you knew it was better for her this way.

was it better for you as well? absolutely not.

you found yourself crying in your roommate's arms (by roommate, you meant yena refused to stay in her apartment), asking her if you did the right thing by letting go of the one person who truly made you feel like yourself. she had even learned how to cook because she was so worried about you.

part of you wondered if yena had told wonyoung (she probably did, and you were probably going to kill her later too).

the interview went on fairly smoothly, chaewon trying her best not to look at you as she spoke. with a few jokes here and there, and the script making sunghoon call you his 'ideal type' (chaewon was not a fan), it ended quickly. you and sunghoon bowed at the girl group, your eyes meeting chaewon's.

oh, you both thought. she still looks beautiful.

you send her a small smile. a real smile that showed her that maybe she still had a chance.

she swallowed, stuck in her place before realizing she was on camera. trying her best to laugh it off, she bowed to sunghoon before walking off-screen.

she was sure she had a chance, and she wasn't going to screw it up. not this time.

you sat quietly in front of your vanity, your head leaning back as you took a deep breath in. you looked around, the room was deserted except for yourself. your manager had gone to fetch you food, and the rest of your crew was on their break.

it was the perfect time to get your head together.

less than a minute after, you heard a light, hesitant knock on the door.

thinking that it was your manager with an armful of food, you opened it only to be met with your old member.

"chaewon-ie"

"y/n." she fiddled with the cuffs of her jacket as she entered the room. you closed the door behind her. "hey."

you stood in front of the door, hearing your heart beat out of your chest, something you were familiar with whenever she was around.

"what are you doing here?" you asked, eyeing the girl.

chaewon's mind went blank. it was the first time in months that you two were truly alone. she suddenly felt like she couldn't speak.

"nothing, i, uh, i just wanted to see you." chaewon cleared her throat, almost as if she was taking back her words. "how you were doing, i mean."

i missed you so much, she wanted to say.

you looked down at your shoes. part of you wished she was here for more than a friendly check-in, but you knew that wasn't the case. still, it didn't hurt to day dream.

"i'm doing good." you looked back up, nodding to yourself. "how about you?"

she looked down at your lips, quickly looking back up to you. "i am too. i mean, i just debuted."

you lightly smiled, obviously trying to hold down how proud you were of her. "congratulations."

both you and chaewon stared at each other, the ambiance of outside filling the silence of the room within. you watched as she nervously picked on the skin of her thumb, a habit she developed close to the end of the panorama era.

you take a good look at her face. it was still the same chaewon, but she was different somehow. a good different.

"i saw you, on tv." she spoke up, startling you slightly ('i couldn't stop thinking of you'). you felt a blush spread across your face. "you're a great actress."

she watched as your smile turned into a familiar, more bashful one, one that she would see when she gave you praise after a tough day at practice.

every inch of her missed you.

"thank you." you said softly, chaewon's eyes meeting with yours ('i was thinking of you, too'). "you're a great idol."

chaewon swallowed. "thank you."

the two of you wait for the other to say something, an awkward tension filling up the room. what you didn't know was that chaewon had been waiting for this very moment for the past two weeks.

"i should go." you laughed awkwardly, glancing at the clock which showed that you had forty-five minutes left. "i need to be on stage soon and—"

"i never wanted things to end between us." chaewon stared at you as if she was challenging you.

you felt the air escape from your lungs.

"what?" ('what?')

"i know you thought that it was a good thing. that i could focus on my career without any distractions. that i could finally reach my dreams again after losing you guys." she started, her mouth spewing out what she had really felt ever since then. "but it wasn't what i wanted. it was never what i wanted."

you stared at her, finding it hard to speak all of a sudden. a spark of hope lit inside your chest, but you quickly push it down. the two of you decided this together.

you frowned. "chaewon—"

"you never asked me if i wanted to break up." she interrupted, much more desperate this time ('i still love you'). "you only asked if it was a good idea."

"you said yes."

"i did. but it didn't mean that i didn't want to try." chaewon gripped her jacket tighter, taking a deep breath. she can't cry now, not yet. "if i knew that i would lose you, i would have never said it."

you took a deep breath in ('i never stopped loving you'). "i was just thinking of you."

chaewon frowned as you looked away, wiping your eyes gently so as to not smug your makeup. it took everything in her to not wipe your tears away.

"but was that what you wanted? for us to break up?" chaewon stared at you, her voice cracking. she could feel tears starting to fall. "look into my eyes."

you slowly turn your head, your breath hitching. even when she was crying, she always looked beautiful.

you tried to reason out. "but it was good for you—"

"i don't care if you think it's good for me! i know what's good for me." she shouted at you, her breathing getting harder ('listen to me'). "i know you're good for me."

you blinked away your tears, looking straight into the older girl's eyes. with barely a whisper, you said, "i don't know what you want me to do, chaewon."

"can," chaewon inhaled sharply. this was it. "can we be us again?"

you exhaled sharply, feeling your stomach flutter. you couldn't deny that you've dreamt of this many times before, wishing for a way that the two of you could work in an industry like this.

but you needed to be honest with yourself.

('i want to'). "chaewon, i don't think—"

"i can make it work! we can." she begged, her tears now falling like waterfalls. she grabbed your hand gently, afraid that you might pull away. you didn't. "i'm not letting the best thing in my life go without a fight."

she watched as you stared at her, clearly in an internal battle with yourself. she knew that you were more of a realist that she ever would be, but that didn't matter to her.

what mattered to her was you.

"please, y/n. i love you." she begged, holding your hand tighter. "i've loved you since i saw you in the practice room at four in the morning, crying because you got into class a instead of the others. and i haven't stopped since."

you could feel yourself crying, not caring that you ruined your makeup. you could feel yourself no longer caring that it might not work, but hoping it would.

"i've loved you since i've first met you." the shorter girl continued. she wiped your tears away gently. "please, just let us try again."

you didn't care anymore. you wanted it as much as she wanted you.

"okay." you nodded, feeling relief spread all over your body. it was the right choice. it felt right.

being with her felt right.

she gasped sharply, blinking away the lingering tears in her eyes.

"okay?" chaewon looked at you with big eyes, the same ones that you've loved all this time. "really?"

you nodded once more before she pulled you into a desperate kiss. she still tasted the same, like everything you've dreamt of and more. her hands found it's way to the back of your neck as she held you like you were about to disappear. you felt like your body was on fire, yet somehow you were able to breathe again.

you wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling her in as close as possible.

after what seemed like minutes, the two of you pulled away. you smiled at each other, chaewon still wiping the tears that continued to fall from your face. this time, however, it was out of happiness.

she gives you a quick peck on the lips, something that she used to be too shy to do.

you laughed, making her look at you weirdly. "you're much more confident now, huh?"

i can't wait to get to learn you again, you thought, looking into her eyes.

"do you like it?" chaewon asked, quickly looking at your lips again.

she winced, realizing that your (and her) lipstick had been smudged. chaewon scolded herself in her head for forgetting that the two of you were still at musicbank.

"i love it." you leaned down, kissing her softly. "i love you."

chaewon truly smiled for the first time in months. "i love you too."

> main masterlist.

[vintageshanny]

Ode to Little Elvis

This is exactly what it sounds like - a love poem for my favorite package! 😍 When I first read about Elvis feeling embarrassed or self-conscious about certain body parts, I felt compelled to express to him in whatever way I could that he is so beautiful and I would not change a thing. I hope that it is clear that my intention is not to just objectify his body; even a poem like this is borne of a love so deep that I find it hard to even articulate it at times. ❤️

Your body is absolutely perfect to me, an exquisite work of art

But right now I’d like to focus in on one specific part

The part that drives so many of us crazy with each thrust and gyration

The part we refer to as Little Elvis with affection and adoration

How little or big he actually is, we’ll never really know

But I appreciate so very much each time he put on his own show

The way he stood halfway to attention when you danced in Girls Girls Girls

And flopped thickly against your thigh in Frankie and Johnny probably made some clutch their pearls

Your little swim shorts could barely contain him and his two friends in their proper place

And you’d think water would make him shrink but that didn’t seem to be the case

I wish so badly I could see him in person and admire his beauty up close

I’d take him in as deep as I could until your patch of hair tickled my nose

From the tip all the way down to his fuzzy base and balls, I’d explore and massage him with my tongue

Never letting up on taking care of him until you called out in ecstasy and I could taste your cum

To consume him with my body would be a feeling so divine

I’d do anything to please him and make sure that he knows his pleasure is also mine

I know you felt shy and nervous sometimes about his ability to please

But whenever he wanted to be loved on, baby, I’d get down on my knees

I’d press sweet kisses all over him and warm him to the core

And in case I haven’t made it clear yet, that foreskin makes me love him even more

To roll it gently back and see his sensitive head peeking out would be so inviting

And I think it’s sweet the times he couldn’t last long because things just got too exciting

While others may have made you feel like there’s some other way you’re supposed to be,

You’d never have to feel self-conscious making yourself vulnerable to me

Health issues and medication took their toll on his ability to function some of the time

But I’d continue to shower him with all the affection he deserved even if he couldn’t respond in kind

I’d stroke him and kiss him and tell him that he’s amazing in any state

Whether he’s resting or ready for action, I will always love and appreciate

No matter his size or ability to rise, to me he is perfect like every other part

Not because of how he looks or the way he performs, but because he belongs to a man I love with all my heart

Poetry tag list: @lookingforrainbows @ellie-24 @be-my-ally @thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @arrolyn1114

[modelbus]

Heyy! Could you do Wilbur x artist!reader dating hcs because a musician and an artist? I feel like Y/N like Wilbur makes so much art of him to the point she actually probably made one of their lovejoy posters!! And Wil would teach Y/N guitar and Y/N teach Wil how to draw and its so SDHDSGJ

I'm an artist and I think this would be cute! Hope you can answer this ask <3

- 🍄anon :D

I’m not an artist myself, but my two artist friends came in clutch here!

Pairing: Cc!Wilbur x Gn!Artist!Reader

Adored Artist

Idle drawings of Wilbur completely fill your sketchbook. Him playing guitar. Him sitting there. A specific doodle of him with a large forehead— for the joke.

The two of you tend to sit together without talking. You drawing, him creating Melodies and lyrics.

Getting showered in compliments.

He talked about decorating his guitar once, and you drew nothing but guitar designs for the next week.

His callouses and your graphite-stains are jokingly called “battle wounds” together.

When Wilbur buys you art supplies as gifts, he is painfully meticulous in making sure the supplies are good and ones you like.

Him peering over your shoulder to see what you’re working on, always delighted when it’s something related to him. Whether that be a simple guitar sketch for practice, or actually him.

And 100% yes he’d be yoinking your drawings to use for Lovejoy or merch reasons.

“Hey Love, remember that drawing you did the other night?” He asked, leaning against the couch where you’re curled up with a sketch pad. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, Wil.” You had laughed, finishing part of the sketch and looking up at him. He laughs too, leaning down to kiss you. “The one with the Lovejoy mascots. And our skull.” He had elaborated for you. Your eyes had lit up, flipping to the page for him. “Yes! That one. I was thinking, maybe it’d be cool to use as a design for merch?”

You couldn’t believe it, that he actually wanted to use your drawings. But, when you realized he was serious, you jumped at the chance.

(He insisted on paying you for it, too, even though you assured him you were perfectly happy giving him the designs. For two weeks you played a game where you passed the money back and forth until you gave up and just accepted it)

He doesn’t shut up about you or your talents ever. Met someone new? He’s pulling out his phone to share your art. Saw someone online talking about art? He’s tagging you to say you’re the best artist ever.

Teaching each other <333

Wilbur had made a small comment, and you jumped on it.

”I wish I could draw like that. You’re so talented, you’re incredible.” “I can teach you.” “What?”

Did not go well at all.

“Imagine that the light is here, okay? So you have to shade where shadows would be, making it darker there.” You explained patiently, gently tapping the areas you’re talking about.

“Shadows. Darker. Shading.” Wilbur repeated, looking up at you. You were leaning on him, your head on his shoulder to see his drawing. A very… admirable attempt at you.

“Go for it.” You encouraged, and he blinked.

“What?”

“…Were you listening?”

“Of course I was, love.” But the way he had leaned in to kiss you—to distract you—certainly said otherwise.

Since you “made” him draw, he convinced you to learn how to play guitar.

You protested (secretly loving the idea of learning from him) but in the end he got you to agree.

Sitting on his lap, his arms wrapped around you to help you form the chord shapes. It’s cozy, and you’re absolutely failing.

“This is a G—“ “My fingers don’t do that, Wil!”

In the end, it turns into him playing a song for you. But only after you manage to make that G chord, finger pain be damned.

He loves putting up your art on the walls. Taped.

[dreamsclock]

“So let me get this straight,” Techno deadpans, face perfectly straight, “you’re layin’ eggs.”

( HAPPY VERY BELATED CHRISTMAS @kenjo-arts !!! you wanted emeraldduo and dream interactions or one of your aus so i combined both ^_^ i Hope You like it AND THANK YOU FOR BEING SO PATIENT. I LOVE U <333)

(THANK YOU @the-final-sif FOR RUNNING YHIS :])

Dream scowls. Under the glare and the shadow of his mask, his face is flushed. “Look,” he says, “I’m not— I didn’t even want to tell you. But–”

“But you did,” Philza jumps in, bemused, “I don’t really get why, though.”

If looks could kill, both members of the Syndicate would be dead thrice over. Instead, they remain unaffected as Dream’s cheeks turn warm enough to fry an egg – bad choice of words, Techno thinks, all things considered. He sure hopes Dream doesn’t actually fry his eggs: he really doesn’t want to get into the logistics of egg-infanticide with his dubious ally-turned-bestie.

Said bestie, however, is pulling out a clutch of eggs he holds protectively to his chest as if he expects Techno and Philza to snatch them away and begin jumping on them in malicious glee. When Philza moves closer in curiosity, Dream has a sword out before either of them can blink, unwavering and firm.

Philza raises his hands in surrender and lets out a little clucking noise. Techno thinks it’s supposed to be soothing. It sort of just sounds like a chicken. “Easy, mate,” he reassures, “I’m just looking. They’re pretty.”

“Obviously,” Dream says, half-preening, “they're mine.”

And they are pretty, Techno supposes, not that he cares much about eggs. They’re pale green and freckled with darker shades, five of them huddled in Dream’s arms. It’s impossible to tell what will hatch from them, though he sure isn’t thinking too hard about it. He’ll find out in due time, probably: one of them already has feather-light cracks speckling its side, while the others are pristine, unmoving.

…He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Dream so proud and protective over something of his before. He can’t decide if this is positive character development or not.

“I… wanted you guys to… like, hold onto them for me. For now.” Dream looks uncertain, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. In the pale light of the snow, his face is pale and drawn. “I will… come and get them. After tomorrow is over.”

“You mean the shit you’re pulling with Tommy.” Philza surmises, his expression flattening and tightening just slightly. He’s not forgotten the state Tommy had come to them in after exile: neither has Techno, who notices the way Dream’s shoulders straighten and his face grows deliberately impassive, when Philza’s anger makes itself known in the shape of one ruffling wing. “That’s tomorrow, isn’t it?”

“...Yeah, it is.” Dream allows, and says nothing more about his plans or his thoughts on the matter. Instead, he very gently and very carefully wraps the eggs in a blanket, swaddling the five of them so that only the tips of them are visible, before handing them over to Techno. His expression tightens into one of wistful yearning for a fraction of a second, before it disappears entirely behind that white porcelain mask. “I can’t take them with me, and… I don’t have any other allies. So. You know. We’re not exactly friends, but… I can pay you for it.”

Techno wants, for a wild moment, to pry the mask from his face and unearth Dream’s feelings about the eggs. His kids, he supposes.

He doesn’t do anything so lame or uncharacteristic. Rather than that, he accepts the bundle of eggs, handling them carefully, and– oh god, he cringes when one of them wiggles inquisitively. They’re warmer than he’d thought, thrumming with a quiet energy he faintly recognizes from the deepest, most inner parts of the server: which makes sense, considering they’re eggs from the admin of the SMP. Expecting anything less than slightly magical is dumb.

The aforementioned admin of the SMP shifts from foot to foot. He looks like he might grab the eggs back and make a run for it.

Taking pity on him, Techno clasps the bundle a little more securely, and offers his ally a firm nod and shrug. “Ehh, don’t worry about paying,” he says easily, “I just re-retired. I could do with somethin’ occupying my time. Even if it is five eggs.”

Philza squawks a laugh. “Never took you for a babysitter,” he teases, even as Dream relaxes fractionally, “what a career change. Never would’ve expected it.”

Techno shoots his friend a mock-glare. “I’ll have you know I have the credentials,” he says, haughtily, “you should’ve seen me before the Empire, Phil. You should’ve seen me. I was the pinnacle of babysitting, man. The pinnacle.”

“I bet.”

Dream whispers to you: so you’ll look after them for me??

When he turns to Dream, the man isn’t looking at him. He’s toying with the edge of his cloak, gloved fingers thin and shallow, and that’s when Techno realizes with a terrible clarity that Dream doesn’t plan on coming back for a long, long time.

His grip on the eggs tighten.

He’s hardly paternal, but he is loyal, to a fault.

You whisper to Dream: you have my word

And when Dream pearls away, leaving Techno with five eggs and a wonkily hand-stitched blanket, he knows it’s the last time they’ll see each other like this.

***

“Do you still have them?” Dream croaks in prison, throat slick with blood and voice hoarse from screaming. Techno wonders how long it’ll last before it gives out completely. Wonders if Dream’s voice might disappear entirely overnight. He barely uses it anymore.

“The eggs?” Techno asks, and his lips press when Dream nods. “I mean, not— not with me, Dream. Listen, I’m no Dad Of The Year, but I know not to bring five hatching eggs into a prison, alright. Jeez.”

Dream misses the rest of his ramble. His eyes light up for the first time when Techno speaks. “Hatching?” He repeats, as if he hardly believes his own words. “Like— You mean hatching hatching. Actually hatching.”

“No, no, the fake hatching.” Techno can’t keep the amused grin off his face despite his sarcasm. “I mean, they were pretty cracked when I left for here. They’re not about to start dancin’ around, but there’s not long now. Probably.”

The expression on Dream’s face is one he’s never seen before. It’s strange, wild. Hopeful.

“Okay,” his ally-turned-friend says, “okay. My eggs are hatching. So we’ve gotta get out of here.”

The firm tone is a switch from the hollow desperation he’d yelled at him before. (You were my only way out of here!) There’s determination, now, there’s reason to escape: reason, Techno knows now, for Dream to fight.

So he pushes an empty book across the scorch-marked obsidian to Dream, and offers a nod and an instruction. “Write down everything you can about this prison, Dream. I’m gonna need it if we’re breakin’ out of here.”

Dream flashes him an almost-grin, and it’s thin and exhausted and bright, and Techno watches him pick up the pen, and start to write.

***

“So.”

Dream doesn’t even look up from his dead-eyed staring contest with the wall. He just flips his middle finger in Techno’s vague direction, a silent shut up, before letting his arm fall limply at his side again.

“Soooo.”

Dream’s eye twitches. “So what?”

“I feel like we should discuss naming rights.”

“We— what?”

“Well,” Techno reasons, “it’s kind of joint custody of the eggs at this point. Sure, you birthed them—”

“That’s not how—”

“You birthed them, but I stopped Steve from eatin’ them. And believe me, that was a hard task, Dream. Almost impossible. Steve put up a valiant fight. He almost had them.”

That gets Dream’s attention. Eyes narrowing, mouth thinning into an annoyed scowl, he shuffles closer to Techno. Techno gets the impression he’s supposed to feel intimidated by Dream’s pout. “You let my eggs near a polar bear?” He demands, horror in his voice. “Techno. Seriously.”

“You remembered,” Techno beams, “you remembered Steve. Listen, you say we’re not friends, but this feels pretty friendly. I dunno. I’m just saying.”

“This— That’s not the point!”

“But no, I didn’t.Like I said, I won the battle. Steve fought hard, but I won. Good thing I’d been trainin’ so much recently. Any less and I think the eggs would’ve been breakfast.”

Dream’s eye twitches. “I don’t know why I even trusted you with them,” he mutters, antsy, “anything could happen to them.”

Techno scoffs, and offers Dream a trustworthy, reassuring look. “Dream, do I look like the kind of guy to let anything bad happen to your children?”

Dream stares dubiously back. “Yeah,” he says, “you do.”

…That doesn’t hurt his feelings, nope, not at all. He shoots his friend a pensive look. “When I get home, I’m gonna give your eggs to Philza,” he threatens, “he’ll put them in his nest. Don’t push me.”

“…You wouldn’t.”

“I would. Pass me another potato, nerd.”

The potato Dream throws at him bounces against his arm and clatters on the floor next to a splatter of blood. Techno wrinkles his nose. “Dude,” he says, “prison is lame.”

“Keep the eggs far away from Philza’s nests,” Dream warns, “or prison will get worse for you.”

***

You whisper to Philza: btw where are the eggs right now

Philza whispers to you: Why

You whisper to Philza: just answer the question phil

You whisper to Philza: where are the eggs right now

Philza whispers to you: They’re not in my fucking nest

You whisper to Philza: phil

Philza whispers to you: I’m taking them out of my nest and putting them back

Techno breathes a sigh of relief, and glances over at a fitfully sleeping Dream. “Crisis averted,” he mutters out loud, and then, “Chat, don’t be snitches. What Dream doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.”

***

And Techno’s not hurt when the eggs are the first thing Dream checks when he gets to the Syndicate. Pft, why would he be? It’s not like he’s the one that helped free him or anything, nah, course not.

“All I’m saying,” he grumbles to a cackling Philza, “is that the eggs didn’t sit in prison for three months with him. I’m not jealous, Phil. I’m not jealous. That would be crazy. They’re eggs. Not even that cool. But—”

“For fuck’s sake,” his friend laughs at him, “go inside and show him where his eggs are. He’ll be tearing the house apart looking for them.”

And Philza’s right. Dream is already pulling the chests apart searching for his eggs, as if Techno hadn’t stored them somewhere safer the very moment he’d escaped Pandora’s Vault the first time.

“Where are they?” Dream demands.

Techno nods to the wall. “I’ve been callin’ it the Baby Backrooms.” He says, proudly. “Though it’s kind of more of a Baby Hideout. Doesn’t sound as cool, though.”

A couple of swift strokes with his pickaxes tears open the wall, and reveals four large eggs, cracked but safe, huddled together in the corner of a light blue room. Dream’s gaze softens when he sees them, and steps inside, narrowly missing the bedtime story Techno’s been reading them most nights. Sun Tzu isn’t light reading, but hey, Techno’s determined to make incredible battle strategists of them yet. One of the eggs likes it the most: it wriggles whenever he pulls the book out, and he hates playing favourites, but he has to say, he’s got the most faith in that one.

“I’m back,” Dream breaks the silence to say to his eggs, kneeling down beside them and gently tracing the thick fractures along the curve of the darkest green one, “hey, hi, hi! Did you miss me?”

Techno doesn’t point out that eggs can’t talk for two reasons. The first is that he thinks Dream might actually murder someone if his moment with the eggs is disturbed. The second, slightly more alarming reason is that one of the eggs are missing.

When he’d left the room before, there had been five eggs in that room. The four now aren’t exactly inspiring him with confidence. Dream is really going to kill him if he’s lost a whole egg in the space of, like, four hours.

Dream scoops up the eggs, and turns to face Techno. There’s a look of relief on his face that’s so raw and unfiltered that it takes Techno a moment to recognise what he’s seeing. It’s like a part of Dream that had been missing during prison has been returned to him: Techno realizes with a pang that that’s exactly the case.

“I have a question,” Niki chimes in from behind them, “I have lots of questions.”

When Techno turns, she’s holding a tiny miniature version of… Dream himself.

“Mama,” it squeaks, reaching out to Dream, “Mama.”

Dream melts, right there and then.

***

“So… you laid this.”

Even someone blessed with the patience of a saint would have snapped by now. Dream, who is neither blessed nor patient, seems to be on the verge of murder someone: specifically, Tommy, who hasn’t stopped asking questions since he’d appeared at Techno’s door with questions. Four months had been enough time to solve the conflict between the server (…mostly), but it seems like Tommy’s boundaries don’t include tiny little green blobs like Dream’s newly hatched eggs running about the SMP.

“I already told you,” Dream says, “I didn’t lay them. They just appeared as eggs.”

“So you… make eggs,” Tommy says, “and then you like, you black out, and then you like wake up and find the eggs. Egg amnesia. Egg-nesia.”

Dream very visibly counts to ten in his head. Techno can’t stop himself from smirking and joining in.

“Yeah, Dream, I’m not gettin’ the science behind this whole thing,” he drawls, “can you explain it again?”

“You—” Dream splutters. A tiny version of himself with a green cloak travels by on one of the dogs, and throws himself into Dream’s arms. Dream cradles him absentmindedly. “We live in a world with a revive book and a randomly implemented three life system, and you’re confused about eggs?”

“I get it,” Tubbo says wisely, “sometimes every man reaches an age where he must lay an egg.”

“…That’s… actually not true,” Dream says, “most people don’t produce eggs randomly from thin air.”

“Who did you produce them with?” Tommy asks. “Was it George Not Found? Oh, that’s so weird. You’ve made it weird, Dream.”

“How have I made it weird? I—” Cutting himself off, Dream’s head perks up. “Hang on,” he says, “Philza’s trying to take one of my new eggs.”

Tommy’s face drops into total stupefaction. “It happened again?!” He demands. “When will the horror end?”

“What is wrong with you?” Dream groans, pushing himself to his feet and very carefully handing over his baby to Techno. “Look after Ray for me. I swear to God, if Philza is building a nest around my eggs again…”

He doesn’t finish his threat. Nevertheless, his warnings of violence are clear. Techno silently wishes Philza luck, and shifts his hold so that he’s juggling both the baby and the book in his other hand.

“I still think we should think about naming one of your eggs after me,” he says, “I was such a great babysitter. That’s why they turned out so great.”

Dream, halfway out the room, turns slowly, and gives him a very incredulous look.

“You think you were a good babysitter? So you think letting my babies play with Steve was a good idea?”

“They didn’t die,” Techno protests. “They were fine.”

“There comes a time where every man must fight a polar bear.” Tubbo says solemnly

“Tubs,” Tommy tells him, “that’s just not true. Wilbur just told you that because I wanted to see you be mauled horrifically by a bear.”

“Oh.”

“You could call one baby Blade,” Techno calls over Tubbo and Tommy. Dream laughs. “It’s not very creative, and a little hurtful, but hey, it sounds pretty cool, alright, it sounds pretty awesome. Or— Tech. I’d be fine with Tech.”

“I’m not naming a baby after you.”

Dream rolls his eyes as he walks out, but there’s a grin on his face.

You whisper to Dream: can i at least be godfather

Dream whispers to you: only if you gaslight tommy into thinking he was an egg once

You whisper to Dream: you drive a hard bargain

You whisper to Dream: it’s a deal

“Hey Tommy,” Techno calls out, “you remember being an egg? I still have pictures of you somewhere from before you were hatched.“

The look of absolute horror on Tommy’s face is priceless, and the knowledge of the title godfather makes him grin all the brighter.

[vickyvicarious]

ooooh, I love Patrick Hennessey's voice!

Renfield getting possessive over Dracula... or possibly just recognizing that the boxes being taken away means Dracula might leave too, and he wants to prevent that.

kfjsldf Renfield is so good at managing the staff here. politely gaslighting them to believe he's oblivious to his own actions then escaping

OHkay the dull thuds were quite awful when he's slamming the guy's head into the ground

"you know I'm no lightweight" between this and Seward knocking Renfield off with one punch I now find myself imagining them like. wrestling each other for fun or something at least once. (jack would have gotten very bisexual about it and then refused to look dr. hennessey in the face for days probably)

"'I'll frustrate them! They shan't rob me! they shan't murder me by inches! I'll fight for my Lord and Master!'" I love how rough his voice sounds here, so different from usual. Also the murder me by inches is such a vivid and bleak way to describe being deprived of the chance at supernatural life.

sorry for your finger, Hardy

YES, the first of the very thirsty men who are suddenly more relaxed when given a drink. it's so funny

but really, Hennessey managed that very well. his quick smoothing over and attention to detail could be really helpful if anyone decided to sue them or something over this.

the phonograph noises at the beginning of Jack's entry at first made me think they were at the end of Hennessey's report, and it would be very funny if Jack insisted on getting his report in phonograph form. That, or Hennessey just wanted to take the chance to see what all the fuss was about.

...and then Jack started speaking and all amusement was lost. God, he's wrecked.

the stop and scoff before "too miserable" GODDDD

"the flapping of the wings of the angel of death" yeah he's been flapping a lot the bastard

but really, the way Jack lists them off, so bitterly, damn it's horrible

is he drinking? or trying to keep from crying? I mean he's definitely doing that either way but

the shake on "we must not all break down"

van Helsing speaking SO GENTLY to Arthur, auuugh

"You shall lie on one, and I on the other, and our sympathy will be comfort to each other, even though we do not speak, and even if we sleep." this is so sweet, I can't believe I'd forgotten about it

"in this room, as in the other," of course, it makes sense not to keep Lucy in her own bedroom, where the windows are shattered and where her mother died... but I wonder where she is. Did I miss a line about it somewhere? A part of me imagines Mrs. Westenra's room, which would mean they both die in one another's beds. :(

NOT THE TEETH

"Her teeth, in the dim, uncertain light, seemed longer... and sharper than they had been in the morning. In particular - by some trick of the light, the canine teeth looked... longer... and sharper than the rest." he repeats 'longer and sharper' twice, and especially the second time sounds so... nearly fascinated. It reminds me of Jonathan describing Dracula.

"there came a sort of dull flapping or buffeting at the window" there he is, the flappy asshole. angel of death himself.

"It struck me as curious that the moment she became conscious she pressed the garlic flowers close to her. It was certainly odd that whenever she got into that lethargic state, with the stertorous breathing, she put the flowers from her; but that when she waked she clutched them close." SHE'S TRYING. GOD I WANNA CRY

van Helsing's fear and despair is so well conveyed. and when he spends several minutes staring at her and then sounds so calm - he is determined.

"I went to the dining-room and waked him." the way Jack says this line is just. brutal.

I CAN'T LISTEN TO ART BREAK DOWN THIS IS GONNA DESTROY ME

the saddest "my dear old fellow" in the world

brushing Lucy's hair... I love that this makes Jack cry, because it makes me cry too.

ffffuck her shaky greeting to Arthur.

so I was talking a little bit ago about how Jack seems to distance himself unconsciously and start referring to Lucy as a thing whenever she is in more vampiric mode, and I love to hear it reflected in his voice here too. He goes from being so choked up with emotion to sounding almost cold as he says "the mouth opened,"

and he sounds so disturbed when he calls her eyes "dull" and her voice "voluptuous"

oh no oh no that "oh my love " is SO DAMN SINISTER art don't do it don't do it. like damn, I can't even make a joke about van helsing playing chaperone I'm just thankful that he's there!

it's not like being a vampire is transferrable through saliva or anything anyway but. she sounded so scary there.

Jack's delivery about van Helsing pulling Arthur back from the kiss was so funny. He sounds so incredulous: "dragged him back with a fury of strength which I never thought he could have possessed," van Helsing may joke about him being bitchless but Jack was here thinking he was a frail old man so who's laughing now. (van Helsing. definitely still van Helsing.)

van Helsing's panting!

art, bless him, choosing not to get into a fight over his fiance's deathbed. (the way Jack's voice gets rough on "and the occasion" uggggh)

god, Lucy's voice makes me so sad. that final "and give me peace"......

"Their eyes met instead of their lips; and so they parted." THIS LINE.

nooooooo don't make me listen to Art cry fuck it's breaking me

the music while Jack is talking about there being peace for Lucy is so ominous!!! also I love the way he is so clearly trying so hard to stay composed and say something nice and look on the bright side if only a little... and then van Helsing has to be mysterious and ominous and ruin that for him too

van Helsing Barbie strikes again

"only some letters and a few memoranda, and a diary new begun." those last few words are so sad. She never got to do more than just begin her diary. She never got to even begin her new life before it was taken away from her.

"we both started at the beauty before us," Beautiful Corpse Jumpscare

"He had not loved her as I had, and there was no need for tears in his eyes." I get how you feel but that's pretty dang rude, Jack. He's told you that he loves her and wanted to save her. He already cried for her once.

kjdsfljksdf THE DELIVERY of "I want to cut off her head and take out her heart." and. no DUH he's shocked, vH! don't go acting like this is typical surgeon behavior/reaction. omg.

and then that sigh and 'kind' concession that 'all you have to do is help me cut off her head that's all'

I fucking love the delivery of "no good to her, to us, to science, to human knowledge"

"I may err—I am but man; but I believe in all I do." the way his voice almost wavers on the word 'believe'. Not out of doubt, but emotion.

"and she kiss my rough old hand and bless me?" the way he says this line... he was so affected by her trust in him and her final request. he feels honored and burdened both.

Jack being so emotional about the maid grieving for Lucy... and me sitting there knowing that she's in there to steal from Lucy. (or at least, she does even if it's not why she went in)

mr. marquand! you are a decent guy, thank you for trying to look out for Lucy's interests. anyone who tries to give her agency is good in my book. even if your rejoicing is in. rather poor taste. (Jack's laugh at that is great!)

Art bringing Jack in with him is so sweet, god, god, his crying.... THE WAY HE SAYS JACK'S NAME. THE WAY HE SAYS THERE'S NOTHING TO LIVE FOR

Jack's line about men only needing "a grip of the hand, the tightening of an arm over the shoulder, a sob in unison," was already ridiculous but the way says it like he's trying so hard to convince himself

I hit the bulletpoint character limit. Wow.

Anyways the delivery is so stiff-upper-lip-this-is-fine, it's great. especially as the further into the line he gets the more you can hear him trying not to sob as well.

THE SADDEST SMOOCH NOISES

the way Art reacts to being called 'Lord'. ""No, no, not that, for God's sake! not yet at any rate." he sounds so desperate, the POOR MAN

and the way he is taking deep breaths while talking to van Helsing. He is working so fucking hard to be kind and try and make things easier and get through this without lashing out at anyone. I love him so much.

and van Helsing immediately follows up with "I stole your dead girlfriend's letters, can I keep them?" I KNOW he feels bad about it and he feels it is necessary and everything but. damn okay.

NOT A LULLABY NOOOOOOOOOO

GOD THAT'S SO SAD. DO NOT COME INTO THE NIGHT DO NOT GO TO SLEEP MY DEAR :( :( oh how dare you with that line about eternal life/shine so bright" AND TAKE MY BITE NOOOOOOO