#I never tried doing colored back lighting like that and it’s definitely not perfect but it looks p cool!!

[samaraxmorgan]

You can’t see it but he’s wearing Doc Martens

More than welcome to repost with credit!!

[zee-143]

~𝙵𝚊𝚗!𝚂𝚔𝚣 𝚡 𝙸𝚍𝚘𝚕! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜~

♡A/N: This is what won the polls so this is what I'll write. Also ty to everyone who likes my content. I have other fics coming up so stay tuned and hope you enjoy this one❤❤ Skz aren't idols in this btw. Just you :) I did reread this but if u do find mistakes I apologize 😭

SKZ x Fem! Reader

♡Genre: Fluff

♡Warnings: Noneee

Chan

He first heard about your music through a friend.

He was instantly hooked

He practically loved every single song you wrote and released

Chan was definitely a committed fan too

He'd follow all your social media just to stay updated on everything you were doing

Nothing creepy. Only to stay informed of course

If you had a fan meeting? He would totally be there. Even if it meant dragging a friend along with

A concert? He will be there just to support you

Chan simply loves anything you do. Whether it be the way you eat or talk. Everything just seems so... Perfect

Now, as a fan, Chan knows he shouldn't get too attached but its been difficult to say the least

Ever since that one encounter with you, Chan couldn't help but get a little excited at the thought of you

It was your 5th fan meeting. You were happily greeting fans, receiving their gifts or compliments like a complete professional. Chan stood in line, excitedly tapping his feet. He held a paper bag(that was your favorite color) with loads of gifts in them.

The line moved quite slowly but Chan didn't mind. If it was to see you, he'd wait a century. The closer he moved though, the more excited and nervous he became.

Finally, it was his turn to meet you

You happily greet him and he greets back. You spark up a little conversation by complimenting his outfit. Chan compliments back, saying how he admired your outfit too.

Chan revealed all the presents he bought for you. You were extremely surprised by how many things they were. Your staff can along, taking the gifts and placing them with the others

"You didn't have to buy all that stuff you know" You laughed. Your smile caused a light pink to spread across Chan's face. "I don't mind. You really inspire me and make me very joyful. It's the least I can do" Chan grins confidently. You nod, signing the poster and album he brought along

"Well, thank you so much. It's really amazing that I get to make fans like you so happy. It makes me happy. Don't stop smiling for me, alright? " He never forget those words. He never forgot his promise to her. He smiled, whenever a smile needed to be present.

Chan sometimes wonders if you remember him. It is unlikely. You do have millions of fans everywhere all around the world. Meeting you was enough for him though. It was just enough.

Minho

He was just scrolling through YouTube one day when he came across on of your music videos. With 93 million views?

He felt that was a little much but who knows maybe it wasn't bad.

Minho was wrong though. It wasn't just bad. Your music was 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨. He felt like he just found a drug and you were the dealer.

He tried not admitting how much he actually liked your music but failed

The posters on the walls aren't there for nothing obviously

He loved your dance style. It was so clean yet fun. He'd spend hours in his room just watching performance videos and trying to master your dances

Minho was intrigued by your stage presence more than anything. You captivated the crowd with just one look. You definitely had a way with face expressions and emotions

His room was filled with different types of merchandise. From posters to photo cards to albums to hoodies and even more

With all the merch though, it was hard to keep his little obsession a secret. And not because he was embarrassed. He just didn't want people getting all nosy with this one little interest. It was his and his alone.

One moment he won't forget was that one live he watched

Minho wasn't particularly feeling well that day but luckily you were on the rescue. You decided to go live and just ramble about whatever has been happening. Nothing special, which Minho didn't mind. He just loved your voice.

Minho was slightly bored. He deciding on commenting something. It's not like he was hoping for you to see it. He typed out something sweet but simple: 𝘐𝘮 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳. He read through the comment before sending it through

You, on the other hand, we're reading through the comments until one caused you to raise your eyebrows and smile. "I'm feeling really bad today but your voice makes everything a little brighter" You read.

Minho practically panicked, noticing you read his comment. That was 𝙝𝙞𝙨 comment. He slapped his cheek just to make sure he wasn't dreaming. And sure enough he wasn't.

"I'm sorry that you're feeling bad but it'll get better. Life sucks but don't let that stop you. I'm glad I'm helping just a bit. To which ever fan who commented that and everyone else, I love you so much and don't ever forget that" You raised a thumbs up before staring back down at your phone, looking for more comments to read

Minho felt his heart skip a beat. Skip multiple beats in fact. Though the last few words weren't only directed towards him it felt that way. And that's all that matters.

Changbin

Changbin had always been a fan of you. Ever since debut he was rooting for you to succeed

And boy did you do just that

You had millions of fans from all over the globe now and he felt proud of you for that. He loved that you got where you wanted to be.

He enjoyed more of your older songs as that's what he's used to but the newer songs are amazing too.

What really stood out to him about you though was your laugh. You had such a pretty and contagious laugh. Every video he watches, he just hopes you'll laugh. It makes him smile.

He also relates to you food wise. Changbin is someone who loves food and for you to love food as much as he does. Well, that's nice to hear

It was funny how stupidly similar you both were but who knows.. Maybe he's just being delusional

He sometimes thinks about what it would be like to befriend you. He was positive that it wouldn't be a boring experience that's for sure.

He basically stalks your Instagram account and other social media too.

If you post something, he's most likely already seen it or read it. Everything you post is something different, so he always makes sure to stay updated

He also noticed how you both practically have the same sense of humor. Any joke you say seems to crack him up more than anything else

Changbin was watching a recent vlog you recorded and couldn't help but notice a funny detail. After the video he hopped onto Twitter and shared his observation

'𝘏𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 (𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦) 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 2 𝘵𝘰 3 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴. 𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥'

A few hours, Changbin returned to Twitter noticing the attention his post got. Many were agreeing and others were just pointing out other details. But one comment left him shocked

He couldn't believe it. He even clicked on the profile and did everything. And surely enough, that comment was from you

'𝘓𝘰𝘭𝘭, 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 😭"

You liked his little joke. YOU ACTUALLY LIKED IT. He tried not to scream as he was in a restaurant with a bunch of friends. He must have been dreaming, or dead maybe.

Either way, he was glad you got to laugh at his silly comment. Who knows. Maybe they'll be more silly comments you'll see and laugh at even more

Hyunjin

Hyunjin loves you. And when I say love, I mean he 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨 you.

He listens to your music every single day. Maybe while painting or doodling, he played one his favorite songs

I mean, all your songs were his favorite song, but he had a few that he held close to his heart.

When with friends, he always has an urge to bring you up in literally anything conversation

"Did you see (name) at Paris Fashion Week "

"Did you know (name) can do that too"

"Woah, that reminds me of (name). She's a great idol and her music is fantastic! "

Just a few examples of his undying love to you

Hyunjin really believes that you both are soul mates. Now, that is quite delusional but it makes sense! (To him anyway)

You once described, in an interview, what your type is and he ticked all the boxes. But maybe that's just his ego talking. Just a hopeless romantic in love

He celebrated your birthday like it was his own.

His gallery was filled with more pictures of you than his own family

It was all very concerning but Hyunjin didn't care. He was happy. He was happy knowing you.

Hyunjin did do other things too. He occasionally posted his art which gained lots of attraction. It was good after all. At some point, you mentioned how you didn't know what cover to use for your upcoming album.

Hyunjin took it upon himself to make a fan made album cover. It was soo good, people actually thought it was official. You soon saw the cover and was so impressed. You needed to use it. It was perfect

Hyunjin woke up to something unexpected the next day. Other than the thousands of notifications, he got a DM. From you. He almost dropped his phone from pure surprise

'𝘏𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦!! 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘭𝘣𝘶𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵!! 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯. 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘵, 𝘏𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘫𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵? '

'𝘠𝘶𝘱, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘮𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴. 𝘐𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢 𝘢 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘯 😖"

"𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭!! 𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬. 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦 :)"

"𝘖𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘳!!"

And with that, Hyunjin's artwork was the official album cover

He was over the roof. Seeing his art piece on the YOUR official album with YOUR songs. Okay, saying he was over the roof is an understatement

You later had an interview about the album and basically praised Hyunjin for his work for around 2 minutes. He watched that interview more than he could count. Needless to say, he didn't want to forget this moment.

Jisung

Jisung wasn't an artist but he liked music. Music was like a child to him. To some extent anyway

It did make sense though

His father was the owner of a huge kpop company. The company you were under in fact

Jisung wasn't interested in your music at first. Until, he followed his father in the recording studio you were working in. It was just a check up on your latest song. After one listen, he couldn't get the song out of his head.

He did some research about you and realized you were quite a popular idol in the community. That's where his fan obsession began

He liked watching all your interviews. Your personality was something he couldn't get over. You were always so nice and thoughtful towards anyone around. He was very intrigued by everything.

Though you were in the same company his father owned, you both never interacted. Mainly because he avoided you as much as possible. Embarrassment was not an option.

As a fan, Jisung listened to your music. He had a special playlist just for your songs and songs you liked.Songs he thought 𝙮𝙤𝙪 would like too.

He basically carried a photocard of you everywhere. Jisung believes it brings him good luck. Which was a cute gesture but it did sound a bit silly

He didn't care at all. Even if it was silly, it kept him at ease. He liked it that way

You had to write a song for a special performance. It was to be the company's 50th birthday but you had no ideas. That's when Jisung came in

"I heard you were having trouble with song writing. I brought my son to help you. He is quite the song writer" Your boss smiled. You eyed Jisung curiously. This was all to sudden but time was running out. You allowed it.

Jisung on the other hand was a nervous wreck. He couldn't even focus without getting scared. You noticed this and decided to give him some space.

When you returned, the song was finished. You excitedly examined the lyrics. You were impressed to say the least. The lyrics naturally connected to you, as if they were your own

"Oh my- this is perfect Jisung. You really are a great song writer"

"Really? It's not dumb or anything...? "

"Not at all. It's so professional and well done. Good job"

You gave the male a quick but thoughtful hug. He hugged back. You were his favorite idol and he couldn't believe he got to be this close to you. It was a dream come true.

The song did extremely well. At the show, Jisung got a whole shoutout with his face on the big screen. He was embarrassed but glad. Glad he could help you out.

Felix

Felix found you through Tiktok. How? Well your MAMA performance was trending and it was practically every where. It was impossible for anyone not to see at least one edit.

Felix did watch MAMA and he knew about you. He has known for a while. But wasn't a fan. He just knew you were a popular idol. What he didn't know though, was how obsessed he would become.

Like Minho, Felix was mesmerized by how you dance. He imagined you were the best dancer he had ever watched. Felix would often practice your dances, simply for fun

Everything was for fun

Did he read the fan fictions? Well... No but yes. He did read them but only sometimes. And he only read the cute stuff. He was delusional at the thought of you. Just a cute fanboy

Felix absolutely loved your smile. He often called you a sunshine or something like that. He believes you bring sunlight and everything bright. Anyone could go blind even looking at you or that's what he thought.

Your voice. He was one of the fans who could listen to your voice for ages on end.

He was passionate about you. Talking about you just came naturally or even accidentally though he did feel embarrassed after rambling. He didn't want to seem annoying in front of his friends. It was hard to control.

Felix watched all the edits he could find. Any edit. Any meme. Any video. He would watch it. He enjoyed all the content fans made of you.

Like most, Felix had merchandise. All neatly organized and placed in his room. He didn't like misplacing any of it. Not because it was expensive. He just didn't need to loose anything. It was all important to him

Felix opened Tiktok one day. You posted a challenge. A challenge for a song that he was in love with. There wasn't one day he didn't think of this song. It didn't have any choreography ... Until now

So a challenge? He had to try it out!

After a few hours of practice and life regret, Felix memorized the dance. He joined on the challenge posting his version on Tiktok.

Felix knew the video was going to blow up but he didn't expect it to get him a deal with you

Now, the male was patiently sitting in your studio. A few staff members with him. You hurriedly entered the studio.

"Hello! So glad you could make it Felix"

"Uhm... It wasn't a problem but... Why am I here? "

"I need a dance partner. I saw your video giving a go at my challenge. You're perfect"

Felix tilts his head. He was curious about why she chose him but decided to learn that later on. Hey, he was given a deal to dance with someone he admired. Why not take it.

He worked really hard to learn all the dance steps and everything. With you of course. You were extremely helpful. Your smile had to be the best part of everything though. It was as bright as he thought.

The concert day has to have been the best though. The performance went really well. Felix became quite popular with your fans. Everyone was so supportive rather than jealous. It was the best day of his life. That day never left his mind. It definitely was something he'd never forget.

Seungmin

Seungmin isn't your biggest fan.

He does like your music. Your personality. Etc. He is definitely not a BIG fan of you

You were just an idol he was fond of

Seungmin had few amounts of merchandise. Again, he's just fond of you

Seungmin was captivated by your singing voice. That's what he first noticed. Nothing healed his heart more than your singing.

It was a melody he simply wouldn't get over. Seungmin, personally, sang himself. He actually was a trainee under your company too.

He'd often bump into you but it wasn't a huge deal. He saw you as any other idol in the company. Just a human with a big platform

You both often had a brief and quick interaction before moving on. Getting on with your own lives.

He was more normal about you than the others, obviously

The thing that changed though, was how much of a fan he was towards you

The company gave him a challenge to learn then sing a cover from the list that was provided

Alright, seems easy. He chose the hardest song. One of yours. Did he want to show off? Yes. Was it because he wanted to impress you? To an extent, definitely

The highnotes in the song are what he was ready for. He practiced. And practiced. And practiced some more.

Seungmin, like his other trainee peers, we're given the same challenge. One by one, they all perform their covers in front of the judges. The judges were honest. Really honest from what he heard. A girl ran back crying. Seungmins breath quickened and he lightly tapped his foot on the ground

He was anxious

His turn arrived. He stared at the judges, noticing you were there. 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 up, he thought. The greetings and introductions ended. Now it was time for Seungmin to impress everyone (cough cough you)

The song reached its end. The room was quiet. The judges glanced at each other, with stunned expressions.

They all gave their feedback. The feedback was honest but decent. Your opinion was something that stuck with him forever though

"Well, that was my song and I haven't heard anyone sing it better than me. I'm actually so impressed Seungmin. I'm jealous. You have an angelic voice which I need on one of my songs. "

Everyone agreed and nod their heads

"When you debut, I'd love you to feature on some of my future music"

Seungmin left the company that day in a cheery mood. He couldn't believe one day you'd want to work on a song with him. Oh he was definitely going to learn as many of your songs as possible now.

Jeongin

Jeongin is definitely someone who keeps his love for you a personal thing

Only close friends knew about it

He liked it that way

Your fashion sense is something he is obsessed with. Jeongin is someone who takes time when it comes to dressing up. As soon as you mentioned, in an interview, that most of your stage outfits or general outfits are what you pick yourself. He could definitely relate

You dress like someone who cares about what you look like. Just like him.

You are an ambassador for a fashion brand after all. His seen plenty of ads in the mall or on the internet of you. He liked pointing them out in front of his friends

Jeongin thought you were sweet. Sweet like honey

He had no specific reason on why he wanted to know so much about you. Maybe it was his personal connection with you.

Or maybe he just wanted something to be attached to

Either way he was a big fan. Jeongin was simple about this whole thing. He felt happy when watching your content

He definitely was over protective about you though. He knows he shouldn't. It just sucks when someone comments a negative opinion. Of course, criticizing an idol is necessary for improvement. Though some take it too far. That's what pisses him off

Other than that, Jeongin is relaxed. Most of the time, especially in winter, he wears the same exact beanie. When asked about it, he doesn't really know how to answer but it is quite a story.

He attended a concert of yours. He was close to the stage which was just perfect. Of course, he brought friends with him. Friends that are fans as all.

Jeongin practically sang his heart out to every song. One of your more intense songs with a lot of energetic dances played. While dancing your beanie accidentally flew into the crowd. Luckily, Jeongin caught it.

The performance ended. You joked about the beanie flying off and asking if anyone caught it. Jeongins friends screamed in his direction bringing all the attention towards him.

A bright red paints on his face. The concert venue was dim. You hopefully couldn't see it. You laughed lightly noticing the shock in his face

"You know what. You can keep it"

Jeongin frantically shook his head insisting on you taking it back.

"Really, take it. You spent a whole ton of money just to see me sing and dance. It's the least I could do for such a cute fan"

Jeongin felt like passing out. One of his friends roughly shook him while the crowd screamed

He smiled at the thought, anytime he saw the piece of clothing. It was a wonderful experience. An experience he had to relive again.

◦•●◉✿♡✿◉●•◦

A/N: This has to have been the longest ass thing I've written so far. But I hope you enjoyed this little thing. Thanks soooo much for reading ♡♡

[silverskye13]

Being the universe's smartest super computer still made for a derpy, non-functional person. It was really easy for people to get caught up in the Cool Sci-Fi Shenanigans of cyborgs and robots and forget how awesome and powerful organic, sentient life was.

For example: Xisuma has a perfect memory. If someone gave him a date and a time, he could scan back through his memory logs, replay recorded data and footage, and tell you the exact recipe he used for those vegan cookies that one time six years ago. He knows the ambient temperature of a froglight that's been submerged underwater for six hours, three minutes and twenty-nine seconds. He can rewind a recorded memory, pause the time lapse, and watch in slow motion as Grian breaks a stone block at spawn with his bare hands because he was bored during their intro-season speech.

However, recorded data takes up a massive amount of memory on a standard hard drive when you record everything you see as a passive function, and all of it has to be purged by hand, regularly, just so Xisuma can maintain the memory needed for daily functions. He's tried writing algorithms to do it for him, but even the best pattern recognition software can't account for his momentary preferences. What differentiates his favorite sunrise from any other? If he were human, he could program some kind of learning software using data from tables tied to the output of different brain chemicals and electrical pulses that most frequently line up with a formative memory -- but if he were human he wouldn't be making a program like that in the first place, now would he?

It's one of those long, long days of trawling through recorded data. It would be shorter if he would just parse through the most recent memories, but he likes keeping long-term memory storage at exactly thirty percent of his total data storage, and he's been resting at thirty-four percent for the past month. Putting off the inevitable. It's just, there's been a lot of stuff to remember the past few weeks, and it's hard to choose what to get rid of sometimes. He's started deep-diving through old data, walking down memory lane. He has to be careful, some of this data is important, tied intricately with the complex spider algorithm that forms his memory data access system.

Click! Click! Click!

"What are you thinking, X?"

The screen that makes up the lion's share of X's face organizes itself into a smile, lights flickering on in the nanoseconds it takes him to process the memory he's watching and attribute happiness to it. Yes, this is a good one.

The playback jolts as he looks down at Tango. Not pictured is a redstone project they are picking away at. Xisuma knows this because this particular memory has a transcript, full of branching tags and keywords that pull up a wealth of information alongside it.

That's another thing about memory that organic life never appreciates. Memory isn't just the memory itself. It's a web of associations built on prior, learned knowledge. A tree isn't just a tree. It's color and texture and symbol and "when was the first time I drew a tree?" and "apples" and "saplings" and a thousand other tiny associations they just arbitrarily have. Xisuma has to synthesize that web. A memory doesn't exist in a vacuum. Unlike the organic mind, however, Xisuma can pull up as much accurate information as he has the processing power for. This memory brings him two more closely associated recordings, associated memories he's kept for context, the transcripts of six more deleted memories, the definition of redstone, a playback of isolated sound he deemed important.

The playback continues.

Click! Click! Click!

"What are you thinking, X?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Tango, I didn't know you'd walked up! I was doing research."

"Yeah? What kind?"

"Oh well, you know the new update. Redstone's always a little finicky after."

"Right, yeah, totally. I've been putting mine off, honestly. I don't feel like fixing broken stuff right now -- oh but, I guess you can't wait, huh?"

Xisuma parses through the data brought up with the memory. He knows the date this was recorded, the recent change to redstone mechanics brought on by the server update. He'd had three farms break. There was a linked document to a transcript of Doc's rant on redstone as it relates to radiation. There was a script note document typed the day after this recording was created: Clicking Good. There was a preliminary version of what he'd nicknamed "The Tick Script.Exe".

"Yeah, I've got a lot of bugs to fix."

"Are you going to get rid of the clicking?"

"Clicking?"

The clicking was an ambient noise made when Xisuma's system was a bit bulkier, his algorithms and scripts that handled memory and data access crude and unperfected. It caused a disc in a driver somewhere to click when he did searches. At the time, the clicking had been the closest thing to an annoying habit Xisuma could manage.

Computers don't have habits. Habits are repetitive motions that become subliminal, that take effort to break, and are oftentimes formed subconsciously. Xisuma doesn't have a discernable difference between conscious thought and subconscious. He has background processes, he has backburnered data, and he has executive commands.

Xisuma queries the memory, pulling up related tags and searches, letting the algorithm reach. This memory had been the start of a, for lack of a better term, humanification process for him. There was his observation table on organic ticks, habits, and movements. It had taken a lot of uncomfortable staring, but back then, staring was all he'd known how to do. One of the first entries on the table was blinking. Organic things blinked, clearing away dust and debris from lenses and membranes. Xisuma didn't have eyes, didn't blink. But the screen that managed his facial expression animations could be programmed to blink.

Xisuma queries blinking. He pulls up a transcript of an interaction with Stressmonster, where she mentioned he blinked every thirty seconds. She knew this because when she first noticed him blinking, she'd noticed it's regularity. That was when Xisuma learned that, to convincingly blink, time variation was necessary.

Coding randomization into redstone circuitry had always been difficult.

Xisuma returns to the Tango memory recording, replays the question about the clicking, the unintentional habit. Xisuma still clicked when he thought. The others probably still thought it had to do with bulky drivers. In reality, it had been a test in trial and error.

How many clicks was acceptable for a thinking pattern? The three dot ellipses was common in writing, and a two dot pattern was too reminiscent of a heartbeat. When he'd temporarily switched to a four dot pattern, he'd noticed people getting impatient, or worrying if his mechanics were stalling. (Stalling and slow loading does sometimes happen, but it manifests in freezes and long pauses, not in repeating clicks). He invented a three click pattern, tested a variety of click sounds, settled on something similar to a rotary phone click when a number is dialed. It was a good sound. Heavy and sharp. It sounded like something falling into place with intention. Click! Click! Click!

Xisuma doesn't actually need a sound to think. But it's a clever replacement for harder to code things, like remembering to two a surface or fidget.

Click! Click! Click!

Shifting weight had been a harder thing to code. Standing stationary, legs an equal width apart, was the most steady way to stand. It also made him look like a statue, made his unblinking stares eerie and uncomfortable. Organic things read it as unnatural, borderline on predatory. Large predators often froze and stared right before pouncing.

Looking back through old memories, Xisuma could tell if they were from before or after his algorithmic programming because of how still they were. Made for clearer visuals, and he knows in high-stress situations that focus on accuracy, he can cycle them off, but they're comfortable for people to watch.

Xisuma rocks back on his heels away from the screen he's watching. If someone else were in the room, it would be a sign of thoughtfulness. For him, it's the execution from a random table of acceptable fidgets while standing still. He should turn it off. He's alone right now. But sometimes the movements still catch him off-guard and the longer they run, the more he gets used to them.

Xisuma queries: rocking on heals

He gets a handful of save recording bits. Doc rocks onto his back legs and stretches his forelegs. Gem rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet, her arms crossed behind her back, mischievous and excited. Scar rocks back on his heels and crosses his arms, thoughtfully examining some terraforming. Xisuma isolates the last recording and mimics it, feeling how the weight of his crossed arms counterbalances the lean back.

Xisuma queries his habits table and adds the motion to the list.

He never quite figured out how to program what to do with his hands. They spent a lot of time at his sides, or in pockets. Objectively he knew that was bad. Hiding the hands was often a sign of hiding something, and he liked being transparent.

Xisuma queries: Hands

Xisuma blinks at the long list of results.

Xisuma queries: Hands behind back

He gets several animations of Gem, Grian, and Scar, all with some variation of hands behind their backs and mischievous grins. Most of them are snippets made for studying purposes. Two are attached to longer videos, catalogued memories he's kept. His query returns almost four hundred memory transcripts.

Xisuma likes making transcripts. He feels it's similar to the hazy, distant memories people have when time and distance transform them. When someone else remembers something falteringly, he remembers the way he described it to himself. The older transcripts were rougher. He's gotten better at writing them over the years. His learning and pattern recognition softwares are still pretty good, even if they aren't perfect enough to manage the full range of expression on their own.

Xisuma queries: Do my friends know how hard it is to look organic?

This returns no direct results. He receives a directory of the people he's flagged as "friends" over the years, an article on the recent organics additions to the world in the latest update, and a handful of unrelated memory documents where he'd asked this question before and similarly pulled up no response.

Xisuma queries: Do I care?

This pulls up more entries. Xisuma glances across them and clears them.

Xisuma queries: Do I care today?

This pulls up only slightly fewer entries. He smiles. Asking subjective questions to a computer never gleans intended results. Computers aren't subjective. Or, well, they're not supposed to be. Of course, if he were merely a computer, he wouldn't be doing this, would he? If he were merely a computer, he would be sitting on a shelf, or a desk, running prewritten programs and searches for someone else, letting someone else build his code, rules by the guidances and intentions of someone who ultimately viewed him as a tool, if nothing else.

Xisuma queries: Who's flying this thing, if not me?

He pulls up a list of song lyrics and chords, a clip from a movie he'd watched once, an IMDB rating off some database somewhere.

Xisuma clears the data. He pulls up the last memory he was watching, rocks back on his heels and crosses his arms thoughtfully. He presses play.

Click! Click! Click!

"Are you going to get rid of the clicking?"

"Clicking? Oh, I guess I am clicking, aren't I? It's just an inefficiency. I'll fix it at some point, I guess."

Tango smirked at him. One of his hands plucked at his sleeve. Xisuma clips the motion, tags it with hands, nervous, thoughtful, fidget.

"You sure it needs fixed? I kinda like it."

Click! Click! Click!

[ghostlykeyes]

i rlly like your work, heartsteel needs more content tbh,, so ty!! ANYWAY,

i liked the general relationship/kiss hcs w kayn, would u be able to do that for the other two as well?? if that makes sense

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

HEARTSTEEL YONE: RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS ♡ Gender Neutral ♡ SFW, with light touching/sensuality ♡ TW: Some alcohol usage/food mentions ♡ I've done Sett's kisses here (X) and relationship HCs here (X), and Yone's kisses here (X) ! (will I remember to come back and edit those links in??? only time will tell)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

YONE

No matter where you go, Yone brings you on fantastic dates. It's never popular tourist-trap type outings, either. If you ask how the hell he even found out about your date locations, he smiles coyly and says he can't reveal his sources. Regardless, expect lots of breathtaking, original dates—hidden trails that spill into breathtaking clumps of wildflowers, a hole-in-the-wall burger joint with the best fries you've had in tour entire life, tiny sculpture parks with some truly absurd statues (he absolutely refuses to delete the unflattering pic of you squatting next to a caked-up stone Sasquatch).

He isn't on his phone often, so don't be surprised if Yone doesn't text you back quickly or is overly-formal with his messages. Wild horses couldn't drag a silly emoji or a meme out of him. If you're lucky, you'll get a red heart, but that's about it. He tries not to make you feel neglected just because he's a dry texter, though. Especially when he's on tour, he calls you to check in whenever he's got a spare moment.

Yone's a chronic meal-skipper so he really appreciates if you share your food with him. Be warned, though, if you force him to step away from work and sit down for dinner you're either getting five minutes and a cup of instant ramen, or he's cooking you a three course meal complete with different appetizer, entree, and dessert wines. There's no in-between.

While Yone's not a fan of PDA, he holds your hand through every big event you're forced to attend. He doesn't appreciate the attention and flashing lights, but your warm, reassuring grip keeps him calm and relatively content.

Matching outfits are a little bit too much, but Yone is all for wearing clothing that compliments yours. Think similar textures, colors, and cuts. If you're wearing athleisure, he'll throw on a pair of stylish sweatpants. You're rocking the all black fit, so is he (with a pop of color in his earrings, probably—if he's completely monochrome, Kayn accuses him of "stealing his look"). Though he thinks it's a little cringy to be exact matches, he's definitely down to coordinate.

Whenever Yone makes himself a coffee, he whips up a glass of your favorite beverage as well. Nothing is too complicated—if you want a latte, he can make any flavor, and he'll pour the foam into a heart shape on top. Boba? No problem, he's got tapioca pearls in your favorite flavor and large straws on hand, to boot. A mimosa? Okay, he might raise his eyebrow at that one and point out that it's like eleven A.M.—nevertheless, if it's a mimosa you want, then it's a mimosa you'll get. Part of this is because he loves you, of course, but also? He hates sharing his coffee and figures that you won't ask for a sip if you've got your own drink.

Yone absolutely melts when you take care of him. He's used to looking after everyone else's wants and needs, so it's a pleasant surprise when someone extends that same care and attention to him. Cook him his favorite meal or take care of his laundry when he's been extra busy, and he looks at you like you're the eight wonder of the world. "You didn't have to do that for me," he cups your face gently, sweeping an appreciative kiss over your forehead. "But I'm glad that you did."

Chivalry is not dead and Yone's the man giving it CPR. Count on him to be the perfect gentleman. He opens every door for you, takes your coat whenever you drop by his studio, and no, under no circumstances will he let you pull out your own chair.

Yone's pet-names are sweet and classic. Most often, he calls you 'my darling', but he'll occasionally pepper in a 'dearest' or 'lover' for variety.

One of Yone's favorite ways to spend a free evening with you is sneaking into underground music shows. The two of you will turn up to somebody's house where the living room has been cleared to throw together a makeshift stage, or an abandoned warehouse with people clustering together and swaying to synthetic beats blasting through mid-grade speakers. More often than not, the musicians aren't that good (but that's par for the course with these kind of shows). The atmosphere can't be beat, though. And, when you do stumble upon somebody's garage band that actually goes hard, it's always an exciting surprise. Yone always keeps cash on him in case somebody's selling merch. He snags two stickers, one for you to keep and one to paste on his guitar case. What better way to commemorate shitty bands and crowded house shows than with matching stickers?

If you tag along with him on tour or business trips, Yone's first mission is to scout out a good coffee shop. Of course he takes you along, and buys you whatever little treats catch your eye. Sweets, sandwiches, snacks—anything he notices you ogling behind the glass, he orders for you.

Even with his massively packed schedule Yone NEVER, EVER forgets an important date. Expect gifts on birthdays and anniversaries, and extra love and support on dates that might be difficult for you.

Since Sett's a master crocheter, Yone pays him a frankly absurd amount to make you a plushie that looks like his fox mask. Yone knows that it can't be easy for you, with him away touring or on business so much of the time. The stuffed snuggle-buddy, he hopes, can ease your loneliness when he's away. Before he sets off on a long trip he makes sure to spritz your stuffie with his cologne, so that you can squish it in your sleep and dream that he's right there with you.

Yone's not a huge cuddler. Too much physical attention can make him feel smothered. The exception is when you sit on his lap. He loves when you settle onto him while he's working. As long as you're quiet and still (he doesn't want you to disturb his flow, after all), he basks in your comfortable warmth and the adorable way you tuck yourself into his chest.

[lulu-tutu]

Rise tmnt request; platonic hc of mom figure female reader who's taking care of her teenage turtle kids; how she's enjoying cooking with mikey and attend his dr. Feelings sessions, how she sew for raph many dolls and teddy bears with different colors (she hate ghost bear for hurting her baby), how she used to put donnie and leo in get together shirts whenever they start chaos.

But her favorite activity; gathering embarrassing pictures, videos of the turtles's childhood and show it to everyone, like if she ever were kidnapped by big mama they would spend a lovely time talking about the turtles when they were kids (the mad dogs try to save their mom faster before their secrets get exposed😂)

Mother Dearest ⭐️ Rise!Turtles HCs

A/N: *throws unlimited affection at you* How in the world did you manage to give me so many heart clenching, tooth aching, fluff filled requests?? Please take my hand in platonic marriage, we do not deserve you. I almost enjoy these parental requests as much as I enjoy angst. Almost.

Pairing(s): Mother Figure!Reader & Turtles

Warning(s): FLUFF, may make you cry from wholesomeness

Proof read :)

The boys are, well, your boys. You don't make the rules. The turtles are your babies.

Do you spoil them? Yes. Will you ever stop spoiling them? Of course not.

You do everything in your power to keep your kids happy, no matter the cost, even if it's the tiniest of things that make their faces light up like fireworks.

Mikey, oh sweet baby angel, you could never say no to him, why would you even consider that in the first place?

You and him make the most mouth watering dishes the universe has ever seen, and you always give the credit to Mikey despite how he tries to wave it off and reflect it back towards you.

When the two of you are in the kitchen, it's like watching art come to life. When one of the other boys enter the room, they sometimes have to stop and gaze in amazement at the two of you, hypnotised by the way you both work so effortlessly around each other.

You always try and give Mikey little tips to push his dishes towards perfection, and he always does the same to you when you find yourself making something you haven't even heard of before.

You and Mikey are the dream team when it comes to the kitchen, no one could even compare.

Watching his face turn darker from your praises as you all dig into his meals, it just makes you so giddy to see him so happy.

When it comes around to it, you definitely attend his Dr Feelings sessions! You're there to listen and take in whatever your youngest son has to offer, your face serious the whole time he reads through his clipboard or points towards the projectors screen.

Raph was also one of the most spoilt of the four, though you tried to make sure to evenly give the others gifts.

After many nights of learning how to sew and stitch (while getting many pricks and pokes at the same time) you had learnt how to craft the most adorable plushies, dolls and teddy bears Raph had ever seen.

Or maybe it was the thought behind them that made him love them more than any other plushies he had. He would just guess it was both.

The first time you had rushed into the lair with a plastic bag swinging at your side, Raph had thrown you so many worried questions. "What happened? What's in the bag? Did Donnie make you steal from the museum again-?"

Like I said, you'd do anything to make your boys happy.

When you tore open the bag to show him your hard work, he gasped so loudly, tiny stars in his eyes.

He couldn't pick a favourite! Of course the red bear was one of them, with it having a red bandana around its neck and tiny roses dotted around its body, the blue one was also adorable-oh, the yellow one too- a pink one?

The more he looked around in the bag, the more colours he saw.

And then he caught a glance at your bandaid covered hands, which instantly activated his own 'mother bear' instincts. heh.

"You didn't have to make me anything, you hurt yourself doin' it!" "Raph, sweetie, I'm fine! The look on your face was enough to heal any injury."

He melts, which makes you melt.

You helped him organise his room, placing the plushies on his bed, making sure each one got enough love and care. You didn't want any of them feeling left out!

And oh, don't even get started on Ghost Bear. You hear one mention of him and you're shaking your head, biting your tongue from cursing him out for even thinking of hurting your baby boy.

"That guy has no right being idolised by the great Raphael! If I ever get my hands on that no good-"

Mikey has to drag you away after that, hand covering your mouth to prevent some not very nice words from slipping out.

You knew how much Donnie needed to hear any sort of praises from a parental figure, and you were there to give it and more. He was desperate, and you didn't blame him.

You spend a lot of your free time in his lab, even when he has his music blaring loudly. You got use to it after so long.

He doesn't say it, but he really enjoys your presence. You two don't have to speak, all he needs to know is that you're there for him while he tinkers away.

He shows you something new and most likely dangerous?

"Holy cow, that's amazing! You're amazing! How did you even make that?"

Cue him flapping his hands around wildly before diving into a deep explanation about it that you don't understand at all, but you nod along and smile as he talks away.

You also offer to help collect materials with him! Bonding! He never turns you down, even when he's in a bad mood thanks to Leo's pestering.

You let him get his frustration out to you, happy to listen to him rant and just be that shoulder for him. If he wants you to give him advice or feedback, you will. But most of the time you let him just get everything out in the air.

Talking about Leo, hoo boy.

Chaos. Always chaos.

There's rarely a time to relax around that boy, he is such a handful.

"Leo, leave Donnie alone before he pulls out a flamethrower or something."

"Leo! How can you make the most fanciest looking sandwiches I've ever seen, but manage to burn toast? And why is the toaster on fire?!"

"Did you take Raph's shark bear? I'm going to count to three and it better be back on his bed before I stop counting. One- Good. That's what I thought. I'll make you one too, just ask next time."

When you do get the rare moments of peace, it's blissful and strange at the same time.

Sitting down reading together, whether it's him reading a comic and you a novel. Playing video games with him teaching you some neat and secret tricks, or him even showing you around the Hidden City.

You meeting Hueso was the worst thing to ever happen to Leo. Now he has to deal with the teasing of not only one parental figure, but two? At the same time? He has many regrets. At least you two end up getting along well.

When Leo and Donnie decide to have their daily argument? Into the Get Together shirt they go!

"Wha- No! I demand that I be set free! Being close to this moron is a fate worse than death!"

GASP! "How could you say that, dear brother? I was about to say the same thing!"

"You two continue like this and you'll stay together for a lot longer." "Yes, mom."

"Yes, mother."

When it eventually gets out to the world that you're very dear to the turtles, you weren't surprised that an enemy of theirs would decide to use you as bait.

Thankfully, Big Mama was pleasantly fun to be around. When you told her about your boys, she instantly released you from her webs and beckoned you to come closer.

When the boys come bursting through the doors, they instantly crumble to the floor in horror. They were too late.

"Oh, hey sweeties!" You wave towards their tearful faces, your phone out and facing you and Big Mama, a picture of the four when they were younger and taking a bath was currently on display. It was only one of the many you had shown the spider Yokai who giggles at the cuteness.

"We're too late! We've failed!" Mikey sobs on the floor, clutching his face out of pure embarrassment.

"Please tell me you didn't show her-"

You cut off Donnie with a large grin, "The video of you guys pretending to be mermaids? I did."

"NO!"

This was not the first time those pictures and videos have been shown to someone, and it will not be the last. You make it your last mission to show off your boys to anyone and everyone.

[hangmanbrainrot]

stranger from the bar

a/n: this is an incredibly late submission to @callsign-phoenix's 1k celebration. thank you for your patience, lovely. <3

warnings: 18+ content, this is mostly just... smut, there's an extensive list of tags on the ao3 page but there's some big emphasis on a rank kink here, exhibitionism, unprotected penetrative sex, lots of swearing, and alcohol mention.

word count: 3.1k

summary: in which you and jake do something a little different after a night out.

pairing: jake seresin x reader

“Jake, Jake, Jake,” you panted against his lips, palms shoving feebly against his chest. “Jake, wait. Are we sure this is a good idea?” 

You sat back slightly in your position on his lap, to take in his expression. Your gaze darted between his kiss swollen, lipgloss smeared lips and the depth of the green in his eyes. They looked almost grey in the low light of the parking lot.

“We stopped making good decisions after your third gin and tonic, I’m just pointing that out. But I’d never do anything you weren’t comfortable with, darlin’,” he hummed lowly, brows furrowed as his palms smoothed up and down the length of your goosebump covered thighs. Your hips pitched forward, rolling against his almost involuntarily, and you couldn’t tell if it was the sudden rush of desire flooding back to the surface or the chill in the air that made you shiver. Your shirt laid discarded in the passenger seat where you were once seated.

You looked back to Jake again. All traces of artifice were gone. There was no facade, no arrogance found in his expression. Instead, a strand of blond hair had fallen from its position in his perfect coif, and it curled lazily toward the top of his forehead. You ran your fingers through the sandy colored locks almost on impulse, and the moan you earned in response when you gave the strands a slight tug surprised you. Definitely filing that one away for later. Your mind — and his — was slipping in and out of your agreed upon charade so quickly. It was hard to pretend the man before you was a stranger, when part of the reason why you craved him so deeply was because of the plain and unashamed intimacy between you. You looked at him with a quirked brow, but before you could remark on your discovery, he cut you off with an utterance of your name. 

“So what's it gonna be?” He asked, voice low and husky. He shifted beneath you, and every delicious inch of him pressed into you, right where you needed him most, even with his pants between you — a move that was no doubt deliberate. Your lips returned to his, aggressive with need. His fingers snaked up into your hair, angling you where he wanted you — where he needed you. Jake was so deceptively confident that sometimes it was hard to imagine he’d ever needed another person in his life, but then every time he got his hands on you, he was like a man starved. His tongue was deft, first swiping along the seam of your lips, then parting them like a man depraved. With your knees bracketing his thighs, you didn’t have much space, but it was enough to work with to grind yourself down shamelessly against his denim-clad thigh. He could no doubt feel the wet heat of your core, every time you rutted down against the coarse material once more. It was relief, it was something. The body of your skirt flared around your thighs, but you’d ditched your underwear long ago, so your arousal threatened to soak his pant leg beneath you if you weren’t careful.

“Jake,” you repeated in a shaky exhale, moving like a person possessed, with your head thrown back. You couldn’t stop the near incessant motion of your hips if you tried, desperate for friction, desperate for him, especially as his mouth latched onto one of your nipples. He had you tightrope walking that line between pleasure and pain, tongue laving over the skin his teeth had grazed just seconds earlier.

“You keep saying my name like that, I don’t know if I’ll even get you out of that pretty little skirt before we’re making a mess,” he said the words like a promise, whispered against the warmth of your flushed skin as he kissed his way up your chest.

So suddenly it almost hurt, Jake retracted and righted himself to look up at you, as if he realized something, and you whined in response — impulsively, instinctively. But you caught his eyes, and you understood. One of his hands raised to cup your face and the gold of his wedding band caught the light in the process. The pad of his thumb brushed softly along your skin, so softly you were almost ashamed of the way you were still writhing in his lap. Almost. He tapped your cheek three times in a row, and you instantly came back to yourself. This was a check-in. This was your husband.

“Color?” you asked as you went still in his lap.

“No, I’m green, so, so very green,” he said gently, almost shy, even as a chuckle bubbled up out of him. “But you didn’t answer me, and you said wait before, but I realized I didn’t wait, then you said my name so I felt bad and wanted to be sure.”

Oh, this man loved you. He loved you, loved you. And you knew it, of course, but feeling it right now in the soft, gentle cadence of his words, in the way he was studying you for even the slightest change in mood or disposition? It had you clenching around nothing, needy as your hands fisted in the fabric of the plain black t-shirt he wore. You used your newfound hold on him to all but yank him flush against your bare chest.

“Honey,” your lips pressed softly to the hollow behind his ear, delicate, as you murmured, “I am so sorry I worried you, but I am so fucking green.” 

Sitting back again, you took in your husband, your hands reaching up to frame his face as you explained, “I only said wait because I was, uh, getting into it, you know?”

More realization washed over his expression and even in the barely there moonlight, you knew his face was red — more because of your knowledge of your Jake, than your reliance on your eyes.

“You called me Jake. Twice.” He was practically pouting as he repeated the fact. You’d broken character. The feigned anonymity was, admittedly, part of what made your designed ruse so fucking attractive. 

“Sorry, sir. Won’t happen again, Lieutenant.” 

Just like that, your husband was gone, and in his place sat Lieutenant Seresin. 

“I know it won’t.”

White hot desire lanced through you, and you forgot all rational fucking thought, practically crumbling against him, but he drew you up again, until your chest was flush against his own. Your taut nipples brushed against the soft, though slightly worn cotton fabric of his shirt. The sensation was heady and overwhelming, barely on this side of just enough. Your moan was clumsy and unabashed when it fled past your parted lips. 

Jake sneered at the noise, lip curled in what you knew to be feigned disgust when he spoke to you. “You can’t even help yourself can you, little one?”

His hand pressed against your lower back, forcing you closer against him, and the same pleasure rocketed through you as your sensitive skin connected with his clothing once more. Your hips resumed their previous rhythm, thighs tightening around Jake’s own to attempt to assert some semblance of control over the erratic movements of your body.

“N-no, Lieutenant,” you panted, stammering through the syllables. 

You might’ve had enough shame to be embarrassed by your own whimpering, if Jake hadn’t started to flex and tense the thigh you were currently rutting against within an inch of your life. 

“Well, go on then, take what you need.”

Despite the fact that you had a slight height advantage from being seated in his lap, Jake was practically scowling at you in a way that made you feel deliciously small. He sat back in the reclined driver’s seat almost lazily, short of the tension he was maintaining in his leg for your benefit. But even as you moved, you didn’t have nearly enough space, and you were sure you’d have bruises from where you’d leaned back against the steering wheel. The whine you released was downright guttural — part need, part exasperation. You hadn’t even realized you’d shut your eyes until you had to open them to look down at Jake, when he let out a downright cruel chuckle. He already knew.

“What’s the matter, hm?” Both of his hands rested at the top of your legs, squeezing the supple flesh where your hips met your thighs — one of his favorite places to feel you. He used the hold to still you. “Use your words or you get nothing.” 

“Need you, please,” you practically chanted, your aching muscles propelling you against reason, struggling against Jake’s hold. “Need you s’bad.”

Your words were practically slurring, but you didn’t care. In preparation for tonight, you and Jake had abstained for a little while, so you were already well past ‘overstimulated.’

“Didn’t I tell you to take what you need?” A large palm closed around your throat, applying only nominal pressure — just enough to focus you — before he continued. “So why aren’t you? Don’t you wanna be good for me?” 

The smirk rested upon his lips told you that Jake knew exactly what your problem was; he just reveled in hearing you say it.

“Not enough,” you whined when he eased the pressure, thighs tightening in their positions bracketed around him. “Need you to fuck me, Lieutenant.” 

“Sweetheart,” he purred, head lowering to drop teasingly delicate kisses along the line of your shoulder. You didn’t miss the way he shifted beneath you, as much as your weight would allow. His slacks were drawn so tightly across his body, you were fairly certain that if you’d had the presence of mind to look down, you’d have seen his cock twitch. “You hardly know me. Plus, there’s not nearly enough room in this car.”

You knew what he was getting at, knew how desperately he practically daydreamed about fucking you bent over the back of his car — outside, where any and everyone could hear and see you. It was why you’d gone to a bar just outside of your normal stomping grounds. You were less likely to run into anyone you knew, and it felt like a fair but necessary compromise to allow your husband to live out his fantasy. Except now he wanted you to beg for it. 

“Please, Lieutenant, please,” you babbled, remembering to lean in to the role you were meant to be playing. “I, I don’t normally do this either, but please. I don’t even care if, if…”

Your pleading was clumsy, but if Jake had noticed, he hadn’t commented on it. Instead, he’d opened the car door on his side and ordered you to get out. When you reached for your shirt, to guard against the late night chill, he delivered a sharp smack against your cheek. It was a limit you’d previously agreed upon, but what you hadn’t expected was the primal way you moaned in response.

God, you were his. You were so fucking his. 

He got out of the car once you were steady on your feet, and before you could reach for him, he’d spun you around, pressing into you until you were bent over the trunk of the car you’d rented for your little expedition. Your eyes skimmed the parking lot — not crowded but certainly not empty, either. The perfect amount of risk.

“Color, sweetheart,” he said softly, teeth grazing the shell of your ear.

“Green, bright fucking green,” the words hissed through gritted teeth, as you struggled to push back against his hips. The erection currently straining behind his jeans felt like a fucking punishment. You’d do anything to see him, get your hands on him, and — 

“Wrists,” he barked, clearly settling right back into character.

“Is that an order, Lieutenant?” 

You knew Jake loved that you could dish it as well as you could take it, but the sharp smack he delivered your ass let you know that Lieutenant Seresin was not a fan. You yelped, upper half pressing closer into the car. Your nipples went taut against the metal, practically stinging from how cold it was. You couldn’t decide if the sensation was too much or not enough, before Jake was repeating himself — something he hated to do.

“I said wrists.”

“But Lieutenant, what if someone sees us?” You were probably laying it on thick, and while you knew Jake was too far gone to make fun of you for it, you wanted to hear the delirium creep into his voice; to know how absolutely fucking wrecked he was, and how very much your doing it was. Because while you were very much his, he was also very much yours. 

You heard the familiar sound of his belt and zipper, and then he was shoving up your skirt and using your own weight against you to press you tighter against the car. The anticipation was as delicious as it was agonizing. You wriggled your hips, just to do something, just to tease, and then — 

Jake groaned behind you as he began slowly splitting you open, pressing into you at a rate that was dizzying — both too soon and not quick enough; you couldn’t decide if you wanted more or less. The promise of that frenzied push and pull of him inside of you, hips stuttering with need. You were insatiable for what you already had. One of his palms collected both of your wrists in his grasp, pinning them together at the base of your back; the newfound tension in your shoulders, as infuriating as it was, only worsened the ache that resided deep in your belly. With his other hand now carefully coiled around the nape of your neck, Jake pressed your cheek against the back of the car with so much force, you struggled to keep your toes pressed into the pavement for balance. Even the brush of your bunched skirt at the top of your hips felt like too much; you were an exposed nerve, you felt turned inside out from the intensity of the pleasure licking up through your insides like flames.

And you were babbling, a short chorus of “oh fuck”’s and “right there”’s, when Jake finally spoke again: “Look at you, takin’ me s’good. Wish you could see, doll. Y’look like a fuckin’ dream.” 

Jake would’ve sounded sleazy if he was anybody else, accent pouring out thick over words practically hissed out through gritted teeth — but he was so fuckin’ smooth. You wanted to rile him up, too, to beat him at his own game, when you heard noise coming from the far side of the parking lot. For a moment, Jake stuttered behind you; clearly not expecting the sound, either. It was the brief pause in his movements that allowed your mind mere moments to clear, to process, to fight through the haze. Above, or perhaps through the sound of your husband’s soft pants, you could hear two people chatting quietly; they’d likely stepped out of the bar for a smoke.  

“Wh-what if they hear us?” You managed to mumble convincingly, though you were delighted by the thought, as was evident by the shiver racking your body. 

“Let them.” The words were a near snarl, sending more hot, unrelenting waves of ecstasy coursing through you. Your upper half sagged against the back of the car, mouth fallen open in a silent expression of pleasure. 

Behind you, Jake released his hold the nape of your neck, only for his fingers to twist in your hair to wrench your body upright. “Didn’t I just say let them hear you?” 

“S-sorry, Lieutenant,” you practically wailed, the sound unfiltered and needy — you knew what was coming next, and apparently so did Jake. Immediately, you felt a warm palm smothering your lips, to stifle the second, much louder noise that left your mouth as the knots coiled up within you finally snapped and unwound, and the orgasm rocketed through you. Your vision went white, and all sound faded away. Vaguely, you were aware of Jake, your Jake behind you, and the soft, slightly strangled noise he made when he finished, but you were too busy loitering in that in between feeling, part floating back down to your body, part tingling all over.

When the ringing in your ears subsided and you felt like you could finally hold your eyes open, you clued into Jake’s voice, whispering your name hurriedly. You could hear the sound of his zipper, the buckle of his belt, he was rushing. And then he was spinning you around, eyes searching your expression worriedly while he busied himself with fixing your skirt. It was then that you realized you were crying, or you had been, fat tears dribbling down your face as you sagged against the car.

With his shirt wrinkled and the flush of a fresh orgasm, Jake looked absolutely stunning, even in the low light — and you hated him for it. He framed your face in his hands, both thumbs capturing the stray tears as he heaved out a sigh. 

“You went so quiet on me,” he mumbled out softly, “I thought, I…”

You could only shake your head, then gripping both sides of his shirt to drag his warm frame toward you. His arms encircled you almost immediately, one palm smoothing up and down the length of your back while the other cradled the back of your head, where you were curled into your chest. You weren’t sure how long you remained that way, wrapped in his embrace, but it felt like centuries later that he broached the silence again. 

“So, I don’t know how much they saw, but those people from earlier definitely saw something. I think we should get going, babe.” In response to this, you whined and pressed tighter against your husband, your bare chest pressing against his, as if you could somehow get any closer. At this, he only chuckled, freeing a hand to open the back door to the car. It was a little awkward for him to move and bend, with you wrapped around him for dear life, but his hand reappeared a moment later with the sweatshirt he’d stashed back there for you. Before Jake had even gotten to work pulling the cotton material over your head, you knew it would smell of his cologne. 

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he said softly, his expression downright fond. Even as his arms dropped from you, his hand found yours almost instantly, to lead you to the passenger’s side of the car.

“Bath time?” you questioned, finally finding your voice again. 

“Bath time,” he repeated with a smile, dropping a kiss on the top of your head as he helped you settle into your seat. 

[rillils]

i hate my angst loving self so much sometimes

think about a confused and not-entirely-there bucky screaming at steve, asking him why he left him there on the snow, asking why he didnt come back for him, telling him how long he waited for him to come and save him

FINE HONEY, YOU WANTED ANGST, I'LL GIVE YOU ANGST. AND I'LL CRY ABOUT IT 😭

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, tw: suicidal thoughts, very mild gore, nightmares, post-catws, angst is definitely not my thing what am i even doing here asjdhsjdh wordcount: 3815 a side note: while the language here is used in accordance with steve's profound sense of guilt, it doesn't reflect the author's personal beliefs on the matter - aka IT'S NOT HIS FAULT SKDLKS MY POOR BABY 😭😭

It always starts off quiet, like the darkened hall of a theater in the split second between the curtain opening over the stage and the actor’s first line. Silence, please. The show is about to begin.

The scenery changes sometimes, but it’s the mountains Steve sees most often in his dreams: the soulless gray of stone, and the blinding white of snow coating everything, from the peaks, to the valley, to the copse of fir trees, huddled together like children in the cold. Just like he remembers from that day in the Alps. No one knows how to torture him better than his own mind.

The wind rises sharp and icy, lifting sleets of frost with it, and a chill rolls down Steve’s spine. It’s not the cold, though.

It’s fear, congealing like a dead weight in the pit of his stomach. The show is about to begin. And he’s watched it all to the end countless times before.

“Steve?”

His head whips around, and Bucky’s right there, like he always is. A fixed point, unchanged, unmovable, his boots sinking soundlessly in the thick layer of snow beneath them.

He looks so beautiful, so oddly alive against the backdrop of his desolate place; a man at the peak of his youth, the pink of his cheeks nearly glowing next to the deep blue of his uniform, his hair combed to a movie-star shine, parted neatly to the side. It’s cruel, how perfect he is. Preserved like a cherished heirloom in Steve’s mind, never fading, never aging; a living picture, soft and rosy-cheeked. He belongs in a dance hall, in a crowded street, in the cheerful chaos of the fourth of July, in the color and noise of fireworks, in the tangle of ooh’s and aah’s under the firelit sky. He doesn’t belong here. But he’ll never leave this place.

“What are you doing here?” Bucky’s head tilts to the side, confused. “You left a long time ago.”

“Bucky,” Steve tries to say, but the name dies on his lips.

The light in Bucky’s eyes dulls to a flicker, carrying a heavy gloom over his features. He looks so sad, all of a sudden. He never looked sad when Steve was around, Steve remembers that – and Steve never learned how to make it better.

He can never make this better.

“Steve.” All the color’s draining from his cheeks, quickly, leaving only the paleness of death behind. His eyes – they pierce right through Steve, empty and cold, so cold, and Steve shudders from head to toe.

“I waited for you for so long,” Bucky’s blue lips say, with a mournful lilt Steve used to hear in his mother’s voice when she would sing to him, all those heart-twisting songs about a home she’d never see again. “Where were you?”

Something dark spreads from within across the pristine blue of Bucky’s coat, dripping slowly from his shoulder, black like ink–

blood

– smothering the rich color underneath, reaching down, down–

he fell

– down along Bucky’s arm, until it’s streaking the back of his hand–

blood, it’s blood, he fell, he’s going to fall

– pooling ruby-dark at Bucky’s fingertips.

Soon the drops will spill all over the fresh snow, staining it red, too.

“You left me here.”

Steve can’t breathe.

“Why did you leave me here, Steve?”

Steve can’t breathe.

“I’m so sorry,” he gasps, and the next breath stings in his lungs, ice-cold and merciless, “I’m so sorry, Bucky, so sorry. It’s all my fault, all my fault,” he chants, hands clawing at his own chest. But what will it help? He can’t undo this. He can never undo this. “I should have held onto you,” he sobs brokenly, and it’s strange, how he can never tell when he starts crying in his dreams, but he always feels the tears streaming down his face, real as his grief is real, clogging up his throat. “I never should have let you fall.”

Bucky steps forward, dark blood trailing behind him on the ground. Steve’s heart jolts like a spooked horse, pounding loud and fast with adrenaline.

“Why didn’t you look for me?”

He sounds so gentle. So devastatingly sad.

“Did I mean so little to you?”

Steve shakes his head, No, no, no, everything, you meant everything, always, I swear, tears flicking off the edge of his jaw to be lost in the snow-packed wind. “I t-thought you were dead,” he sobs, like he’s still curled up into the blown-up flank of that train, like he’s still got his face pressed to the ice-burn of its metal and praying for everything to end, now, before reality can reshape itself around him and tell him that Bucky is gone forever.

Something mean slithers behind Bucky’s eyes. “And you would have left my body to the wolves?” he says, his voice dangerously sharp over the moaning wind. “You didn’t think I deserved a proper burial?”

It’s snowing on the outside, but it’s inside that Steve feels ice gripping at his guts.

“You could have sent me home to my folks.”

It burns.

“To my sisters.”

It burns so bad, the shame crackling under his skin.

“At least then my family would have had a body to cry over. But it never even occurred to you, did it.”

Steve’s tongue feels glued to the roof of his mouth. “I’m so sorry,” he pushes out uselessly, “I’m so sorry, I should’ve–”

“Or did you think that I was like you?” Bucky presses on, a cruel sneer forming on his white face. “Is that it? You fooled yourself so nice, you really thought I was like you? Like poor little Stevie? With no one left in the world who would miss me? No one who would even care if I was dead or alive?” He pauses, lips curling as though a new and amusing thought only just occurred to him. “Oh. Stevie, no. Did you think you were my whole world? Are you really that pathetic?”

“No,” Steve rasps, swallowing back tears and still drowning, drowning in them, “I never thought, I never– Please, Buck, I’m so sorry–”

Bucky’s silhouette blinks in and out of sight, and when he comes back, one moment later, he’s standing right before Steve, so close he need only reach out to touch him. His sneer is gone, but the depth of hurt in his eyes slices at Steve’s heart just as sharply.

“They took me, Stevie. You left me behind and they took me. Look,” he says, showing Steve the torn flesh where his left arm used to be – it was here just a moment ago, it was, Steve could swear it, it was right here – the bloody pulp of it, a frayed shard of white bone jutting out through the ripped muscle, sickening. His mouth, when Steve can finally look back, is curled back to show his teeth, the smile almost kind if it didn’t feel like a knife tearing at Steve’s own flesh. “This is all your doing. Isn’t it pretty?” Bucky tells him sweetly. “Tell me it’s pretty, Steve. Tell me it’s pretty.”

Without warning, Bucky’s hand darts up to clamp around Steve’s chin, gripping his face viciously. His touch is like ice, searing painfully into Steve’s skin, and Steve staggers in place, helpless but to look right into Bucky’s wide, desperate eyes.

“I was so scared,” Bucky whispers, hot tears spilling over his deathly pale cheeks. “I was locked in that place for so long, I couldn’t tell day from night anymore. It was so cold, and I was so alone, so alone without you, Stevie.”

His fingernails claw into Steve’s skin until they’re drawing blood, and Steve can only sob, can only take it, can only hope this will sate the hollowness he sees in Bucky’s eyes, if only for an instant. But it won’t, he knows it won’t. It never does.

If he could kneel at Bucky’s feet and beg for his forgiveness, keep him warm with the heat of his own tears, wash the blood away–

“I thought I was going to die. Every time they dragged me back to that table, I would tell myself, this is it. This is how it’s going to end,” Bucky tells him gently, nodding his head. “Sometimes, I even thought I should end it myself, before they could. But do you know what the worst part was? I didn’t die. No matter how bad I wanted it, none of the stuff they put me through ever did it. Hope kept me alive,” he snarls, soft through his bloodied smile. “That was my curse. I believed in you. I thought you would find me, save me. I told them you would come for me, and they laughed in my face, Stevie! They knew better.”

The sound that spills from Bucky’s mouth is the twisted, poisoned imitation of a laugh, emptied of all feeling, sharp like fingernails scraped across a blackboard.

“Don’t say that,” Steve whimpers, shaking his head, “please, don’t say that, no.” And he’d cover his ears if he could, lock that ugly truth out of his mind forever, but no muscle in his body will move until Bucky’s done with him.

“Do you know what happened then, Steve? You do know, don’t you?” Bucky asks, thrusting his face into Steve’s until only mere inches separate the tips of their noses – his eyes staring into Steve’s, a creeping echo of insanity gleaming from their depths. “They took my arm first, and then they took everything else.”

Hell. This is Hell.

“Because of you.”

This is what true torment looks like. No fire and brimstone, no howling souls of the damned, no blazing hail raining down upon him.

“It was always because of you.”

Just him and Bucky’s ghost, and a winter that never thaws.

“Bucky...”

The snowstorm rises against him with violence, angry, roaring in Steve’s ears, spreading frost over his chest, his arms, his bare face, freezing the tears caught in his eyelashes. Quiet, it demands. Don’t you speak to me. You have no right to speak to me.

But the yawning hole in Steve’s chest won’t stop screaming at him, starved for forgiveness, for a respite, for a mercy he never earned.

“Please, Buck... please...”

Bucky’s hand guides him down, pushing him to his knees. He crouches over Steve, gaze locked with his, heedless of the blood dripping dark and thick between his fingers; leaning in like he’s about to share a secret.

“I held out until I just couldn’t anymore. I tried to be strong, for you,” Bucky says in a harsh whisper. “But you never came.” His face, twisted by grief, wet with new tears. Steve cups it in his palms, but it’s no use: he can’t soothe this hurt. It’s too late now.

“Bucky, Bucky, sweetheart, forgive me– please, forgive me...”

Bucky’s grip on him relents; his fingers smear red over Steve’s cheek, four bloody streaks, and he strokes his knuckles over them, unbearably gentle.

“I waited for you for so long,” he says, mournful. His face is as cold as ice between Steve’s hands, stinging, burning. “Why didn’t you look for me?”

It hurts, it hurts so bad, so deep inside Steve’s heart.

“Why didn’t you look for me?”

The wind surges up around them, rattling Steve’s bones from within. The snow’s soaking into his pants, swallowing up his knees, colder, colder, the blizzard’s smothering him, blinding him, only Bucky’s eyes bright in his vision, crying, accusing, screaming, screaming, screaming–

“WHY DIDN’T YOU LOOK FOR ME?”

-

Steve jerked awake in the darkness, gasping for breath, a handful of sheets clutched dangerously tight in his fist. He barely even registered the soft, alarmed noise coming from the other side of the bed.

“Steve? It’s all right, you’re safe now.”

His eyes scoured the dark bedroom frantically, fighting through the chilling veil of ice still creeping at the edge of his vision. His heart hammered loud like thunder in his ears, pulsing so wildly in his throat, he thought for a moment that it would burst out of his body.

“Steve.”

Where was he?

The mountains–

“It was just a dream. You’re safe now, I promise. You’re home.”

His gaze focused on the only source of light: the faint glow filtering in through the blinds, the familiar orange hue of the street lights in their neighborhood, casting a striped pattern on the floor. A rug, there was a rug there – and a pair of slippers flicked just a bit too far from the bed.

“Come back to me, baby.”

The crumpled lumps of two discarded socks, that never made it to the hamper – oh, Bucky hated it when he did that.

“Sweetheart, can you look at me?”

A flicker of white–

– snow–

– Alpine, uncurling from her favorite spot and slipping soundlessly out of the room.

“Can you look at me? Steve.”

He turned his head towards the sound, staring wide-eyed into the shadows until finally, the outline of Bucky’s body emerged, sitting only an arm’s length away from him.

“That’s it, that’s good, Stevie.”

There was kindness in his voice, but his brow was creased with worry. His torso was half-twisted towards Steve, his body poised as though ready to reach out for him, but Bucky hadn’t touched him yet. Good, that was good. No. It hurt. That hurt.

Steve swallowed.

“Breathe with me, sweetheart. Can you do that? For me? Slow and easy, c’mon, with me.”

It was only then that Steve became aware of his own heavy breaths, the harsh sound of which filled up the room, gasp after gasp. He let go of the sheets and lay his hand on his own chest, where he could feel his pounding heartbeat, and tried to match Bucky’s calm, measured breathing as best as he could. He thought he was going to throw up.

“That’s it, just like that,” Bucky encouraged him.

Bucky–

Something flashed before Steve’s eyes; a fragment of a pale white face, with sneering lips and blood-stained teeth, taunting him with its cruel laughter.

You left me behind and they took me.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. It was just a dream, it wasn’t real.”

Bucky shifted minutely on the bed, and a fleck of light caught the metal plates of his arm, a silver gleam darting quickly in the night.

Steve’s chin trembled. His throat closed up.

They took my arm first, and then they took everything else.

The tears came back before he could stop them, gathering hotly behind his eyes, pressing urgently to spill over.

“Bucky,” he choked out, and in the next moment he was crawling into Bucky’s open arms, curling his shaking body into Bucky’s sturdy frame. Bucky cradled him close, rubbing a soothing hand between Steve’s shoulder blades as Steve sobbed freely, pouring all of his anguish in the crook of Bucky’s neck.

“W-when you fell,” Steve stammered pitifully, clutching at the back of Bucky’s t-shirt with the desperation of a drowning man, “I should have come looking for you, I should’ve been there, should’ve– should’ve brought you back, I–”

“No, no, Steve,” Bucky rumbled, rocking him gently in his arms, “don’t do this to yourself. Please, baby, I’m begging you.”

Steve shook his head no, hiding himself deeper into the nook offered by Bucky’s neck, just beneath the hinge of his jaw. His chest felt too tight, too full – like a balloon filled with water and straining to contain it, the paper-thin skin tense to the point of bursting.

“I should have come for you, they – they never would have taken you, I wouldn’t have let them,” he stumbled on helplessly, “I would have died first! God, I would’ve... I would have died first, I swear, Buck, I swear...”

Bucky stroked his hand over Steve’s hair, kissing the spot above the shell of his ear, dark with cold sweat. Steve felt the dampness of it across his whole body, under the clinging cotton of his pyjamas, the unpleasant moisture cooling on his skin and leaving him to shudder in Bucky’s embrace.

“Look at me,” Bucky called softly. It was a simple request, laced with just the same gentleness Bucky would use sometimes to coax Alpine into his arms, but still Steve felt panic pool in his stomach.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t bear to look Bucky in the eye, not like this. Not when the truth – Because of you. It was always because of you. – was out at last.

What a scam he was. A whole lifetime spent preaching bravery, and the one time it truly mattered, he couldn’t even be brave enough to face the consequences of his own mistakes.

Please, don’t hate me, he sobbed silently against Bucky’s neck. You should. You have every right to. But please... please...

“Sweetheart, please, look at me.”

It took more strength than Steve had ever even known he possessed, but slowly, hesitantly, he let himself be pulled out of his hiding spot, and lifted his gaze to meet Bucky’s, if only for a fleeting moment.

Bucky’s flesh hand reached up to cup his jaw, working his thumb tenderly over Steve’s skin to wipe his tears away – a sweet, but fruitless endeavor, as more salty tears rolled down Steve’s cheeks, relentless.

“The truth is, neither of us could have known I would survive that fall,” Bucky said.

Steve shook his head, his eyes screwed shut against the flood of fresh tears. “I should’ve tried anyway, I should have come to you. I should have been there with you.”

Bucky grasped him by the arms, barely squeezing at all. The force wasn’t in his touch; it was in his voice, quiet to match the nighttime gloom, but firm nonetheless.

“What if they had taken you, too? What if they’d made you like me, what then?” he said, an edge of desperation coloring his voice, as if he couldn’t bear the very thought. “Do you think you could have lived with yourself, if you’d woken up one day to find that you had the blood of innocents on your hands?”

Steve’s head snapped up then, heat flashing fiercely in his chest. “What would I have cared, when you were there with me!” he cried out, panting heavily in the wake of that outburst.

Perhaps he couldn’t call this bravery; but when Steve could breathe again, their eyes finally met again.

If he’d feared he would see hate, or disdain, or resentment looking back at him, he didn’t find any of those. What he did find instead, staring at him from Bucky’s ever-familiar face, was the stubborn mark of love, shimmering brightly in Bucky’s eyes.

“Of course you would have cared,” Bucky whispered fiercely, cradling Steve’s face in both of his hands. “It would have killed you, and it would have killed me too. I could have never, ever forgiven myself, if they’d gotten their filthy hands on you because of me.”

His voice wavered, heavy with the weight of unshed tears. Steve could see the glossy sheen of them, threatening to spill over Bucky’s cheeks any second now, and felt his own heart split in two at the sight.

“Bucky,” he rasped, wetly, clasping Bucky’s wrists with his own hands to hold onto them, turning his face into those beloved palms to kiss them helplessly, one and then the other. Bucky never stopped holding him.

“Listen to me,” he said urgently, “listen to me now. We can’t change the past. We can’t, Steve.” A new sob ripped itself painfully from Steve’s throat, one he couldn’t have helped if he wanted to. “We can’t. It’s done, it’s there, we can’t take it back. And God, do I wish we could, believe me. But I want you to hear me when I say this: I am so grateful for what we have now. In the present. Our present.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath that rippled through his whole frame, as he openly struggled to keep his words clear and his voice steady. He was always the braver one, Steve thought, thrusting one of his hands out to grab a fistful of Bucky’s t-shirt, right over his breastbone.

“Steve. God, could you have ever dreamed that we could have this? I never even dared to hope for something like it, not even on my best days.”

He paused. Steve clung to him, his chest tight with emotion.

“The way we got here... Would I have chosen that? If I’d been given a choice, would I have wanted it to happen like that? No, of course not,” Bucky continued. “But if you asked me now, would I do it all over again, just for a chance to be here with you? I would say yes.” Steve whimpered, shaking his head, tears rolling down his face; but Bucky held him firmly, looking him right in the eye and nodding just as stubbornly, a watery smile on his lips. “Yes, Steve. Yes. A million times yes.”

He broke at last, and Steve lost what little control he had of himself. He tugged Bucky forward by his shirt and threw his arms around him, crushing their bodies together as if his life depended on it. Bucky returned the embrace with that same urgency, holding him tight as Steve muffled his sobs against Bucky’s shoulder, and buried his face in Steve’s hair in return.

The pinprick-like sensation of Bucky’s tears wetting his skin, as Bucky trembled quietly against him, felt like a bruise to Steve’s naked heart.

“Forgive me,” he begged, and he couldn’t have said what it was that he was seeking forgiveness for: if the pain he had caused Bucky now, or the one he couldn’t prevent so long ago.

“There is nothing to forgive,” Bucky murmured in his ear, his voice thick. “But I’ll say it, if you need to hear it.”

“Please,” Steve whimpered.

Bucky hugged him impossibly closer. “I forgive you. Always, sweetheart.”

The tightness within Steve’s chest unraveled, and in that moment, he breathed anew. Relief washed over him – and he cried, and cried, like a person cries when they’re gifted with kindness for the first time in a very, very long time, he cried until he thought he’d exhausted all his tears.

Bucky laid them both back against his pillow, chest to chest, shushing Steve’s hiccupping breaths with whispers of sweet nothings, never once letting him go.

“All that’s left to do now,” he said softly then, pressing a kiss to Steve’s brow, “is for you to forgive yourself.”

Steve burrowed deeper into his warmth, spent.

It would take a long time for that, and a tough, strenuous walk on the tortuous path towards that healing place. In the meantime, though, he could wrap himself into the safety of Bucky’s arms, and slip into a dreamless sleep for once.

[moonclade]

Hey! Doing good I hope?

I’ll make this request quick, I was thinking of a Percy x Melinoe!reader? Since her mother is known as a minor goddess of nightmares and ghosts, people are either afraid of her or doesn’t care about her that much. She even hangs out with ghosts more than people, but of course, dear ol’ Percy is curious of her and tries to befriend her? You know, a good strangers to lovers. Is this good? If not, just tell me so I can fix it!

note ― i'm so rusty when it comes to writing about pjo but i really hope i did well with this! (also sorry it took so long, i wasn't able to work on it for a week). i didn't want to make this like 20k words long, so i didn't really include the bridge from acquaintances to lovers

not proofread || lowercase intended & lots of use of the word "you"

1.5k words

the sun smiles as it burns your skin, and you scowl as the blinding rays make it unbearable for you to even stare ahead. as usual, you were wandering around camp, attempting to find something to do.

you really didn't know why you bothered. considering the fact that you always reverted to your normal routine of finding a bench and reading. and if you were lucky enough to find a shaded and secluded spot, you might even have someone to talk to.

that someone being whatever spirit would bother entertaining you. obviously not any of the other demigods, as majority of them never tried befriending you or were simply scared of the fact you were the daughter of such a "dark" goddess. of course, a few of the other campers didn't mind your family and your abilities, such as nico di angelo. the two of you weren't close, but he always acknowledged you whenever you would lock eyes. he was definitely your favorite at camp.

you never understood why people were scarfed of you just because of your mom. it was laughable honestly, and it led you to have a slight resentment for everyone who actively avoided you. daughter of a goddess of nightmares and ghosts, being invisible and feared by everyone. very ironic.

being alone took a while to get used to, but you eventually made it work out, opting for the quiet whispers of the long-passed spirits. they never judged you, although a few definitely make fun of your isolation.

not finding any activity to do, you decided to read a book you were itching to finish instead of conversing with your little clique of ghosts. your eyes lit up as you found the perfect spot to sit, away from prying eyes and the harsh beams of sunlight.

making yourself comfortable, you found your marked page and started where you left off, ready to finally get this book out the way and start a new one.

suddenly, a blocky figure blocks the sparse amount of light you were using to read. you look up to see, surprisingly, percy jackson.

you were confused and a bit intrigued. you've never interacted with him, but you always admired him from afar. he was a role model to you, both socially and when it comes to slaying monsters.

you would never admit you studied him thoroughly, usually in the light of the campfire, watching as he would crack a joke and then burst into a grin and let out a hearty laugh.

you were definitely jealous of him. that's all.

"i've seen you around camp. (name), right?" he questioned.

a nod was all he received. you looked around for the inevitable group of campers laughing at this interaction, but you saw none. relaxing a little, you lock eyes with his striking sea-colored ones.

"i'm bad with words." you respond, shaking your head. you avert your gaze back to the book you were reading. a romance, and an undeniably cliche one at that.

you loved reading about things that weren't commonplace in your life, like fantasy, but especially romance. everyone was too scared of you for you to even imagine about having a relationship or a love life in general. every crush that developed in your heart was quickly stowed away until it eventually died off.

"it's alright. i never see you talking to anyone around camp." he takes a seat on the bench, a reasonable distance away from you that it wouldn't seem he was uncomfortable with you, like most campers, but not close enough to make it awkward for you.

"never have to, everyone too terrified of my "sinister aura" and prowess in war. and also, my mom." you slightly joke, not wanting him to pity you or something along those lines. he tilted his head like he was going to say something in response to your slightly self-deprecating statement.

"you talk like a book." he blurted. you didn't know if you should take that as a compliment, but even with the short time you've talked with percy, you knew he wouldn't mean it as an insult. just a weirdly phrased statement.

"y'know, in a poetic way." he sheepishly rubbed his neck as you stared at him. the corners of your lips upturned, and he calmed down a little knowing that you didn't take offense.

"you talk a lot," you counter. "but in a good way."

he returns a smile and notices the book you had been slowly inching away from his view.

"what's that about?"

oh my gods. you weren't getting out this one.

"it's just a little romance," you rub your wrists awkwardly, hoping he wouldn't ask for a more in-depth answer.

but the gods were not in your favor today.

"but what is it about?" he quirked an eyebrow at your unwillingness to elaborate on the plot.

"it's just about a boy and a girl meeting randomly and they slowly fall in love at a summer camp. really cliche and probably boring to you." the book made it into his hands as he scanned the front cover art, not bothering to open the book and attempt to read it, thankfully. you could guess why though.

"at a summer camp?"

"i like reading about stuff that could be relatable to me," you shrugged.

"well is it relatable?" he seemed interested.

"do you always ask so many questions?" you grumble. "and no, not really. do you think i have a love life here?"

every answer was turning into a question, followed by another question.

he looked you up and down and smirked. "you don't?"

you swipe your book back and roll your eyes. "yes, jackson. you do realize i have more ghost friends than living ones, right?"

"adds on to the charm. now, tell me more about what happens in the book."

you groan outwardly, but on the inside, you were giddy at finally being able to talk to someone, especially percy.

giving in, you begin to go off on the plot and major events in the story, and your opinions on characters.

before the two of you knew it, the sun was already cut in half by the horizon and the sky was a flurry of colors slowly being overtaken by the dark blues and blacks of the evening.

"how about we meet here again tomorrow?" percy asks.

you were already warming up to the son of poseidon. it could be because you haven't talked to another human in a long time, or he had that vibe to him that let you feel safe.

sometimes you would go and hang out with him and his group, but you didn't know for sure if they liked you that much. it took you months to even decide if percy himself considered you a friend or not.

majority of time you'd go back to that same bench you met him at, and if he was free, he'd meet you there and the two of you would talk about how the book you were reading was going or just how life was going.

but the bench wasn't the only place you hung out. percy would invite you to spar with him or walk around camp, or take part in events going around camp. slowly but surely, more people warmed up to you as they noticed the bond you and percy had. you were still wary and apprehensive of those people though, knowing they judged you even though they didn't know you. but it was a welcome change.

it was half past noon, and you make your way over to your and percy's rendezvous point to hang out for the day. the battered wooden bench that was now carved with quotes and drawings that spanned the seat.

you didn't have to even wait a minute, percy jogging up to you with a hand behind his back.

"what're you hiding?" you try and peer over his shoulder but he moves the object out of your sight.

"well," he looks around everywhere but you, before taking in a big breath and finally meeting your gaze. "i really like you!" he shows you the assortment of flowers most likely picked from the forest nearby.

you process his statement. the percy jackson likes you? never in a thousand years would you have thought that someone could have a crush on you, but never ever would you have dreamed of percy liking you.

it was like your life was turned upside down ever since you met him. you managed to finally have someone to talk to, and also get people to stop fearing you. and it was all because of him. he was the saint in your life.

"hey, it's alright if you don't like me bac-" you cut him off quickly by pressing your lips on his. sure you weren't an experienced kisser, but you've read enough to know how to shut him up.

he went from stiff in surprise to leaning into the kiss, the bouquet long forgotten on the ground. you couldn't get enough of him, throwing your arms around his shoulders and bringing him closer. he slipped his hands around your waist, a shiver running down your back at the touch.

he pulled away, and you clung onto him, not wanting his warmth to leave you.

after a moment of bated breath, you piped up.

"i love you too, percy."

[leaentries]

🎄let’s go make gingerbread houses w Jamie!

this is adorable!

lea’s christmas special!

It was officially Christmas time in the Drysdale household.

Colorful lights had been strung from high and low. Paired with a giant Christmas tree in the living room, all decked out with bright ornaments and garland.

The entire house smelled of the delicious cookie architecture that now sat upon the cooling racks in the kitchen. Bags of many colored icing laid patiently on the table, waiting for tonight’s activity.

You decided that Jamie needed a little pick-me-up since both him and Trevor were out for time being. You had helped occupy his mind with decorating early, but now that you have seemed to buy every decoration known to man; you needed an alternative.

Homemade Gingerbread Houses

After Jamie had left for his physical therapy, you quickly rummaged up a gingerbread recipe and went to the store. Luckily, since it was still pretty early in the season, all of the ingredients were stocked and ready.

Once you got back home, you immediately started baking the soft brown dessert. Wanting to ensure the perfect consistency for your building, you followed the recipe to the last dot.

Although, premade icing was definitely a better option since Jamie would be home any second and the gingerbread was fresh out of the oven.

You continued to set up the kitchen table, putting out all sorts of different candies and treats to use for the houses.

Finishing up the final touches, you heard the front door open, signaling Jamie’s return. He set his bag down, before making his way over to you.

“Hi, baby” He placed a gentle kiss on your lips, “What’s all this?” He asked with a small smile gracing his lips as he looked around.

“I wanted to do something fun with you tonight,” You beamed up at him, “Let’s make gingerbread houses!”

Jamie laughed at how exited you were, love swimming in his eyes. He truly did love you.

After you guys brought the racks over to the table, you began making your gingerbread houses. To spice things up, you and Jamie decided to make it a competition.

Yet, when you looked over to see how Jamie was doing, you noticed he was failing…miserably.

His cookie walls would not stay up right and his icing was going everywhere. At some point, he had even thrown on some m&ms to try and help but they just looked sad.

You stopped putting the finishing touches on your own house, moving to sit closer to Jamie.

“Jams, do you need some help?” You tried to hide your laughter, avoiding his eyes.

“Stop laughing y/n! It’s not funny,” Jamie pouted, “I’ve never been good at making gingerbread houses. They just don’t make sense!”

There was no hiding your amusement after his rant.

“Doesn’t make sense? Jamie it’s basic knowledge! You just line the edges with icing and lean them against each other.” He gave you a unamused look, “Would you like me to help you?”

Jamie bit the inside of his cheek, clearly debating whether or not he wanted to be stubborn with you. He reluctantly nodded his head, accepting your help.

You grabbed a new set of cookies, guiding his hands to place them delicately. By the end of the night, you had successfully helped Jamie make the perfect gingerbread house.

Jamie helped you clean up the mess, wiping down all of the countertops and the table. He walked back over to where you were displaying the delicious house.

“Thank you for helping me, baby,” He wrapped his arms around you from behind, placing his head on your shoulder, “You earned a reward for the best gingerbread architect.”

You smiled, spinning around in his arms.

You met your lips with his, swiping your tongue along his bottom lip. His grip on your hips tightened, pulling you impossibly closer. But before he could deepen the kiss, you pulled away.

“I’m still telling everyone you don’t know how to make a gingerbread house.” You placed one more quick peck on his lips, before skipping away happily to your shared room.

“Don’t you dare!”

[altheasmeadow]

Nothing To Worry About

WC: 697

Pairing: Minho x reader

Marrying by convenience was never the plan, she truly thought she’d marry the love of her life. But being the heiress of many large businesses, she didn’t have much time for love, until he came. He had been her light in the dark, always there to make her feel a little less lonely throughout her young adult years, She honestly woud’ve married him, things don’t always work out that way.

“So who all is going to be at this dinner?” Lee Minho her husband wondered aloud as he dressed her up all pretty. It was one of the things she enjoyed about the arranged marriage. Minho loved dressing up both himself and her, so she never had to worry about looking the part. 

“The Seo family, the Kim family, the Park family and the Bang family.”

“Kim…” He hummed, knowing that their heir was your first choice of marriage leaving a sour taste in his mouth and a tight feeling in his chest. Though they hadn’t picked to be partners it was very apparent the two had gotten very close in the time they’ve been together, feelings were developing but clouded by the fact that it wasn’t necessarily their choice to be together so neither tried to acknowledge the feelings.

“Yes.”

“As in Kim Seungmin?” He wondered yet again, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“Yea, they’re partners with my father.”

“I’m aware.”

The rest of the getting ready was done in silence, she was lost in her thoughts and he was lost in her, wondering if she would be okay after their nasty breakup. 

“Are you ready?” He wondered, reaching a hand out to grasp hers arning only a weak nod in return, his neutral expression turning into a frown.

The two headed off to their business dinner yet again in silence which was not a common occurrence the two could talk about everything under the sun any time of day usually. Even their personal driver looked on with discomfort.

“Do I look okay?” She wondered as he helped her out of the car, his face twisting into offense.

“You never second guess my picking, do I have something to be worried about meeting with the Kim family?” Minho was never one to be insecure but he was definitely prone to jealousy, loving to make it completely clear that she was with him without her knowing, like matching jewlery or color coordinating their outfits. It was a subtle thing but almost every always knew they were together and never bothered to try and get between the two.

“Ah Lee’s lovely to see you guys!” Mrs. Kim greeted, getting up to hug her son’s ex and her husband. All parties at the table took their turns greeting the couple until Kim Seungmin stepped up with a sheepish grin on his face.

“I believe congratulations are in order. The Ceremony was beautiful. Could’ve done with some blue though.” He hummed before turning on his heel and walking away leaving her to balk at the broas shoulders.

“Blue?” Minho wondered, feeling a little confused and annoyed.

“He wanted blue in our wedding, it wasn’t my ideal thing but I agreed when he and I had spoken, before the ordeal.” She explained quietly, trying to shake off her shock at the man’s boldness.

“You guys planned a wedding?”

“He planned it, he wanted to get power of the companies as fast as he could so within a few months he was already shoving wedding plans down my throat.” 

“So what I’m hearing is there is absolutely nothing to worry about because he’s a psycho that you will never be interested in again?” He teased, leaning in next to her face with a grin, happy that the perfect kim son he had heard so much about had a flaw.

She hummed turning to face him a little better and placed a quick but efficient kiss on his lips causing the feline-like man to reel back slightly in shock but far from discontent.

“Nothing to worry about at all.” and the silent promise was all he needed to swoop down grasping her waist in his hands and pulling her as tight as humanly possible.

[threads-makomo]

Takes some Kite headcanons because I love him to much and he's all I think about anymore and he deserves more love, I tried to keep this as gender neutral as I could!! Most of it is just kinda rants about what I think he'd be like and shit, but yeah

Sfw:

He's Demiromantic and demisexual. Tell me I'm wrong cause I'm not

Definitely kept his exam pin and wears it on his hat

Probably has like the blandest closet, I'm sorry, he knows how to like style but all of his clothes have no color to them

Naturally really cold, his hands and nose especially

Pretty light sleeper unless he just came back from an expedition, then he's out out, snoring and all

Motherfucker knows where everything is at all times of the day, you lost your phone? Oh yeah Kite knows where it is, forgot where you left your favorite book at? Kite remembers the exact place and time you put it down

Sleeps on his back unless you two are spooning

Definitely listens to Lesley Gore, Tears For Fears, Arctic Monkeys and maybe a little bit of Gorillaz and Icp

Can play Guitar and sing beautifully, probably sings a little while he's doing chores just so he isn't doing it in silence

Smells like smoke and like a pine tree, or more like sandalwood

KITE WITH HIS HAIR IN A BUN >>>>

Takes either scorching hot showers or ice baths, no in between with him, if your showering with him he'd definitely adjust it so your not burning/freezing to death

Will melt if you play with his hair, just imagine laying in a little field and Kite has his head laying in your lap while you play with his hair and you both talk

If you ask him to play with your hair though he happily would, he'd probably do it while you both are cuddling without even realizing it

Everytime he comes back from expeditions he typically comes back with some flowers from the region he was in

Probably owns some type of animal, cat, dog, fish, snake, bird, horse

Probably really interested In eels out of all animals

Anemic as fuck

I've gotta be the one to say it, Kite is autistic.

Albino Kite?

Makes the best fucking meals, sir could you make me some potatoes, I love potatoes 🙏🙏

If your a hunter and you ask him nicely he'll take you on expeditions and adventures

And even if you aren't he still would, you'd just have to sweet talk him extra hard into it

Will die on the spot of your wear his hat or sweater, or both, he thinks you look so pretty

He got snake bites awhile back, he got one torn out during a fight and he lost the other while working on a project

Perfect fucking hugs.

Probably smokes whenever he's stressed out, always does it outside though ofc, he's got a strict rule of never smoking in the house, mainly so the house doesn't smell like smoke but also cause he's considerate of you

Would love to have a child with you but if you don't want kids he understands

Nsfw:

He's got such a pretty dick omfg

5.5 when soft, 7 to 7.5 when erect, a little more on the thinner side but still feels absolutely amazing

Pretty red tip that's perfect for kissing

HELP HIM ARGUING WITH CRAZY SLOTS WHILE HE'S TRYING TO FUCK YOU

Definitely a switch, service top by day, obedient good boy by night

Please praise him he'll melt

Absolutely loves eating you out/blowing you, especially if you both have to be somewhere in a few minutes, definitely cums just from doing it too

Please pull his hair, he'd let out the prettiest moans

You guys have probably fucked in a forest atleast twice, that's as Public as things will get though

His nose is very rideable

Six nine six nine six nine. Six nine him, he'll be so fucking red and let out such pretty whimpers

Or hell just ride his face, he's content with that too, either way both of you are cumming hard

Missionary, cowgirl, and spooning are his favorite positions by far, he just like being close to you

Would literally die if you asked to peg him, his face would be so red the whole time but he'd enjoy every second of it, just please be easy with him <3

Would probably thigh fuck you

Plays cbat in the back while he's fucking you

Usually cums in a condom but if you ask him to go without he'll cum wherever you ask him to tbh

Doesn't really have many kinks, loves getting praised and praising you, though could definitely be a brat tamer, maybe some light bondage and foreplay

Sex with him is typically pretty romantic and vanilla, he see's sex more as love making and as just another love language, another way to show his partner how much he loves them

Honestly I just wanted an excuse to talk about Kite, I love Kite, we all deserve a Kite in our life, live laugh love Kite

[gaybananabread]

@pocky-dragon Hello there! First of all I really enjoy your fics and headcannons and I was wondering if you have any headcannons/thoughts on Casey from rottmnt?

(I'm dumb and deleted the ask again-)

🏒Casey Jr Tkl Headcanons💚

~AN: Eergejehhesh my BOOOOOY! Pocky you have no idea how long I've been wanting to do something for this mans- Now that events are done, hopefully I can get back up and running! Thank you for requesting!~

Gen:

Things weren't totally serious, totally crazy all the time in his timeline

Before Raph and Donnie…moved on, everyone was fairly optimistic. I mean, sure, it was the apocalypse, but they had hope.

When Casey was little, all four brothers would take turns playing with him. While each one had very different interactions, they all universally loved doing one thing: tickling him.

After all the sadness, Big Leo still tried to keep things uplifting for the boy.

He rarely full-on tickled him, but a few light pokes or squeezes here and there were the perfect thing to put a smile on the teen’s face.

Big Mikey would abuse his powers and sneak up behind Casey, squeezing his sides or teasing his neck.

Occasionally, when the boy was really down in the dumps, holding his arms while Big Leo cheered him up with some tickles.

Lee:

Let's all be honest here: he's a lee. No matter how hard he tries, he always ends up getting his ass handed to him.

Not that he doesn't adore it, of course.

He sees it as a fun way to bond with his new family, even if they do tease the shell out of him.

Worst spots are his hips, belly button and armpits. He likes all of them, though his melt spot is his palms; the best snorty-giggles stem from there.

Bushiest boi, will turn red as fresh cherries if you tease him right~

While he loves tickles from the whole Hamato fam, his favorite lers would have to be Raph and Leo.

He never really got to know Big Raph, but young him is a giant, compassionate teddy bear. A teddy bear that also happens to have a night job as a professional tickle monster!

As for Leo, he'd always felt close to the blue-themed turtle. Besides the obvious connections to his Leo, the guy’s just fun to be around.

The jokes get him giggling, and he feels safe around Leo.

Reigning loser of every tickle fight ever.

He's won maybe twice. Once against a very sleepy Leo, and again with a partner.

Self-conscious about his laugh, but the fam works daily to try and help him jump that hurdle! -♡

Little pill bug: his first response to anything tickly, from pokes to full-on tickled, is curling up into a tiny ball.

Adorable to watch, and even cuter to hear his little squeal when you get to his spots anyway!

Ler:

Rarely happens, but he's still not bad!

Really giggly ler, likes to laugh with his lee.

Definitely gets flustered when someone asks to be tickled by him.

Again, rare, but it does occasionally happen.

He's afraid of hurting them, so only the gentlest of tickles and little scritches unless/until they ask for more.

When he does tickle someone, it's usually Leo, Mikey or April.

Leo is a sorta-undercover angst lord, and Casey likes to hear him laugh when he's bummed or overthinking things.

Mikey is just playful. He'll annoy Casey, mostly on purpose, and get what's coming to him. Other times, he'll be attempting to help the artsy turtle with his makeup and tickle him with the brushes. Intentional or not, I'll let you decide…

With April, it's almost always circumstantial. Dragged into a random tickle fight, Raph asking for backup, Donnie needing someone to do his dirty work.

April tickles him more than he ever gets her. Very few times does it happen, but he's capable of giving revenge tickles.

Doesn't usually tease, but he will compliment his lee's laugh and/or reactions.

“I love your laugh, it's so happy!” “Hey, don't be ashamed of the blush. Red's a good color on you!” “Was that a snort? No, don't hide it, that's adorable!”

It took a while to get to that point, but with self confidence and a whole family of support, he can finally start putting himself out there. Even if it is with something as goofy as tickling.

[medusapelagia]

Running From The Daylight - Part 1

Part 1 - (coming soon Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15)

This is going to be a long fic with A LOT of whump to fill every @whumpuary prompt, so it's obviously an exaggeration and, even if I did some research, I decided to use only things that were useful to me, so imagination and suspension of disbelief are fundamental! 😂 There will be A LOT of inaccuracies about almost everything! You are warned!

Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Prompt: Snow WT: none Words: 1532

Eddie sighs, looking at the white blanket around the chalet that Steve booked for their first holiday together. The landscape is incredible, the chalet warm and comfortable but Eddie misses the chaos that always seems to surround him: the only sound in that stupid chalet is the crackling open fire, which is nice, don’t get him wrong, but after two days of white snow and crackling fireplace he is definitely bored to dead.

Steve has brought snowshoes and ski suits, but Eddie is not going for a walk in the mountain's freezing air, so they resolved to stay in the chalet and spend their time together, which is great! They never have time to be together but now Eddie is really bored out of his mind. The stupid television gets only a couple of local channels that are always giving news about the small village on the slope of the mount or teleshopping and even their stupid phones have almost no signal and they have to stay near the bathroom window if they want to make a call because that’s the only place in the chalet with at least a little bit of signal.

Steve, on the other side, seems to have found the perfect life for him: he goes out to make firewood, cooks super tasty dinners and fucks his boyfriend on the cow skin rug, which Eddie finds a little bit too much when they have a very comfortable bed but he endures it.

A week.

Steve booked the stupid chalet for an entire week, and Eddie has already read all the books he brought with him and he is so fucking ready to go home, but he knows that Steve worked hard to organize everything, so he sighs for the umpteenth time, feeling like a princess in a high tower, waiting for the Saturday to come and bring him back to Hawkins.

The only perk of his day is seeing Steve getting back from cutting firewood, cheeks colored by the cold and the effort, eyes shining with pride and joy.

“I think we will be good for the next few days.” Steve tells him, dragging some firewood inside, Eddie is pretty sure that they will be good for months but he is not willing to spend more time in that godforsaken place so he nods and kisses Steve on his freezing lips.

“You are freezing. What could I do to make you warm?” Eddie asks, getting closer to the chestnut boy who chuckles “I’m all sweaty, I need a shower.”

“We can shower later. Together.”

***

Ok, maybe Eddie hates the chalet, but cuddling in front of the fireplace, looking at Steve in the warm light is not so bad. He looks so relaxed and comfortable that maybe the metalhead could endure a few more days of boredom just for him. Steve gets closer, rubbing his nose on Eddie's cheek before biting it.

"I want to eat you."

"You just did." Eddie chuckles, thinking about Steve's hot tongue on the most sensible part of his body.

"I want to eat you whole and keep you with me, forever."

"I don't know why but this sounds both terrifying and romantic at the same time. Maybe I'm into murderers." Eddie comments, carding his fingers in Steve's wet hair "We should dry ourselves."

"Don't want to. Wanna stay here on the carpet cuddling with you."

"You'll get sick if you don't dry your hair. Or even worse, you'll get a migraine." Eddie scolds him with a smile.

Steve groans something that sounds pretty close to spoilsport, but in the end, he gets up and they get back to the bathroom: Eddie sits on the toilet while Steve dries his hair. He tried to help him a couple of times but the results were far from good so now they have resolved that Eddie washes Steve's hair and Steve's dries Eddie's curl, is their little ritual: Eddie shakes his head like a wet dog and tries to run away from Steve's comb and when finally Steve gets him Eddie licks Steve's face like a happy puppy while the younger boy complains that he is gross but secretly loves it.

Not today. Today Eddie is sitting on the toilet, like a good boy, watching Steve do his magic trick with hairdryer and hairspray and then get closer to him, combing Eddie's hair with his fingers while gently blowing some not-too-hot air and scratching Eddie's scalp.

"You should do this as a job. You are really good at it." Eddie sighs, while Steve keeps playing with his hair.

"My parents will be elated to know that their fag son should be a hairdresser." he snorts.

"Fuck them. What are they going to do? Be even more disappointed in you?" Eddie asks, his eyes closed, still lost in the pleasurable feelings of having Steve take care of him, when Steve's fingers stop abruptly. Fuck. He opens his eyes, finding Steve avoiding his stare "Shit, Steve, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it."

"No, you are right." The chestnut boy replies, while he keeps drying Eddie's hair "They were always disappointed in me, why not add some more disappointment, right?"

Eddie would like to punch himself in the face, why can't he keep his mouth shut?

"Steve..."

"I'm good."

"No, you are not and I feel like shit because we were having a nice time and I ruined it." Eddie sighs, hiding his face in Steve's t-shirt.

"You didn't ruin anything. You always make everything better." Steve whispers in his hair, kissing the crown of Eddie's head while holding him close and Eddie gets lost in the comforting warmth of Steve's chest and in the stable rhythm of his heartbeat.

"I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that."

"You weren't wrong." Steve repeats, making soothing movements on Eddie's back and he feels even more guilty.

"You know what? Tomorrow we are going for a walk in the snow, how does it sound?" Eddie asks, lifting his head from his cozy hiding place.

"You hate the cold and every kind of physical activity that is not sex. You told me these exact words just yesterday."

"Yesterday I was another person, today I'm a moron who made his boyfriend sad and is trying really hard to cheer him up. What do you say?"

"You don't have to." Steve replies, still drying Eddie's hair "I know you hate the chalet."

"I don't hate the chalet, I might not like the cold, that's true, but I can endure a little walk with my boyfriend if he promises me we will do a snowman after!"

"A snowman?"

Eddie nods, happily "Yeah. A snowman with a carrot as a nose and a stupid hat."

Steve smiles sweetly at him "I think that can be arranged. You know, there are some beautiful places to see here, I made a little map with some really incredible mountain paths. But we have to wake up pretty soon if we want to take advantage of the natural light."

The days at the chalet are shorter than in town, as soon as the sun starts to go down the mountains cover it and it starts to freeze.

"Ok, I swear I'll get up as soon as the alarm goes off, ok?"

***

Maybe Eddie accidentally postponed the alarm a couple of times, ok? But he is still sipping his coffee, wearing the warmest clothes that he owns, already wearing his ski pants and ready to wear his ski jacket before leaving the chalet, while Steve has already made some sandwiches with a thermos of tea, not coffee for Eddie's displeasure, and took some water and whatever they might need.

"We are not going to Mount Doom, are we?" Eddie asks, crunching a cinnamon cookie Steve made the night before.

"When you travel it is always better to be over-prepared." Steve says, checking for the third time if they have everything they might need. They haven't traveled a lot, but every time they have gone on holiday somewhere Eddie has just put a few clothes in a bag, while Steve made the itinerary, booked the hotels, and took care of everything. It's so nice to see him so involved in his preparation, sometimes Eddie mocks him and tells him that he takes everything too seriously, but he loves seeing Steve so absorbed.

"Ok, we should have everything. Have you finished breakfast?"

Eddie nods, takes his cup toward the kitchen, and comes back to the living room; Steve is already wearing his ski pants, and his jacket is on the couch while he helps Eddie get into his ski suit "I feel like a Puft marshmallow man." Eddie complains while Steve closes the last button of his jacket.

"You will be glad you are well covered when we get to the glacier." Steve smirks.

"To the glacier? Are you kidding? Tell me that you are kidding! Steve! Steve!" Eddie calls, following his boyfriend and then they hear a rumbling that gets louder and louder. Eddie goes toward the kitchen to look outside the window but Steve grabs him and drags him away, after that all Eddie can hear it's the static.

[sasusakucoded]

Sasuke as a husband and a girl dad is still learning but he's proud to say that he has cracked 80% of the code. He learned it the hard way but he's getting better dealing with his girls.

At Sakura's office..

Sakura: Anata, do you want to eat something?

Sasuke: /thinks/ She's asking me if I want to eat something. That means she wants to eat right now. Yes!

Sakura: Cool! Let's leave right after my shift.

Sasuke: /thinks/ Hmm. Sarada is not home. So, that means it's a date. Do you want to eat out?

Sakura: *blushes* Really? Sure.. If you also want to..

Sasuke: /thinks/ Good. So, she really wants to eat somewhere. But where? Yeah.. Sakura, where do you want to eat?

Sakura: I'm fine with anything..

Sasuke: /thinks/ She's bluffing. She's definitely not fine with anything. She just does not want to decide. How about we go to a sushi place?

Sakura: Hmm. Yeah.. Maybe..

Sasuke: /thinks/ Maybe.. That means she's not in the mood for sushi. I have to suggest something that she doesn't want as a date place, so she'll suggest something else. How about Ichiraku's?

Sakura: *shakes her head* How about wagyu steak? Let's eat something nice tonight..

Sasuke: /thinks/ Her suggestion is the only option. Yeah, that's perfect.

Sakura: Yay! Let me give this file to Shizune.. Then in 2 hours we can go. *gets up*

Sasuke: /thinks/ There's only one thing left to do. I'll book our reservation for tonight.

Sakura: Thank you, Anata. *smiles* The directory is right beside the phone.

Sasuke: Okay. *smirks; feels accomplished*

---

In the mall..

Sarada: Papa, which one is better? *shows two throw pillows, dark and light colored*

Sasuke: /thinks/ The last time we went out, she took everything that I didn't choose. So, that means we have different tastes.. Hmm. But I really like that navy blue pillow.. This one is better. *points at the light-colored one*

Sarada: Really? I like this one too, Papa! *puts the dark-colored pillow back*

Sasuke: I know..

Sarada: Let's check out the new books? *takes his hand and leads him to the book section*

Sasuke: Do you have anything in mind?

Sarada: Hmm. Yes.. But I'm not sure what to get.. *looking through the aisles*

Sasuke: /thinks/ Okay, she wants me to suggest. But definitely not a dumb or random suggestion. I must know something about the book. *looks around*

Sarada: *picks random books and reads the description*

Sasuke: /thinks/ It should be interesting and the book must not hard bound. She'll probably bring it to her missions and read it in her spare time, so it must be lightweight. Sarada, have you read the works of Akutagawa?

Sarada: Akutagawa? Not yet Papa..

Sasuke: Yeah. Akutagawa Ryunosuke. *gets the book and shows it*

Sarada: *takes it*

Sasuke: He's known for his short stories. I personally like In a Grove. That book, it's a collection of his works.

Sarada: *reads the details from the cover* In a Grove is murder mystery?

Sasuke: Yeah. You'll like it.

Sarada: Thanks Papa! Its size is good too! It will fit in my bag.

Sasuke: Yeah. *smiles*

---

Sakura: Do you want to sleep early tonight, Anata?

Sasuke: /thinks/ She never sleeps early when she says that. It's either she wants a massage or she wants to make love tonight. Sure.

Sakura: Okay.. *gets up and leaves*

Sasuke: /thinks/ I have to follow of course. *gets up and follows*

Sakura: *seated on the bed; fixes something on the side table*

Sasuke: /thinks/ Should I offer to massage her? Should I get the oils? *sits beside her*

Sakura: *faces him and kisses his lips then his cheek then his ear*

Sasuke: /thinks/ Okay, now I'm sure what she wants. I'll undress her. *starts taking her dress off*

Sakura: A-Anata.. *goes on top of him and helps him undress his shirt*

Sasuke: *tries to think but can't* Sakura.. *lets his body move on its own*

[kkaewrites]

ok, then kiss me — osamu miya x reader !

warnings. ooc atsumu, description heavy.

tropes. damsel in distress, meet-cute.

you have never thought of yourself as perfect. which makes sense as to why you’d also never see anyone as flawless. for how can there be one, when all human beings are distinctly designed to be flawed? so, for years, this is what you believed in: everyone have their own defects. no one is god. no one is superior. no one can possibly make you feel otherwise.

until you came across him.

morning jogs were nothing out of the ordinary for you. there’s simply something in the cool air that you enjoy every sunrise, along with the pinkish hued skies. for no other reason would you have thought that today would be a different experience.

you’ve passed the usual tree a few blocks from your place. you’ve gone by the park, where the swing seats lie unaccompanied. the households you’ve memorized elapsed in nothing but colorful blurs, and the streets were emptied, save for the stray animals and a few old women. it was too early for anyone to be out. except maybe you.

except maybe the guy towering over you.

he was not on your routine. no, he’s not supposed to be on your routine. but somehow, as he faces you with a plastic bag full of what you could only guess were onigiris, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything negative.

you’ve heard of him. of his honeyed brown eyes and faux blond hair, yes, but more specifically, what he is. he’s a 6 feet tall, volleyball player that every woman is hyped about in school. nevermind the fact that he seems to have an attitude, because he’s damn good at what he does. even you, a not-so-sports-fan, acknowledges his hardwork. you’ve always thought everyone was exaggerating about him, but my god, they were definitely right.

his looks could rival a greek god. and that’s even without proper lighting. what a man he is, miya atsumu.

before you could fall (both literally and figuratively), you sent him a little nod and returned to your jog. you had no idea if he greeted you back, but you didn’t want to stay long enough to find out. there was absolutely no way you’d remain in a danger zone. so, a little shaken and dazed, you continued your morning routine like nothing happened.

although the fact that nothing did happen remains, you certainly think otherwise. for the first time, you thought that maybe there were perfect beings after all.

months pass. just when you thought that miya atsumu was something sort of a hiccup that day, it seems that he definitely didn’t think so. because every morning, as you jog using your favorite route, you’d come across him with a bag of onigiris. unlike the first day you met him, he’s covered in sweat. it didn’t take a genius to figure that he’s jogging. in the same time and same route as you.

talk about coincidence.

but again, like perfections, you’re no fan of fate. it doesn’t matter whether you’d see him every morning, especially since conversations were absent between the two of you. he had never tried talking to you, and you just find it awkward to have eye contacts with him, much more say anythting else. on rare moments that you do meet his brown eyes, though, you’d look away and run faster to avoid him.

you had no idea why you’re so flabbergasted every time you two run across each other, especially since it has happened for too many times already. and you’d like to think that you’re more of an extrovert than an introvert, so why can’t you speak in the presence of this man?

“excuse me.” shit.

he’s definitely pertaining to you. there’s no one in the street but you, and the only thing you could think of at that moment is ’i wish there had been more people‘ because the least you wanted to do then is to talk. especially to him.

nevertheless, you halted. panting and exhausted from your cardio, but heart beating erratically because of him. you were nervous and excited at the same time, so much so that you felt like you’re ready to burst at any given moment.

you turn to face him once you’ve caught your breath and composed yourself. “yes?”

“are you y/n?”

“yes, is something the matter?”

he holds a familiar towel, one that has your name stitched in the far corner, and steps evenly as he walks towards you. “ya dropped this, ‘s all.”

you accepted it quietly. not because you wanted to be rude, but because you had no idea what to even say to him. thanking him would be the normal response, but this was the only interaction you’ve shared with him in the span of months. were you really going to let it all go to waste?

he nods one last time and turns to leave, so in a panic, you blurted out the first thing you could think of.

“atsumu-san,” he stops. that was a stupid move. how could you call him by his first name just like that? one, he never formally introduced himself. two, he never gave you permission to. you internally cursed at yourself for just casually calling out to him like that, what then if he comes to the conclusion that you’re a stalker?

he raises his brow as he waits for you to finish. from the looks of it, he’s not upset. but you’re not entirely sure, maybe that’s his way of looking upset. either way, you get it over with. you didn’t want to prolong things further.

“thanks a lot.”

he nods, probably as his sign to leave. “see ya around, then.”

once he disappears from the corner you originally came from, you were able to let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. talk about intimidating. how could someone play against him and not melt into a puddle? you simply stood there and talked to him, yet your knees were wobbling.

is that what it feels like to be in the presence of a “perfect” person?

everyday, like clockwork, you’d run into miya atsumu while jogging. unlike the first few months of shrugging each other off, the both of you were finally able to at least greet one another. sometimes, it’s a simple nod or grin, and on other days, it’s a “good morning”.

you have grown accustomed to the greetings that your knees were no longer wobbly in his presence, but your image of him never faltered. if possible, it intensified. this went on for so long that there could only be one conclusion about your feelings.

you have a crush. on miya atsumu, of all people.

you huffed out a breath as you continued to jog. this was getting tiresome. you’re simply a different person when you’re face to face with the blond. it has got to stop. you don’t want to wait until it worsens and affects everything else around you. what if, with your dumb luck, you cross paths with him at school? will it also render you speechless?

could that happen?

this caused you to stop in your tracks, eyes glued on the very street you’d both cross paths. for some reason, you decided to switch up your route a bit. instead of the familiar turns you’ve been taking for the past months, you opted to take a left this time, which leads to your subdivision’s park.

you weren’t in the mood to see atsumu today. in fact, you’re not in the mood to affiliate yourself with him anymore. what you feel towards him is getting ridiculous. how could one have this much adoration for someone else? it’s suffocating and heavy in the chest.

impulsively kicking a nearby pebble, you stride towards one of the park benches. you’ve got no answer to your question, not even as you sit down to catch your breath. not even as light stretches in the sky. certainly not even as you realize that you’ve lost all chances of bumping into atsumu today.

you glumly waited for the sun to completely rise. this wasn’t the way to go. simply avoiding him won’t do anything because if this is what it feels like on the first day, what of the others to come?

had you foreseen that you’d get attached to someone like him, you would have ignored his existence completely. you would have taken a different route. damn it.

you’re bound to do something about this tomorrow.

the winds were out of control. it was unlike the calm mornings you’re used to greeting, but it was nothing an oversized hoodie could handle. this wasn’t enough to perturb you in any way, especially since the weather reports earlier claimed that it wouldn’t rain. and even if you were unnerved, you were sure that it had nothing to do with today’s gloomy mood.

yesterday’s events served as nothing but a reminder that miya atsumu has a strict influence in your behavior. you’re lucky enough that his classroom is a whole building away from yours, and your extracurriculars hinder you from bumping into him, so you’re fine when you’re at school.

but on early mornings? you can’t function. you see him everyday; on weekdays, as early as 5 in the morning, and on weekends, it’s 6. you have no way out. you tried changing your route to avoid him, but it was no use. there’s always an intersecting point between his house and yours.

so, if you want your old life back (which in this case, you terrible do) this whole crushing on him thing had to be settled. you’ve got to talk to him.

that was the goal imprinted in your head as you locked your front door and embraced the cold, misty morning.

the streets were as quiet as ever. only the sound of the wind against trees accompanied your lone jog because of the absence of everyone else, and the outer soles of your shoes pounding against the asphalt was enough to be heard from two blocks away. you guessed that it might be because of the lower temperature. people must have slept in.

you would have done the same if not for your main objective for today, but as the clock hits 30 past the hour of 5, you realize that maybe it was all for nothing. there’s no sign of miya atsumu. not even a strand of his hair or shadow could be seen.

and just as you thought that things wouldn’t get any worse, tiny droplets of rain fell from the sky. it slowly came as a gentle shower, so you weren’t bothered at all. however, when it started to get heavier and stronger, you quickened your pace and tugged your hood on. there’s no place you could take shelter from, seeing that the subdivision was full of suburban houses.

your house was 7 blocks away. you opted to run home and just take a quick shower after, but before you could even make such a decision, the rain poured. it was relentless and heavy, especially when it’s paired with the strong whirling winds. you’re not sure if you misheard the morning report— but this was not how you expected your day to occur.

so, you ran. not to your house, no. that was too far. you ran to the onigiri place that atsumu seemed to get his usual bag from. it was two blocks away.

the moment you finally found the perfect place to shield yourself from the rain, your hoodie was already wet. even your bra was wet. on top of that, it was freezing cold. just your luck, the onigiri shop was closed, but the store’s canopy roof served its purpose. you were going to stay here until the rain stops, considering that you don’t have any choices at all.

there’s no one outside but you. it’s a little overwhelming, more so because of the sudden rain downfall. there’s no one to talk to or at least acknowledge. the house adjacent to where you were standing had its bedroom lights on, but god forbid you bothering anyone who’s comfortable in their own homes. to think of it, this was mostly your fault.

you can’t believe that amidst all this trouble, miya atsumu never came.

a sigh withdraws from your system. the only source of heat you have was mostly gone. your clammy hands were pale and wrinkled, so it’s either the rain dies down or you. it was only a matter of time until you find out.

“ghost...?” you hear someone’s voice.

when you turn to look at them, you’re shocked to see who it was. it seems like your prayers have been answered, because who stands before you is none other than miya atsumu. he’s wearing a gray jacket and a black cap, while holding an umbrella. his other hand was tucked inside his jogging pants.

you’re not sure if he notices, but your face lights up at the sight of him. when he realizes that you’re not a ghost (as he speculated earlier), his attention turns towards the closed shop. he must’ve came just to buy his favorite food. or at least you think it’s his favorite.

“maybe they’ll open up later.“ you pipe up.

“will they?”

you shrug. he stands there in the middle of the rain, contemplating what he should do. you expected him to turn his back and walk away, but he does the opposite. he steps under the canopy and stands next to you.

it was cold. freezing. your clothes were wet and your hands were shivering. atsumu seems like he didn’t notice just how cold you are earlier, but the moment he does, he took off his jacket without a word. you don’t even try to stop him, not when the warmth that enveloped you was heavenly.

that left him in his purple shirt. he was wordless the whole time, and the only interaction between the two of you was when you talked about the shop and when he gave you his jacket. aside from that, silence ensued for about 30 more minutes.

him opening his umbrella disrupted your train of thoughts. he steps back into the street and turns to face you, “i don’t think they’ll open today.”

you nod, but he only stared at you blankly. realizing that he’s about to leave, you quickly took off his jacket but he stops you.

“what are you doing?”

“giving back your jacket.”

“let’s go, i’ll walk you.” he nudges to the street. the rain did not show any signs of stopping soon. “you don’t have an umbrella, right?”

and so, true to his words, he walks you home. the umbrella was too small for the both of you, especially with his huge build, but his warmth was nice. at least you weren’t freezing to death.

“this is me.” you tell him once you’ve reached your front gate. “thank you. for everything.” was your breathless addition.

he only nods as his response, then turned to walk away. not until you stop him.

“uh, atsumu-san!” you called, a little louder than how you imagined to say it but you didn’t want the rain to drown out your voice. he whirls to face you, a confused look plastered on his face as if asking me?

who else would it be? there’s no other atsumu around. you could have remarked sarcastically, but your body didn’t allow you to.

still, as he faces you, it was now or never. there was no use in doubletaking your thoughts because you’ve got nothing to lose. the best case scenario is to have him reject you so that you can peacefully move forward, and if that’s the ideal plan, what could go wrong?

“i like you.“ you whisper.

“louder, please.”

when your doubts were left unanswered, you finally let your impulsiveness string you along.

“i like you.” you didn’t yell because you thought it was embarrasing, but your words certainly didn’t fall upon deaf ears. in fact, it seemed as if the rain went quiet just so atsumu could hear what you had to say.

there was no change in his expression, and even if there was, it’s not as if you can decipher them easily.

“okay.” he nods. what does he mean by that?

before you could ask, a miniscule smirk appears on his lips. “then kiss me.”

“what?”

“did i hear you wrong? you said you like me.”

a frown etched itself onto your features. was he kidding? did he think you were kidding?

you have never kissed anyone, and you certainly did not think that you’d ever be placed in a situation like this. that you’d be kissing atsumu miya — that he would nonchalantly demand you to kiss him. he’s definitely out of his mind.

“you’re joking, right?” you question, watching him slowly walk back to you you.

“sorry, ’m not.”

his dark eyes stared into your vibrant e/c eyes, and you could swear there’s something different in it. he tucks a stray hair of yours behind your ear and leans in. was he going to...?

“w-what—”

but he doesn’t. instead, he leans in to whisper: “you confessed to the wrong twin, miss.”

notes. so sorry for the inactivity 😿 this was written last year & i just thought i’d post it today! this might have a part 2 but i’m not exactly sure how that would go so let me know ur thoughts! <3 for #bllk i’m working on 2 nagi fics (1 enemies to lovers, 1 flower shop au kinda), 1 itoshi sae (enemies to lovers AGAIN) & the part 2 for chigiri’s fic! 🫶🏻 thanks for all the patience & support!

ִ ࣪𖤐 masterlist ! • ִ ࣪𖤐 next !

[sukifinn]

A/N: Eek my first tumblr post ever? Random Eddie thoughts I had in my notes :) Most of them I imagine pre-dating because I live for ✨tension✨ but they’ll work either way hehe. Mostly fluff, a couple nsfw scenarios. If you have anymore please suggest! I’d love to add new scenarios :) Also the paper ring idea is from another user! I can’t remember their tag but they wrote the most wonderful fanfic. I’d love to credit them if anyone knows!

• Helping eddie clean his new tattoo on the back of his shoulder because he can’t reach it himself

• Eddie giving you random things that make him think of you (cool rocks, paperclips in your favorite color, a cool sticker he found on the ground at the hideout)

• One day while Eddie is in your room he discovers a box in your closet. He opens it to find all of the little gifts he’s given you over the years

• “You kept them?” “Of course I did.”

•All he can do his bury his face in your shoulder and hold you tighter than ever while he tries to blink away the tears forming in his big brown eyes

• Eddie didn’t like you at first. You were popular and he’d written you off from the start. Unbeknownst to him, you were friendly with the hellfire freshman and they dragged you along to a campaign one night as a stand in. Eddie thought it was a joke at first, but you knew your way around a dnd match and that’s when Eddie knew he was in trouble

• Eddie always had a crush on you, but it was your giant smile and even bigger heart that had him head over heels in a matter of days

• One day Eddie agrees to let you paint his nails. You guide his hand up your thigh for a better angle. You wince a bit at the chill of his rings against your skin. He giggles innocently, only to let his thoughts wonder to how you’d react if you let him touch you with them in other places. Less innocently

• Eddie has a box full of guitar picks he’s collected over the years. You were rummaging through and picked out one you really liked. You set it on his dresser forgetting to put it back, but Eddie never put it back either. It sat there for weeks. Every time it would catch his eye he couldn’t help but blush and grin

• You also have a favorite ring of his

•One day Eddie gives you a cheap chain necklace. Attached to it your favorite ring and the guitar pick you’d set out months ago

• Eddie’s nervously rubbing the back of his head looking down at the ground. “I know it’s not much, but…”

• “Oh Eddie. It’s everything.”

• Every time the rest of the gang cancels leaving the two of you alone, Eddie will frantically clean up around the trailer. He’ll light some candles and set out snacks and blankets. He’ll like to pretend it was a casual act, even though he never does it for the rest of the gang ;)

• He’ll fantasize about you like crazy. Not necessarily sexual, but about the ways he’d love you. He thinks about cooking dinner with you and dancing around the kitchen. He thinks about surprising you with the perfect picnic as the sun sets in the sky. He thinks about the way he’d hold you in bed at night and never ever let you go

• He definitely thinks about you sexually though

• Absolutely worships the ground you walk on. You are literally an angel to him

•SIIIIIIIMP

• Makes fun of your music taste, but secretly learns all of your favorite songs on guitar

• Cooly inviting you to all of his gigs, but his heart literally feels like it’s exploding every time he sees you in the crowd

• Eddie getting the wonderful idea to pierce his ear with a sewing needle one night. He knows he’s fucked up and calls you for help. You sit on the couch and lay his head across your lap to better examine the wound. Of course, he’s being a smart ass the entire time and you flick his ear in retaliation. He turns around and flicks the inside of your leg

• “Ow, Eddie!”

• “Aww, sorry princess.”

• Without thinking, he innocently kisses your inner thigh like you’d do to a child with a hurt thumb. The tiniest moan escapes your lips and Eddie is launched over the edge. He excuses himself to the bathroom to “examine his wounds”

• Eddie secretly wearing a hair tie of yours around his wrist that you forgot at his trailer one time

• Eddie always has your favorite snacks and drinks at his trailer, but he’d never let you find out that he gets them just for you

• Eddie has a secret cassette tape with all of your favorite songs. He’s titled it with your name and a sloppy sharpied heart (which he tried his very best to draw)

• Hates his hair being touched, but craves the feeling of having your fingers wrapped up in his curls

• Eddie absentmindedly talking about not having enough money to buy a new album from his favorite band. He acted like it was no big deal but deep down he was bummed. He knew it’d be sold out for weeks. You got up at 6:30 to be at the music store as soon as they opened to nab Eddie’s album. You surprised him at his trailer, and that’s when he knew he was done for

• After finally confessing his love for you, he’d put so much thought and time into planning every single date making sure every last detail was absolutely perfect

• The first time he got you in bed, he was literally in shock. He burned the image of every freckle and curve into his mind, never wanting to forget. Your beauty to him was otherworldly. He’d listen to the sound of your moans over his favorite song any day

• He’d always let you doodle on him when you got bored. He secretly turned a couple of your drawings into stick and pokes. He’d put all of his focus into it wanting it to be absolutely perfect. He’d be in a trance, his tongue hanging slightly out of his mouth as he traced every line. When he was done, he’d lean back with the goofiest smile plastered across his face as he admired the masterpiece you had created together

• Actually cried the first time you said you loved him

• Gets emotional over the little things you do for him. He never thought he’d have or deserve a love like yours

• JEALOUSSSS

• Always grabbing your thigh in public

• Likes to jokingly have casual conversations with your boobs, referring to them as “his girls”

• Eddie like to take Polaroid pictures of the gang when everyone gets together, but he has a couple of secret ones he’s taken just of you (in a non Jonathan way)

• “Princess” “Sweet heart” “My girl”

• He loves assurance. Craves it actually

• That being said. Praise kink

• Eddie likes to make you ride with him to the gas station when he needs cigarettes. He buys you your favorite drink every time

• Eddie never really wanted to get married or have kids. Everything changed when he met you

• He always provides the best after care. He’ll hold you tight and ask you a million times if you’re okay. He’ll lift your chin with his fingers so your eyes meet his and just gush about how he’s so in love with you

• He’s super forgetful, but remembers every little detail about you

• Obsessed with pleasing you. Literally lives for it. Will eat you like his last meal

• He acts like a jerk, but has the biggest soft spot for. You literally opened his heart

• Soooo clingy

• If you get him something he literally treasures it like a priceless artifact

• Eddie liked to bring home random hookups after his gigs. He didn’t even realize he’d stopped after meeting you. He was so devoted to you and he didn’t even know it yet

• Always at your every beck and call, but especially on your period. He’s always making sure you’re comfortable and stocked up on everything you need

• He’s always had so much love to give but no one to give it to so he absolutely showers you with it

• Eddie has anxiety, so he can tell when you’re anxious. He’ll always try his best to calm you down. It makes him so happy when it works and he knows he can be your safe place

• When you get bored in class you make Eddie little origami animals. He has them all sitting on his dresser

• You make him origami rings too. Every time he breaks one he asks you for another because “he likes the style”

• He definitely keeps all of the broken rings in a secret box