#I’m also trying to get better at drawing feet :

[sketchncanto]

Late night dumpy dump! 💫

Can you tell I’m having fun in procreate lol i was supposed to be in bed hours ago

[momotonescreaming]

STWG Daily Prompt: Date Night

“Does Thursday work?” Jeff asks, voice tinny and sort of muffled. Eddie can hear the sound of flipping pages, the creak of the plastic from the phone's speaker. 

“Shit, sorry dude.” Eddie says, looking at the loose pages of lined paper he's scribbled his schedule on. It works for him, and it's better than nothing. “That's date night.” 

A pause. For a moment, all Eddie can hear is the sound of Jeff breathing through the speaker. 

“Date night, huh?” Jeff eventually asks, and Eddie can hear the smarmy grin he's wearing. It's leaking into his voice, the absolute delight in it all. Just the right side of teasing, the bastard. He'd hate it, would snap and snarl and throw it all back if he wasn't also fucking delighted. 

He could say that now. He had a boyfriend, who holds his hands and kisses him and schedules date nights. He gets this. He gets to talk about it with his best friend. Can mention he has a date and doesn't have to hide the fact that it's with his boyfriend. He gets to share in the gentle ribbing for once. It's not just him on the outside looking in — as they tease Gareth for getting a date with a girl from his English class, or Jeff hitting his anniversary with his girlfriend. 

Eddie's been domesticated and he doesn't mind in the slightest. 

“Yes, it's date night,” Eddie retorts, trying to send as much faux malice down the phone as he can. He's smiling though, as he sits at the kitchen table, phone cord absently tangled through his fingers. “And Steve's been working hard planning it, so I will not be rescheduling.” 

“I didn't ask you to,” Jeff laughs, tone light. 

“Well good.” Eddie teases, wishing they were having this conversation in person so he could stick his tongue out. Really ham it up. 

Another pause, and Eddie uses the silence to flip through his papers, looking through all the events and dates and times he's scribbled out. Fuck, he really needs a calendar. 

“So?” Jeff prompts, drawing the word out. “Tell me about date night.” 

“You sound like your mother,” Eddie laughs, holding the phone in between his ear and his shoulder, pinning it there so he can free up his hands. So he can sort through his papers and fidget with the phone cord at the same time “Begging for gossip.” 

“You love my mother,” Jeff retorts — snappish — but it's obvious he's smiling. Laughing through it. “And you say that like you aren't gagging to talk about it. Come on.” 

“Okay fine,” Eddie relents. Sighing as he sinks into his chair, slouching, his socked feet skating across the floor. “You caught me.” 

“Not hard,” Jeff laughs. 

“Steve’s been talking a lot about wooing me lately,” Eddie starts, ignoring Jeff’s teasing. He finds himself smiling as he talks, creeping across his face uncontrollably. Fuck, the things Steve does to him. “As if he hasn’t wooed me already. So he’s planned this like, romantic dinner at home. Instead of going out to Enzo’s he wants to like, bring Enzo’s to us? Said he was going to treat me right. Have the fancy dinner I deserve, where we can play footsie under the table and hold hands without, y’know, worrying.”

By the end of his sentence Eddie’s feeling like he’s melting into his chair, insides melting into something soft and gooey. Pulling his hair across his face to hide his blush. Jeff can’t even see him, but he can’t help it. He wants to giggle and kick his feet. Jump and scream and flail around. It’s all building up inside him, this honey sweet affection. He doesn’t quite know what to do with it all. 

“He going to light candles? Have soft music playing in the background?” Jeff asks, teasing melting away into something softer. 

“Literally yes,” Eddie exclaims, dropping his hair and trying not to wiggle too much in his seat. “He’s so sweet, I’m going to throw up.”

“He’s good for you, man.” Jeff says simply, and it means a lot. That other people can see it — can know — just how happy Steve makes him. 

[Part Two]

[suengmi]

- the ways stray kids show their love and affection

genre: fluff/romance, nonidol!au, gn!reader warnings: mentions of making out, nakedness? idk lol

anyways this is just major soft hours, one of my moots said i should do this i can't remember who it was pls lmk if it was you asljdls also unedited

♡ masterlist / pls reblog if you liked! it helps a lot ♡

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ bang chan

sweet kisses all over your face to wake you up, pressing his nose into the crook of your neck and gently nibbling you. “i’m bored wake up babe.” grunts when you ignore him. ends up pulling the sheets back so your naked body is exposed to the cold. “that’s what you get.” gets salty but then feels bad, covering you up again, then he really wakes you up. back hugs when you’re cooking for him. whining whenever you don’t pay attention to him, tugging at the edge of your shirt. sulks when you say you’re busy. doesn’t give a fuck about how clingy he is, but he knows you love it. holds your hand a little too hard when you’re walking together. kiss attacks always!!

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ lee know

stops you from crossing the street until he’s checked it. “stupid, look next time.” beats you twice in a board game but sees that you're sad that you’re not that good at it, but fails the third time just to see you smile and gloat about beating him. he loves seeing you happy, even if he has to purposely fail. leaves you notes everywhere, maybe just ‘i love yous’ mixed in with ‘i know you’ll forget this so don’t.’ text messages asking if you’ve eaten, and then getting mad and sending food to your door if you haven’t. swiftly kisses to the forehead aggressively saying you ‘deserve it’ but sounds like a threat. ‘you know i love you yeah?’ more aggressive kisses. ‘i won’t stop until you say you love me!!’

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ changbin

little wrestling matches on the couch, telling you that you’re silly for even trying. pulls you by the back of your hair if you’re not paying attention to him. “i left you the last piece of food.” always, always saves you the last piece no matter what it is. picks you up and throws you around, pretending he’s going to eat you bc apparently he’s a monster. but says you taste good so he doesn’t mind eating you. more wrestles. whenever you’re sad, he always cheers you up and never fails to make you laugh. does his trot impression of some old korean songs, full performance with your glitter jacket on that doesn’t fit him. ‘you still love me now? you better.’ knows you love being engulfed by him, so 90% of the time he is the big spoon. when he's feeling really romantic, he'll do a little picnic at the beach. always making sure it was at sunset because he knew it was your favourite time of the day.

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ jisung

midnight trips to get take out, sitting in the car until 2am with both of your feet on the dashboard. ‘remember that time!’ always reminiscing about how you first met, nearly choking on your fries when you recall. kisses in the car, kisses in the house, kisses in the shower, kisses in the dark. ‘babe but i want it.’ chucks a tanty when you don’t buy him things. pouts and folds his arms. ‘if you loved me you would!’ holds the cuff of your jumper, mostly walking behind you whenever you go somewhere because he feels safe. morning calls, but especially night calls. he doesn’t care how you look at the end of the day, he just wants to see you and tell you he loves you. hiding himself in your jumper and saying there is enough room for two (when there isn't.)

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ hyunjin

taking you to art galleries, standing behind you with his head resting on yours. ends up putting his hands into your pockets from behind, cutely leading you around from the back. with hyunjin it’s not always words, sometimes it’s just his actions. he pushes your hair out of your face or tucks it behind your hair. mostly, he does your hair for you. always making sure your hair was out of your face because it annoyed you. brings you tea and sits with you if you’re studying or drawing or even watching tv, rubs your thigh gently to let you know that he doesn’t want to distract you, just shows you he wants to be with you. rubs your belly if you feel bloated and talks to it. 'you better stop being bloated or... i'll do something. idk what.' art dates!! always drawing together, even if you're shit he encourages you to keep going

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ seungmin

gently slips his fingers into yours without saying anything but smiling to himself when he sees you blush, he kind of loves that he makes you nervous. always taking the chance to make your cheeks tint pink. showers with seungmin, always washing your body and shampooing your hair for you, wet kisses in between. sometimes he’d gently press his nose on your naked skin, enjoying your scent but never admitting it. ‘it’s comforting’ he’d say in defence, ignoring you for the rest of the night. guiding you with his hand on your lower back, making sure you were safe no matter where you were. kisses to the forehead, the back of the hand, the back of your knees. seungmin doesn’t say it much, but he does love you. he shows it through everything else, knowing those words have such a weight to them.

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ felix

‘are you gonna cook!?’ jumping up and down when you say yes, annoying you the whole time you’re cooking or baking. ‘is it done? i can’t wait to eat it!!’ eats half of the food before it’s even cooked because he says it’s ‘too good.’ little play fights that would begin from felix nibbling at your fingers and then at your thighs. ‘little gremlin’ you’d end up joking, rolling around on the floor, bodies all over each other, which would end in a heated make out session and clothes far gone. he’d send you random texts, of random things. ‘hey i saw this flower, it's cute, yeah?’ ‘this potato looks like you. it’s too cute to eat T-T’ ‘you think i could eat 11 hot dogs in two minutes? hmm maybe.’ 

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ jeongin

blowing raspberries on your tummy and holding you down. sometimes uses your foot as a telephone. ‘yes hello stinky foot line how can i stink you today?’ proceeds to try and hold your foot with his. 'shut up i can do it!!' probably be super sarcastic, mocking you when you tried to be cute with whatever you were saying. karaoke together, always singing out of pitch but though he’s laughing, encourages you to be more confident because he loves seeing you enjoy yourself. watches you sometimes, just admiring you but instantly whips his head around to pretend he wasn’t, head banging into something hanging from the wall. ‘mind your business’ he’d joke, walking away suspiciously.

♡ taglist: @blankdyean @l3visbby @daddyjoonchua @ipegchangbin @abcdefgiwsmcty ♡

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Day 2 of TUI-Mas

Warnings: pregnancy, difficulty conceiving, mention of pregnancy symptoms, lots of Eddie being a mush

WC: 1.5k

February 1999

You didn’t get pregnant that first month. Your period arrived unceremoniously, leaving in its wake blood-stained underpants and disappointment.

It didn’t happen in December or January, either, despite meticulous cycle tracking and Eddie barely keeping his hands off of you. Each negative test feels like a failure; you’ve stopped taking them when Eddie’s around because you can sense his disappointment, though he puts on a brave face to comfort you.

But now, you’re late. Only by two days–if you weren’t paying careful attention to the dates, you might not have noticed. You have to bite back a smile as you tear open the box, fingers trembling as you poorly contain your excitement. It might be nothing, just a period ironically delayed by stress of trying to conceive.

Or you might be pregnant.

You inhale, filling your lungs with air and holding it there for a while until you let it out in one strong breath. All you’re doing is peeing on a stick, but your body nervously buzzes with each passing second. You’ve likely taken a dozen of these by now, and there’s nothing that should make you think you’ll get a different result today.

With utmost care, you place the used test on the back of the sink and wash your hands. You keep pressing on the soap handle to the point where a small pool forms in your palm, but you can’t draw your gaze from the tiny result window. The control line begins forming quickly, as it always does. 

How long ago did Eddie leave to grab breakfast—maybe ten minutes? Sundays at Zeke’s Bagels are usually swamped, so you have plenty of time to wipe away your tears if that sacred second line never appears. 

“Mommy?”

A drowsy voice interrupts your inner monologue. Harris stands at the bathroom doorway, wiping the sleep from his big brown eyes and yawning. 

“What’s up, Har?” You hope your anxiety doesn’t bleed through, though you doubt he’s awake enough to recognize it. 

He squints as he adjusts to the light. “Where’s Daddy? Also, I’m hungry.”

A sigh of relief escapes you when you realize he’s too focused on breakfast to pay attention to anything else. “Daddy left to get us some bagels,” you explain, allowing your heart to slow to a normal rate. “Why don’t you go make your bed, and we can watch some cartoons while we wait for him, okay?”

Harris nods, barely picking up his sock-clad feet as he trudges back towards his bedroom. You giggle at the way he tries to fight his sleepiness, shaking your head in amusement. 

That’s when you see it, faint but still definitely present: the tell-tale second pink line.

“Oh my God.” Your hand flies to your mouth in complete shock, tears forming a film over your eyes so the results become blurred. You blink them away to get a better look, partially convinced that you’re hallucinating or projecting your hopes, and that reality will set in and show a negative result.

But when your vision clears, both lines are still visible.

You’re pregnant.

Now you just have to tell your husband; the question is, how?

You’re still mulling over the possibilities when the key clicks in the door ten minutes later. Eddie carries in a brown paper bag of bagels, whistling a tune that startles you from your thoughts. 

“Food’s here!” Eddie calls out; your stomach flip-flops at the sound of his voice. The temptation to let giddiness take over and wave the test in his face is strong, but you hold yourself back. First and foremost, you don’t want Harris knowing until you’re safely in the second trimester, but another part of you is still in denial that you truly are pregnant. That there’s a tiny little life growing within your womb, half you and half Eddie.

I’ll test again in a few days, you tell yourself, and if it’s still positive, then I’ll tell him.

You shove the test in the top drawer among your make-up and hair care products where it will be safe from your husband’s wandering eyes. Before you shut off the light, you get a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. You look the same as you always do, but there’s no denying that you feel different.

Pregnant. You’re pregnant with Eddie’s baby. In approximately nine months, the Munsons will be a family of four.

“Mommy! Daddy’s home!”

“Coming!” You wipe away any remaining tears and make your way to the kitchen, trying to quell the excitement of knowing that you’re technically eating for two.

Breakfast drags a bit, both because of the weighty secret you’re guarding and the fact that cream cheese apparently now makes your nose wrinkle in disgust, but Harris’s animated storytelling makes the time pass a bit faster. Apparently, being seven years old is more dramatic than you’d remembered.

One particular story involving Harris, Joshua Harrington, and a celery-stick sword fight remains etched into your brain even as you brush bagel crumbs off of the table and into your cupped palm. Harris has plunked down in front of the television, gaze glued to a show about a conjoined cat and dog with screeches so grating that you find yourself wincing with each piece of dialogue. The distraction is enough to keep you from tuning into Eddie rummaging through the bathroom drawers, searching for the nail clippers.

“Um, babe?” His voice cracks on the second word, and you can sense both confusion and concern in his tone. “C-Can you come here? Now?”

Oh, shit. 

You dash into the bathroom, shrinking into yourself when you find him, one hand bracing his body weight on the sink and the other clutching a very positive pregnancy test. 

“Are…is this…” He turns to you, wide-eyed, lower lip quivering. “When…?”

“Right before breakfast,” you jump in, your pinky finger nudging his along the sink’s edge. “I wanted to do something special to surprise you after I took another one later this week, y’know, just to be sure.”

Eddie exhales a breath that’s half-laugh and half-cry, lowering the test to the ceramic ledge so he can place both hands on your cheeks. “You’re pregnant?” he asks, words thick with disbelief. He chuckles when you nod, head moving up and down between his calloused palms. “Holy shit; you’re having my baby.”

His mouth finds yours in an instant, fingers leaving your face and traveling to your waist. Eddie pulls you in close and punctuates the long kiss with several little pecks. 

“My gorgeous girl is having my baby,” Eddie murmurs, gently sinking to his knees so he’s eye-level with your stomach. It’s still far too early to be showing, but he still bunches up your shirt just above your belly button. You giggle when he presses his lips against your skin, an involuntary ticklish reaction. “I just…I’m so happy. I got kinda worried when it wasn’t happening, that something was wrong.” He looks up at you with an expression of relief and awe. “We’re having a baby, Sweetheart.” His thumb trails along your exposed flesh, the place where your child will develop over the next nine months.

You laugh, pulling him up so you can kiss him again. He tastes like the orange juice he’d drank with breakfast, sweet and tangy. “We should wait to tell people until a doctor confirms it,” you murmur as he rests his forehead on yours. “Let it just be our little secret for now, okay?”

Eddie nods, lips occupied with kisses that render him unable to speak for a minute. “I’m glad I found out when I did, to be honest,” he admits with a small smile. “I missed so much of this with Harris, and I wanna be part of everything with this little munchkin.” 

“Everything?” you ask suspiciously. “The morning sickness, the mood swings, the swollen feet? I’m pretty sure my mom got hemorrhoids when she was pregnant with me–”

“Everything,” Eddie affirms, lacing his fingers with yours. “The good, the bad, and the…hemorrhoid-y.”

You can’t hold back your amusement, throwing your head back with laughter. “I’m holding you to that.”

But you know you won’t need to, because this is Eddie, and the love he already has for this child radiates off of him.

He wraps you in a warm embrace, holding you around your shoulders so that his soft arm hair brushes the nape of your neck. He keeps you safe in his arms while you keep the baby safe in your womb.

In a little while, a commercial will interrupt Harris’s TV show. He’ll come running over to exclaim that he needs the toy being advertised, despite having a present-filled birthday just three weeks ago, and the Munson home will return to its definition of normalcy. For now, you and Eddie relish in this special moment, just the two of you and the tiny bean that is Baby Munson.

--

[sabertoothwalrus]

How did you get so good at drawing such expressive bodies/faces??? tell me your secrets!! (But srsly your skills are amazing)

AAAA THANK YOU!!

I think my initial inspiration was about 10-11 years ago watching Adventure Time and finding Rebecca Sugar’s boards. Sometimes I get a little frustrated because she gets so much more notoriety than the other very very amazing AT boarders, but….. her expressions man…. she was always able to convey so much with SO LITTLE. (SU’s expressions are on another level of course, but I think AT’s are just so impressive to me because they’re dot eyes)

But the thing is!! I’m also a fan of deadpan. Which AT also does very well. It’s tempting to want to do BIG, extreme expressions at every moment, especially in comedic comics, but you really don’t need to. I find that characters often feel more expressive if you reel it in more often. That way, when you DO have bigger expressions, they FEEL bigger!

for example, a panel where the contrast between big and subtle expressions sells the contrast:

I don’t really,,,, know exactly what I do that works, ?? I kind of just like, think of the emotion I wanna convey, make the expression, think about what my face feels feels like, and try to convey that. Using a mirror helps!! You’ll feel a little stupid but it’s funny.

some misc expression tips:

Definitely prioritize eyebrows, eyes, and mouths!

Noses aren’t as important BUT flared nostril can totally sell an expression, so it depends!

Remember that your upper jaw is stationary, and your lower jaw can move, and then your lips and cheeks can move all around that!

Just subtly changing the placement of eyelids and location/size of irises can completely change an expression

Don’t be afraid to make your characters look weird or stupid.

Don’t reinvent the wheel! Take reference from different media you like that stylize expressions in different ways, and find what works for you. I take a lot of inspiration from AtLA

Again, NUANCE! Like, when most people are sad, they do their very best to try NOT to cry. People hold things in. Sometimes what characters don’t say can speak louder than what they do.

some expressions I’ve done that have varying levels of nuance:

Also framing!! You can use the composition to help project how the character feels:

As for body language!

Having a better sense of three-dimensional form and anatomy isn’t necessary, but it sure helps a lot

Hands!! I have adhd and my family is italian so I use my hands a lot when I talk. But even still, most people don’t just leave their hands hanging loosely by their sides. People cross their arms and fidget with their zippers and put their hands in pockets.

Head, neck, and shoulders. If you can master the foreshortening of these overlapping shapes at most angles, you will be very powerful

Hips & feet!!!!! People RARELY stand straight with both feet flat on the ground with even balance. Most people will shift their weight to one hip, leaving one leg looser and at an angle. It also helps to practice perspective, because people also rarely stand with their heels lined up side by side. One leg may get kicked foreward or loosely bent backwards. I sometimes cross my legs when I stand.

Ultimately, if you want more lifelike expressions and poses, study from life!! Don’t worry about your drawing being “good” or “bad”, instead think about what can make it successful. Ask yourself, “is this conveying the expression I want to convey?” and if it’s not, figure out what you need to change to get it there.

[maximumkillshot]

I Can't Lose You-Chapter 13

Warnings: Non really! Just some A quality fluff, there is some references to hard times, other than that, nothing.

Pairing: Changbin x Reader???

Characters: All boys minus Chan

A/N: Okay this is super fluffy dare I say brush your teeth after. Enjoy!

I Can't Lose You Masterlist-CLICK HERE

Stray Kids Masterlist-CLICK HERE

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE. 

ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

It was the soft light of dawn that stirred Changbin from sleep. He felt a warm weight on his bicep, his hand aching from the bruises on it. He made sure not to flex it as he turned his head to see the owner of that warm weight. He smiled to himself, looking at you, your body angled towards him, your angel plush koala’ed with your head on his bicep. 

He fought the yawn trying to escape him as he looked at you. You always rested so beautifully. He could watch you for hours, if he was any good at art he would have a studio full of different mediums of the same subject, you. The walls would be covered with photos, paintings, and drawings of when you’re resting, awake, laughing… That was his favorite, it would look like someone turned on a light in a dark room. You always looked like that, too. 

He almost giggled to himself when he thought about how much of an opposite to you he was. He never slept gracefully. Mostly landing on the opposite side of the bed where he started from and limbs either starfished or belly down smothering himself in the pillow. He was wondering if there was anyone else that he knows that looks as pretty as you do sleeping. Jisung looks cute but not pretty. Hyunjin looks almost angry as he sleeps, Minho can sleep with his eyes open which is just unsettling at times, I.N. sleeps in a ball (fox fits him perfectly), Chan looks catatonic, Minnie looks peaceful, but also slightly angry, Lixie however. He slept pretty. Sometimes Bin would love it when Lix would choose him as a pillow, especially during touring. Lix was always so nervous, so much so that sometimes Bin would get a call from his sunshine twin for help. Felix couldn’t sleep without cuddling him. So most days Bin would Tell I.N. goodnight after a shower and head to Lix’s room. He remembered just after day 2 of a Los Angeles show Felix showed up to his room. One minute they were talking, the next Bin woke up to Lix flattened like a pancake between the wall and himself. He remembers trying to move away from Lix’ and hearing Felix groaning and saying, “Hyung… no come back,” with grabby hands. He remembered looking down at him and saying, “You need to breathe Yongbok-ah” as he chuckled. Felix looked up and smirked as he said, “I’m breathing, now come back…” as Felix locked onto him. There Changbin was stuck for the better half of an hour as Felix went back to sleep. 

Also like Felix, you would sleep like a rock next to Changbin, but when Changbin would wake up or even shift, your eyes would open, making sure he wasn’t leaving. If he was, he would need to either bargain or say where he was going. Changbin, now that he thinks about it, recognizes that you and Felix have a very unique relationship. It’s not just because you have a unique relationship with each one of the members either. You and Felix have been through a lot, him being the first you called a friend. There was a lot of culture shock when you moved from New York to Seoul. Felix stood up with you through all of the jetlag and, although you could speak Korean in a limited capacity before you moved, it was nowhere near what you needed to speak to survive. 

Felix rented an apartment with you until you could get on your feet, so you didn’t feel so alone in a foreign country. He also did exercises with you in Korean, so you could learn the language better. He helped you form shortcuts for memorizing the Hangul and even helped you with the more advanced speaking by watching K-dramas with you. He’d pause it every few seconds to teach you about what you just heard. It’s because of Felix that you speak fluently after five years. Bin remembered those moments, coming over the apartment to help teach you. He knew there was nothing else expected behind Felix’s kindness aside from, “I understand that it’s hard, let me take some pressure off, yeah?” He could practically hear the thick Aussie accent as he reminisced. 

Changbin looked at your hands, he could see the signs of anxiety healing on them. He knew all too well how your anxiety slams into you. You pick at your nails at times and your nails are short because of it, it’s something you’ve been trying to work on since you had teeth. However, now they seem to be healing. That made him feel good. They were a representation of your mood, your healing process. It was not often that he looked at you without a pang of guilt, however. Lately, it’s still touch and go. He always felt a slight worry at the fact that you were married to Chris and not himself, now it’s full blown panic, rightfully so. If he was married to you he would be able to be closer to you, make sure you’re happy; now that line was blocking him. He knew the line was there, he felt it in the earth between the both of you. That line that used to be so defined, now blurring. That guilt shifting focus, instead of guilt for looking at you fondly, now morphing into guilt about this entire situation. If he would’ve spoken up, you wouldn’t be like this. If he would’ve said what Minho, Felix, Han, and himself were thinking; you wouldn’t be here. 

There were so many times that he’s found you in the midst of a panic attack, on edge thinking Chris would come home, just to have the rug snatched from under you. Sometimes he’d see you choking back tears as you are doing dishes, seeing no sign of Chan’s favorite mug, meaning he never came home. Smelling his cologne in the morning was the worst. Bin would find you curled on Chan’s side of the bed, asking why he left without saying anything. Questioning your worth. There was no stability for you, no peace. He wanted to tell you to get a divorce so many times. It was something that everyone who spent time with you wanted to scream. Seeing you suffer was and still is torture. Bin never knew how to bring it up though. He knows that you said that you’d leave Chan… But would you?

The press, the company, the fans, all of them would tear you apart. It’d be a massacre, if anything. The company made a show of it. The first public K-Pop couple, going public willingly. “The king and queen of K-Pop”, Chan from the Stray Kids falls in love with one of the best photographers in the business… The headlines made Bin choke at first. It shouldn’t have been that title, this situation, that circumstance. Chan’s hand should’ve never been in yours. Chan’s knee should’ve never touched the Earth, his hand should’ve never reached in his pocket to fish out a tiny black box. More than anything, the press should’ve never known anything. The backlash wasn’t terrible, with Chan protecting you for once. But now? That made his heart rate pick up. 

He wanted to keep you here. Safe and content, sleeping on his arm in the dawn of the morning in the middle of a living room floor. Hair tousled, surrounded by plushies, cradling you as you rest. No, not here, he refused to think about it. He refused to believe that anything bad would happen to you, not in his arms, in the safe space he made for you the same moment he met you. The past three days have been from Hell, yet you and him found strength in each other. He goes back to the second episode, the way you clung onto him, your hand barely able to fit half of his forearm. You stood here for him. You breathed for him. All because he asked you to. You fell fully expecting no one to catch you, since Chan never did. Instead, just like the plushies, his boys, your boys, caught you. Bin lunged for you, grabbed your hand and didn’t let go. He refused to, not after what he saw. What you went through. Not with how much he loves you.

Love is a strong word, now that Bin thinks about it. It’s unconditional. When you truly love someone, you don’t care about the ‘what’s’in life. What if someone found out, what if something happens, what are the risks? None of them matter. What matters is that person. He can’t remember a day after he met you where his needs ever superseded your own. It was natural to him. Do you need help carrying something? He’ll carry it all! Do you need an opinion on this photo? He drops all of his responsibilities for you. Chan never loved you. That pang in Bin’s chest came back. He had to face it. Yes, Chan never loved you. Yes, Chan used you as a tool, a tactic. Yes, he broke you. If anything, Chan was shitty at acting like he cared, but everyone didn’t want to see it, yourself included. Not anymore. 

You have gone through too much to be treated like an afterthought. Bin will chase any monster away, he’ll fight anyone who tries to come near you with any other motive other than to help you. You shifted a little in your sleep and your hair fell from your now messy bun. He smiled seeing the scrunch of your nose as a strand of hair tickled you. He laid on his side to completely face you. He gently moved the offending strand out of the way, drinking in your presence. You sighed happily and your nostrils flared, chasing Bin’s hand slightly. Bin knew what you wanted, he cupped your face gently as you smirked, still in sleep. It’s these little things that melt Changbin. The fact that even when sleeping you miss the people you love, even if they’re right next to you. You do the same thing to Hannie and Lixie as well. Mere seconds later you shivered. You blindly turned around, angel in hand and got closer to Changbin, making yourself the little spoon. Changbin used two plushies as stacked pillows so he could rest his head as he cuddled you.

“Warmer?” Bin asked as he looped his hand over your body and the angel, his arm resting in the dip of your waist. He had a smile creeping on his face, he was like Chan in the right circumstances, a literal furnace. So resting with him was the best. Like a heated pillow and blanket draped over you. He knew that when you’re cold you seek warmth, especially when drowsy so he was waiting for you to start to migrate closer to him.

Soon your shivers stopped as you said, “mhm thanks Binnie” and you kissed his bicep, your version of a “thank you” as you melted into Bin’s chest. That interaction, once again, isn’t new. You kiss everyone, in appropriate places of course. It’s just how you are. If you’re cuddling with Hannie you peck him on the palm of his hands, if it’s Lixie or Minho, it's the cheeks all day every day. For Bin you peck his chest and arms. Bin as well as the others communicate the same way with you, Bin’s favorite places are the crown of your head and your forehead. Most of the boys follow suit with that tight parameter, except for Innah who will peck your hands, your fingers, whatever is accessible, even on the shoulder if you are cooking or something. 

Bin caught him pecking your shoulder once as a thanks and he yelled, “Yah! What makes you so special??”, just to hear you say, “Aye! Don’t yell at my baby! Lookathim, he’s just a baby,” you cooed as you squished his cheeks and scratched his scalp. I.N. just had a shit eating grin as he said, “Hyung, why are you mad at me? I’m just a baby…” Bin just said, “yeah tell that to your browser history.” You immediately went into a fit of laughter as Innah said, “How do you know about that??” Bin just looked at him and yelled, “get off the group email, you degenerate!” Bin, when he couldn’t get to your head, like that night, he’ll kiss your hands as he holds them. He remembered and held onto the memories between you and the boys, smiling as he watched you in your sleep. 

Eventually Minho got up and took a picture of course, Bin didn’t care though, as long as you weren’t disturbed. A little after Minho came and went, Hannie popped out of Lix’s room, he had an intent to his movements.

 See, there is this thing Hannie does. As soon as he gets up he is very cuddly, not to anyone else except you. He always saw you as his sister, the one he never had. It’s because of that he has this need to make sure you’re okay and he does that by early morning cuddles. That all started after you asked if you could sleep in one of the boy’s beds at night, missing the feeling of a body next to you. Han noticed that whenever you were either in your bed or Bin’s he would wake up with anxiety, his hands searching for you before his eyes even opened. It only dawned on him recently that for the first two weeks of asking, every night you approached Hannie. When he asked you why you hadn't asked Bin or Jinnie, you had said that you didn’t know how to ask Bin. Eventually, you did get around to asking Bin and he was fine with it. Hannie always knew mornings were the worst for you. He walked in many times, just like Bin did, when you’d be crying on Chan’s pillow. He noticed you didn’t do that when there was a body next to you. It didn’t matter how disheveled either of them looked, you would cuddle up and fall right back to sleep peacefully. 

The first time Han did this, he found you in your morning ritual of crying, then you felt the bed behind you dip, knowing it wasn’t Chris but one of the boys. You could even tell which one, it was Han. He always stepped lighter around you, especially when you were crying or sad. He knew that you would get startled otherwise. His heart only cracked further when you didn’t flinch or question who it was. Han didn’t say anything, he just delicately dug his hands into the ball you made of your body and he dragged you to himself.  He covered the both of you with the blankets and he whispered, “You don’t need that Anya, let that go for me. Come here, hold on to me… there you go... Good job Anya”. You let go of your husband’s pillow and grabbed on to Hannie, digging into his chest as you cried. His deep rumble soothing you as he said, “I’m so sorry, my heart breaks Anya. You don’t deserve this. Worth so much more. I got you, breathe.” Ever since then, Han always searched you out in the mornings. 

Hannie looked at Bin and yourself and laid down on the makeshift bed as he made himself known. At this point it’s so routine that you don’t even get startled. Hannie just turned you so you were now facing Bin, and Hannie dragged you to himself, gently of course.

“Hannie?” You groaned. You were so warm and all you could register was the feeling of being moved. You knew it was Hannie, you smirked to yourself as you waited for him to announce himself. Bin looked at the pair of you and couldn’t help but smile. This ritual that you and Hannie had was probably the cutest thing he has seen. The fact that it’s now routine is something that makes him so happy. The fact that all of the boys love you so much, it makes him not only proud of the boys, but it makes him happy to know that you will always have someone in your corner.

Han just whispers, “Mhm it’s me Anya, get some sleep, just holding you, that okay?” Forever the gentleman asking permission. You nodded and he pulled you in, the last thing you remembered was the momentary cold of the comforter as you were being pulled.  All that you registered after that was the rumble of the warm chest behind you as he spoke softly to Bin. After that you passed back out instantaneously. 

“How did she sleep?” Han asked. He was worried about how the first night went. He didn’t want you to feel crowded, which is why he slept on Lix’s floor, no comforter but he packed his sleeping bag in his overnight bag so he had no problem sleeping there.

“Good, I think.” Bin responded. Luckily Bin slept a little better, but he wouldn’t tell anyone about the sudden episodes, waking with a need to feel you close to him. The last thing he remembers of the nightmares being images of Chris trying to get to you. Some being of you unmoving, or of you willingly letting go of him. Those times he was so grateful that you wanted him to be in the bed with you. He’d immediately feel you close and he'd pass back out, not needing to open his eyes. 

“That’s good.” Han said. He could see it in Bin’s eyes. He’s been friends with him for almost a decade, in a lot of ways they grew up together, Bin may be good at hiding, but not good enough to hide from Han. “So are you going to tell me what is going on in your head now, hyung?” Han looked down, petting your hair back as he waited for the answer. 

“Just trust me when I say you don’t want any of the ideas implanted in your head, Han. I know I am not okay right now. As soon as she starts therapy, I’m going right after her,” Bin’s face was hard as he looked at Han, if he didn’t have that scowl on his face, he knew he’d collapse. “I’m sorry I scared you earlier… I should have more composure than I did.” Han knew exactly what he was talking about. Han was terrified in that waiting room, seeing Bin’s entire demeanor shift. His happy, funny, go lucky brother… just gone, replaced with anger, pain, suffering incarnate. 

Han looked at him, “I’m not going to lie, it did terrify me, you meant every word of what you said.” He saw Bin’s eyebrows drop, his lips went from tight to relaxed, almost downturned as his jaw clenched momentarily, his mouth opened in a tiny breath. Han continued, “But you also need to know that your reaction is justified. You had and still have every right to be enraged. It’s not your fault that all of this happened. Chris is a manipulator, he had this show well rehearsed. We didn’t see it. We all didn’t see it Bin. So please don’t blame yourself, because it’s just like what Y/N told Minho, we aren’t responsible for another man’s actions.”

“I don’t know why he did it. I keep on racking my brain. She did everything possible to make him happy. She tore herself apart for him.” Changbin always had that in the back of his head whenever he had time to himself. Even if he was just using the restroom, he couldn’t fathom why. That was when Changbin realized, anything you did, wasn't going to be enough. You already gave him so much yet he just didn't care. He wanted more, like a black hole in your life. You can never fill a glass with a hole in the bottom.

Han said, “The why doesn’t matter. What matters is her.” He tilted his head to you, “I got a call from management, they’re giving us two months off. Apparently Chris let them know what happened.” Bin’s jaw opened and Han cut him off before a syllable could be uttered, “I asked them specifically what he said, they told me. The story he gave checked out. He told them the truth. Which honestly scares me more, Bin.” Changbin’s heart dropped once he heard that. “Oh God. Okay. I’ll talk to PR and see what the plan is.” He responded. “I’ll do it later though. I… we just need peace right now. I need to go out. Get her some sanitary items and I’m going to grab more medicine, a heating pad, all of that.” This isn’t Bin’s first rodeo, he has an older sister who basically taught him everything about the reproductive system. Bin has also shared a bathroom with you for years so he already knows your size, your flow throughout it, all of it. 

Since you were now cuddling Han, Changbin is now free. Knowing he had a few things to do he grabbed his overnight bag and opened it. Grabbing his shower gel, toothbrush, change of clothes and his razor. Bin hasn’t ever been more excited to shower and shave. He hasn’t done things like that since the morning of when it happened.  

He headed to the shower and set up. As he undressed his mind was blank. He was focused on getting you what you need and coming back as quickly as possible. Bin was in the shower for a while, letting it seep into his bones. He could feel the sensation start in his throat. The recognizable tightness in his throat, his heart heavier than the previous time he had this urge. His breathing ragged, he wondered what he could’ve done differently, he didn’t want to lose you. Logically, he knew he wouldn't. But would you hold it against him for not saying anything about what he was feeling about the marriage? Would you hate him? He could hear you laugh and see your smile as his chest tightened. He saw all of the looks on your face that night and the pain that he tried to quell. He tried to remind himself that this isn’t his fault. He couldn’t hold it in anymore as he let the sobs rack his body silently. He focused on the sound of the water hitting all around him in the shower.

After letting some of it out. He looked up, letting the water rain down on him. It allowed him to breathe. He felt better after he finished his shower. As soon as he looked in the mirror on the wall just above the sink he realized something. Changbin hasn’t looked in a mirror in days. His eyes always focused on you. He wiped the steam away as he saw himself. His face dusted with the beginnings of a 5 o’clock shadow, his hair wet and already looking a little curly. He also noticed the slightest bags under his eyes, which didn’t surprise him. He reminisced at how obsessed you were over his curls. 

You yourself helped him with his hair routine when you noticed how crunchy the curls were. You ran to the store to get all the necessary hair products and you taught him how to relax the curls and not fight them. He looked at the products laid out in front of him smiling. After he styled his hair he headed out.

It was maybe an hour later that the house came back to life, well relatively. Han wanted you to sleep as much as possible so he scolded whoever came in and made too much noise. It was only so long Minho could hold out though, so he decided to make Hotteok, a close to American pancake filled with sugar, walnuts, and cinnamon. For yours he put in extra things like dark chocolate, berries, and mango, for your iron count. Everyone else got the basic version. Which Han grumbled about but Minho just ignored him. As Han went to the restroom you stirred at the sounds and smells in the kitchen. You felt behind you for Han and you didn’t find him, so you reached in front of you, knowing Binnie was there, but he wasn’t. 

You opened your eyes reluctantly as you got your bearings. You couldn’t really grasp that Bin could possibly be out but all you know is that your nose is still a little sensitive. For some reason you are craving Changbin’s scent. It happened a few times when you were carrying, but the urge was never this bad. You needed to smell his fresh scented cologne and the slight hint of him, the perfect combo you’d always get when you’d nestle into his neck. 

You tried smelling his pillow, the scent too faint to quench your craving. You smelled the comforter and it wasn’t near enough for you. Then you saw him. You grabbed the plush and buried your face in it. It was exactly what you needed, taking a deep breath in and relaxing. You got up slowly, your body still sore. You grunted as you finally made it to your feet. You heard Minho humming in the kitchen and decided on going there. 

Minho could hear the pattering of bare feet behind him. Then your sleepy voice spoke out, “MinMin?” Minho turned around and smiled softly at you, then he noticed what was in your hands.

“Beautiful? Why are you holding Gyu?” he asked as he worked on filling the pancakes.

You replied in the smallest voice, “Smells like him. Where’s Binnie?” Minho’s face softened hearing you say that. All of the boys knew that your cravings were still ongoing but it was something new that you craved smells too,well, to Minho at least. You had this problem even when you were still carrying, you would enlist Seungmin’s help. Seungmin’s scent was something you were obsessed with in the first month. Seungmin, of course being the friend he is, researched why you needed to smell him, finding that yes scents are a part of pregnancy cravings. Some days you would just ask to smell him and he had no problem coming over just for you to cuddle up to him on the couch for a few hours, unintentionally rolling around in his grip like a cat rolls in catnip.  Whenever Seungmin caught you doing that he would poke fun at you, but in all honesty it was the cutest thing he’s seen.

“Changbin went out to get you some things. He should be back soon.”

“Ok… what are you making?” You asked as you tried to see what he was up to.

“Breakfast, I’m making yours with mango, berries, and dark chocolate.” He said as you smiled excitedly. You heard Han’s voice behind you, “I told you not to wake her, hyung.” 

As soon as you turned around Han’s heart melted as he said, “Wh-What are you doing with Gyu, Anya??” You could tell Han was three seconds away from squealing and waking up the house officially. 

You answered in a tiny voice, realizing that you probably look very cute, hugging Gyu to your chest and still in pajamas. “Gyu smells like him… Waiting for my Binnie to come home.” You buried your face into Gyu as you looked up at Hannie. 

“How are you this CUTE?!” Han squealed.

Minho immediately said, “YAH keep it DOWN!” 

That made you giggle uncontrollably as you sniffed Gyu. Han ran out of the kitchen and came back with his phone, “Can I take a picture? You are too cute right now.”

You nodded, and just like that the picture was taken as you rubbed your eyes with one hand, making Hannie coo at the picture. He went into the group chat (Obviously without Chris in it.) 

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

hello! i’m love your post and arts so much! I look at your posts after a hard day and my mood immediately changes to excellent. can I ask a couple of questions?

which pairing with Ethan do you prefer?

and… can we get to know you better? a little biography?

Thank you for your time! I'll be waiting for new arts! (sorry if i made mistakes, my english is not so good. im russian)

i like basically every ship with ethan! it mostly depends on the mood im in, but if im being honest, mithan, winterfield, and wintersberg gets frustrating to think about because they all dont treat ethan well canonically... lethan is fun because they have never met and i can make my own assumptions!

i used to like wintersberg the most and i still do like it, i just have expanded my horizons to other ships as well...., its mostly like a punchline to me though. they have the funniest potential which is why a majority of their posts is just joke comics. i do not like how people try to erase how karl is arrogant and egotistical tho. thats like removing the flavor.... the way karl acts is just very funny to me, hes so lame in a good way and i like how everytime he talks to ethan it sounds like hes twirling his hair and kicking his feet. canonically speaking, karl was very much in the wrong for trying to use rose and not elaborating and i will die on this hill. ethan is not in the wrong for being disgusted and angry that karl would ever try and propose that in the deal. karl is very arrogant so when ethan says no to him it makes him mad and he tries to use fear to get ethan to take his deal (kicking his chair and warning him) i like karl, i like how messed up and arrogant he is but i dislike how people try to portray him as a nice guy. however, in a AU where everythings the same except he doesnt try to use rose i do enjoy the dynamic they could have, especially if the teamed up (not with the deal where they use rose. ethan wouldnt agree unless karl never involved rose in the first place). karl is just a very entertaining character and i like him a lot, hes funny and his personality can be extremely hilarious

mia and ethan is pretty tragic and thinking about it too much makes me a bit sad, imo in a reality where ethan survives re8, he needs to divorce mia. im not saying ethan needs to hate mia and never talk to her again i just dont think they should be so intimate together because of her behavior... please do not take this as anti mia. they loved each other dearly but it wasnt healthy. their relationship was kept afloat by lies and mia doesnt change even though she deals with the consequences of her own actions in re7. she actively tries to hide her past from ethan and is mostly focused on trying to move on and have a normal life even if ethan will have to live the rest of his life in the dark.

she loves her family so much, shes very afraid of them leaving her so she hides all the bad things in the hopes that they wont leave. its selfish, its human, its real, her character is so amazing and i love her. she doesnt learn from re7 and hides important information from ethan again. i geniunly think they should have gotten divorced after re8 if ethan had survived. its tragic and its sad but they love each other so much. it sad because they both geniunly love rose so much but they themselves shouldnt be together. its just sad to think about it. whenever i draw them it usually takes place before re7. they should have divorced on good terms and shared custody of rose.........

ethan and chris is also frustrating to think about... chris is a major jerk in re8, whenever i draw it, its under a unspoken AU that chris did not behave the way he did in re8. his weird behavior in re8 is probably for a meta reason imo. capcom wanted to set up a twist villian so they make chris very vague and unesscarily cruel. while its frustrating that they turned chris into a jerk for the sake of a twist, it still happens in canon and i will forever roll my eyes whenever i see him on screen. he did what he thought was best but imo, execution matters more than the intentions. same applies to mia. they both did things that hurt ethan because they thought it would be the best but in the end they just hurt ethan.

all the ships ive discussed with people ethan has met canonically just makes it look like i dont even like the ships... LOL ... ethan just has horrible luck with the people he meets i guess... but i do enjoy the ships and drawing them, but again all of them come with the canon baggage that ends up making me sad because everyone treats ethan poorly whether they had good intentions or not

which is why leon and ethan is the most fun to draw without getting stressed... LOL... they have never met but just drawing what i think their dynamic would be like is very fun.

please dont take this post personally, this isnt a post declaring why ur fave ship sucks, this is just my own personal preferences and in the end i draw all of them anyways

if i had to rank the ships based on drawing silly comics it would be

wintersberg

mithan

lethan

winterfield

wintersberg has the funniest potential just because of karl and mithan can be funny if u water it down to "i love my wife so much" and said wife comes home with suspicious amounts of hard cash

i enjoy making joke comics far to much

if i were to rank the ships based on how healthy they would actually be for ethan it would be

lethan

winterfield, mithan, wintersberg (no particular order)

sorry 😭

leon and ethan have literally never met but imo it would still be the healthiest because ethan gets to start new

the three other ships r all unhealthy in some way, at least canonically without changing much about the characters (i do like winterfield but just because of how chris behaved in re8 it knocked them down)

i cant even rank them on personal preference because my opinion changes so often 😭 it changes based on discussions i have with my friends or recent art i see that inspires me... me and my friends recently had a discussion about mia and ethans relationship which made me very frustrated and sad with mia so i defiently wouldnt be drawing them anytime soon... meanwhile i hvae been talking to a friend who really likes winterfield often so the conversations we have give me art ideas and i end up drawing it more. if a friend of mine really enjoyed wintersberg or lethan and talked to me about it often id probably start drawing it more, the joys of being a multishipper

it changes a lot based on how im feeling and if im in the mood to draw something funny or something serious

sorry u asked a really simple question and i responded with a essay

and a little bit about myself is that i go by crumb, i am 18 and i go by all pronouns and prefer it/its

im vietnamese and live in texas

i made this tumblr acc solely so i could post my ethan art and im a re7/re8 girly so if ur here waiting for me to draw the re1-re6 characters im sorry u should probably expect nothing

i also make personal animations sometimes which u can find here

thanks for the ask and sorry for the rant!

[solar-wing]

⚣ It's Not A Competition 🥇

⚣👊🏻 A/N → SURPRISE! double post today! I've been wanting to do a Clark Kent post forever but never had any good ideas. Then, this popped into my mind. Also, I'm really trying to clear out my drafts and any old requests. WARNINGS: Canon-Typical Violence | Jealousy | Established Relationship

⚣👊🏻 Summary → Dark Knight this and Dark Knight that. What about Superman?! He's also a great hero! Better than Batman, at least. The guy doesn't even have powers. But that's what makes him more interesting and cool, according to Y/N. And frankly, Clark has had quite enough and intends to show him why Superman is way better than Batman.

⚣👊🏻 Words → 4.7K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 👊🏻

Clark just didn’t get it.

Why was it that Y/N was so obsessed with Batman and not Superman? All the young reporter ever talked about was the Dark Knight and how he was so cool and mysterious. Going on and on about his awesome gadgets and the fact that he had no powers, which made him so interesting.

Clark very much would beg to differ.

“You know, Superman can shoot lasers out of his eyes, and I heard he can move faster than the speed of sound,” Clark pointed out while walking with Y/N down the sidewalk. They decided to go out for lunch and since the Daily Planet was so close to one of Y/N's favorite restaurants downtown, he figured, why not just walk together?

“Clark, not this again,” Y/N chuckled while sipping his drink.

“I’m sorry, you just always talk about how great Batman is, and I’m not saying he’s bad, but I don’t get how he’s better than Superman?”

“You know, you’re starting to sound like Lois with all your Superman praise and comparison.”

“Well, she’s not wrong. I mean, come on. What can Batman do that Superman can’t?” Clark asked, looking down at his boyfriend while waiting for an answer.

“Batman’s quicker on his feet. He thinks of solutions faster and more creatively than what I’ve seen from Superman. Plus, he’s resourceful. The guy’s got a freaking jet. The only people I could think of that own jets and planes and all the crazy gadgets he has would probably be Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne.”

Clark tried not to react to the irony of that statement, rather focusing on how he could combat that logic even though it was true. He had to admit that his comrade, whether in the field or in practice, was very good at analyzing a situation and using whatever he had around him to his advantage.

Still, it didn’t mean he was better than him.

“Well, Superman can also fly, and as many have witnessed, is crazy strong.”

“Yes, he is. But if Batman can afford a jet, I’m pretty sure he can afford a jetpack, too. Plus, we all know how strong Superman is, some more than others. Their insurance claims can definitely speak to how strong he is.”

That last line Y/N said was more so to himself than as a statement to Clark. However, it didn’t take away the slight sting from his words, considering how true they were.

“So you’re saying Superman is reckless and bad at his job or something?” Clark accused.

“What? No, I’m not saying that at all. Why are you getting so defensive about this? You’re acting as if you know the guy. Wait, do you know him?” Y/N asked, now looking up at his giant of a boyfriend.

Sometimes, he wondered what kind of genes ran in Clark’s family. It was a bit of a puzzle to Y/N why the six-foot-something man was in journalism rather than something that seemed more his speed, like fitness or athletics.

“No, of course not. I just don’t think it’s fair or even logical to compare Superman to someone like Batman, considering what each of them has respectfully achieved, not to mention the state of their cities and everything. I mean, have you ever been to Gotham before?” Clark asked, doing his best to not draw any more curiosity or suspicion out of the younger male.

Not that he was doing a good job of that in the first place.

Clark just wished he could’ve shown Y/N why Superman was better than Batman. They’d only been dating for a few months so it wasn’t reasonable or even smart for the Kryptonian to consider revealing his identity to him, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Clark, it’s not a competition. You know that, right?” Y/N said, placing his hand on Clark’s arm.

They paused in their steps, Clark looking down at the gentle hand lying across his forearm before looking up into the eyes that always put him under a spell. He smiled to himself, thinking of the fact that even if Y/N favored Batman over Superman, Clark was still the real winner, because he had him.

He took his hand in his own, doing his best to contain his excitement pulse at the feeling of his larger hand surrounding the smaller one in his grip. Y/N was still a male, so his hand wasn’t dainty or small by any means, but compared to Clark’s, it might as well have been.

“Yeah, I know. Sorry, I got a little bit crazy.” Clark apologized with a small kiss on the shorter man’s hand causing a slight blush to appear on the smaller male’s cheeks.

“It’s ok. Besides, I like a little bit of crazy. Keeps things interesting.” Y/N said before continuing their walk towards Clark’s place of work.

‘You have no idea,’ Clark thought to himself as he followed behind, letting himself be tugged along.

They returned to the Daily Planet to find everywhere in a buzz, chattering excitedly with each other as various individuals were either running to the bathroom with pouches of makeup and skincare and others at their desks touching up their hair and clothes.

“What’s going on?” Clark asked aloud as he strode into the office while still holding Y/N’s hand.

“Was it like this when we left?” His boyfriend asked, chuckling at the comical movements and gestures of the rushing to get re-ready for whatever was happening.

“No, it was actually the opposite,” The reporter stated before eventually spotting Lois at her desk, who was also touching up her makeup and hair. He made his way over to the desk area, narrowly avoiding multiple people rushing while pulling Y/N closer to him to keep him from getting bumped into.

“Lois, what’s going on?”

“Oh, hey, Smallville. Hello, Y/N. Didn’t you both get the emergency email Perry sent to everyone earlier?” She said in her usual fast-paced, business tone while curling her eyelashes.

“No, We were at lunch. What was the email about?”

“Oh, Clark. Must I always have to save your butt?” Lois said before handing her phone over to the man, Y/N chuckling behind him at the comment.

Clark threw him a look while Y/N did his best to keep a neutral face before reading over the email.

“Bruce Wayne is coming to the Daily Planet?”

Y/N's eyes went comically large at the mention, immediately jumping to read the email for himself, “No way!”

Lois smirked to herself before grabbing her phone back from the man, while Clark just stared at his boyfriend in jealous shock from his excited outburst. “Yep. Wayne Enterprises has announced its support of various major liberal movements and is donating large proceeds to different organizations calling for massive change in the nation. And with this being an election year, many political figures and business entities are feeling a little uneasy at this sudden new support from the tech giant. And yours truly, landed the exclusive interview with him to get all the nitty and gritty details .”

Y/N’s eyes were almost bugging out of his head, before he ran to the bathroom himself, snatching his hand from Clark’s who looked desperately after him.

“Dammit, Bruce.” The reporter growled under his breath.

“You say something?” Lois asked while powdering her nose.

“No,” Clark responded gruffly, an irritated glint in his eye before walking to his own desk.

After everyone has ridiculously made themselves extra presentable, including Y/N much to Clark’s annoyance, the pair stand outside the room with a few others, watching through the glass pane walls as the interview is broadcast live to the entire nation. Lois asked Mr. Wayne various questions, ranging from his real intentions behind his charitable donations to whether he was looking to begin any political endeavors and win the favor of the public.

Bruce answers every question with confidence and suaveness, leaving no room for questions about his actions, and denies any political motivations. Y/N watched impressed from the other end while Clark just looked around with a grim and irritated look, his arms crossed as he listened to the interview and watched his boyfriend fanboy over his secret comrade.

“Well, you certainly seem like the charming and noble benefactor, Mr. Wayne. I can see why you're known as ‘Gotham’s Favorite Son.’ I have to ask though, even if you truly have no political ambitions, aren’t you worried that these donations and announcements along with the unwavering stance you’ve taken on these political topics will inevitably place a target on you?” Lois asked, notepad and pen sitting with poise and precision, ready to take down every little thing the billionaire said.

“Wow, I can see why she’s so respected. She’s nailing this interview.” Y/N commented.

Clark nodded to that. Even if he wasn’t feeling the most agreeable at the moment, he’d always give hats off to Lois’ skills. The woman was a powerhouse when it came to this stuff.

“Well, first off, thank you for your earlier comment. I don’t think of myself as anyone’s favorite, but even I can’t control what the public says or does,” Bruce responded with his ever-so-billion-dollar smile, earning a laugh from Lois and probably every other American tuning into this broadcast, including Y/N.

Clark, however, wasn’t impressed. He’d heard funnier.

“But, to answer your question,” Bruce continued, “...any move in the business or even the political world I imagine can be considered a risky one. I’m not going to pretend that my decisions have made some very happy, and others very unhappy. That’s life. You can’t please everyone. But, to sit and accept things as the way they are for fear of retaliation or backlash is misery in itself. I believe anyone who doesn’t speak up for what they truly believe or want for fear of ‘rocking the boat’ is just content with living in their own misery. And, let me be clear before I’m canceled—I know the meaning behind that now thanks to my kids, particularly my two youngest sons—I’m not saying someone who’s genuinely content and happy with where they are is included in this. I’m specifically talking to those who want change, and want to create a better world, but are waiting for others to do it for them.”

Despite its clichéness, many in the hall gave a small clap to the CEO’s words, Y/N looking thoroughly impressed himself.

“Wow, he really is an inspiring man,” Y/N commented.

“He’s alright,” Clark said in response.

Y/N gave the taller man a suspicious side look, “Alright, what’s going on with you? You’ve been standing there pouting

since this interview started. What, do you not like Bruce Wayne or something?"

Clark sighed before looking down at his boyfriend. It was true, he wasn't really liking the guy at the moment. But, it was just because he was so jealous. He didn’t like how Y/N was looking at him, or how he was talking about him.

It wasn't fair.

The reporter wanted Y/N to be looking at him and only him like that, and he wanted his attention and affection, and he wanted him to only talk about him like that. It was petty, and it was selfish, but Clark didn’t care.

He just wanted Y/N to only admire Clark Kent. not Bruce Wayne.

Only Superman, not Batman.

Despite Y/N's earlier words about it not being a competition, Clark knew the truth. It was a competition, one he was not planning on losing.

"No, I don't not like him. I'm just not that impressed, is all. He's not a superhero." Clark said.

"Neither is Lex Luthor. But, that doesn't stop the public from making him the villain in his story. I'm sure there's a lot more to Bruce Wayne than the media is letting on."

"Oh, trust me. There's more to him than what meets the eye," Clark mumbled to himself as the interview was getting ready to wrap up.

"Well, on behalf of the Daily Planet, I'd like to thank you for joining us today. Your words are certainly ones that will not go unheard by many. I look forward to—"

Before Lois could finish speaking, the lights in the building suddenly went out, leaving the office pitch black. A few people in the hall gasp, Y/N instinctively grabbing Clark's arm, who in turn places his hand over the smaller man's own.

"What's going on?" Someone asks.

"I don't know. It's almost like a blackout, but it can't be because we have backup generators. They should've turned it on by now." Another responded.

"Clark, what's going on?" Y/N asked toward his boyfriend, who was holding the smaller male closer to him out of instinct.

"I'm not exactly sure..."

Just as he said that, the lights came back on, and everyone was looking around confused as to what the source of the blackout was.

"Oh my god!" One of the people in the hall screamed suddenly as everyone turned back towards the interview room. Inside the room, some members of the crew suddenly had masks with insignias covering their faces on them. One of them was behind Lois holding a dagger to her neck while another stood to the side, pointing a gun directly at Bruce's head.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt, Ms. Lane," The individual in the middle of the room said, "But, this interview isn't over just yet."

"Who the hell are you people?!" Lois asked, fear and anger in her eyes as the blade was held to her neck.

"Wouldn't you like to know? As for Mr. Wayne, we're going to have a little chat. I suggest you and your friends don't follow or intervene. Otherwise, this broadcast won't be the only thing getting cut" The masked individual threatened, nodding to Lois.

"Don't you dare touch her," Bruce warned, his expression serious, as he got ready to stand.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Mr. Wayne. We wouldn't want anything bad to happen, now would we? Especially with all of America watching right now."

Bruce sat back down, knowing that his opponent was right. He couldn't let them hurt Lois, and he certainly couldn't risk any lives in this room.

"Don't worry, Mr. Wayne. We'll make this quick," The leader said as one of the other masked goons went to lock the door that led inside the interview room.

"Clark, we have to do something," Y/N said, his heart racing a mile a minute.

"I know. Stay here. I'll be back." Clark said before running off, leaving the smaller male alone.

"What? Clark, wait! Where are you going?" Y/N called after him, but the taller man didn't hear him, already too far away.

'What the hell is he doing?' Y/N thought to himself before turning his attention back towards the situation in front of him.

As Clark rounded the corner and made his way down the hallway, he made sure no one was watching him before he ran as fast as he could into the supply closet. Once inside, he quickly changed into his suit before taking off through the backdoor.

"So, how does it feel knowing that you're on the side of the wrong? How does it feel knowing that no matter what you do, you'll never be able to fix the mess you made? All the lives lost because of you," The masked man asked Bruce, who was sitting calmly in his chair, his eyes not showing an ounce of fear.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't. None of you wealthy elites do. You don't know the pain and suffering your companies and your products cause to others. You don't know the misery you cause. Well, allow us to show you." The man said before signaling his partners.

One of them immediately moved and grabbed a hold of the camera, pointing it directly at the masked man in the center.

"Hello, Metropolis. And hello, America. If you're watching this, that means you're just as much a part of this as we are. if you've been sitting here listening to the lies and promises of a better world by this man and his kind, you are as much a part of his schemes as he is. It is because of people like him that we have the world we live in. It's because of people like him that so many of us suffer. It's because of people like him that the world will only continue to rot and decay until there is nothing left but a pile of ashes. But, we will not be the ones who burn. We will not be the ones who lose. We will not be the ones who suffer, not anymore. Today, we fight back. Today, we will show the world that we will not be silenced, we will not be oppressed. We will not allow the likes of him and his kind to continue to control us anymore with false promises of a better tomorrow while lining their own pockets. Today, we say enough is enough. Today, we rise. Today, we will take back what is rightfully ours. Today, we take back our freedom and our lives from the rich and corrupt." The man spoke, his words filled with conviction and determination, but also hatred and poison as he stared deep into the camera.

"And if any of you try to stop us, then you will be considered just as guilty as the rest of them. We will not be silenced. We will not be ignored. And if you think that the likes of Batman and Superman will save you, I wouldn't be too sure of that..."

As soon as the leader was done with his speech, the sound of the glass shattering was heard as Superman broke through the windows, flying into the room before stopping directly in front of the man holding the camera.

"But, I am..." The Man of Steel said, shooting a laser beam at the dagger being held by the goon threatening Lois. He immediately dropped the blade as it became too hot, giving the Daily Planet reporter the opportunity she needed to escape his hold.

"Bastards," She cursed, turning around and delivering a kick to the masked man's groin.

He groaned out in pain, falling to the floor before Lois punched him in the face, knocking him out.

Superman turned his attention back toward the masked man standing in the center, "I believe it's time for you to take a hike."

"Not yet. We still have unfinished business," The man said before signaling his other henchman. The man immediately aimed his gun at the Kryptonian, firing shot after shot into him.

Superman stood his ground as the bullets hit him, before eventually, the gun ran out.

"You're right. This is definitely the end," Superman said as he flew toward the man, knocking him out before he could reload his gun.

As Superman finished off the last of the henchmen, the leader turned back towards the camera, "Sorry, Superman. But, the damage has already been done. I hope you enjoyed this little taste of what's to come."

Before the Kryptonian could stop him, the man took out a smoke bomb, throwing it onto the ground and covering the room in a cloud of smoke.

"Crap," Superman cursed, unable to see as the man escaped.

As the smoke began to clear, Bruce took out his phone, "Alfred, I need you to track this signal."

"Understood, sir. I've also informed the police and they're on their way," Alfred responded.

"Good," Bruce said before turning back towards the room.

The actual camera crew was not out in the hall, hugging their co-workers who were all relieved at their safety. The broadcast was cut from the air, but there was no doubt every TV station from here to San Francisco was talking about it. Y/N was standing nearby, his eyes filled with awe and admiration as he stared up at Superman.

There was something oddly familiar about him.

...

Nah.

"That was incredible, Mr. Wayne," Lois said.

"I could say the same thing about you. I'm glad you're ok."

Lois smiled at him, "You were worried about me?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?" Bruce asked, a small smile forming on his lips.

Lois blushed slightly before turning back to look at Superman, who was now standing right in front of the two.

"Thank you for the save, Superman," Lois said, extending her hand out to the Kryptonian.

"My pleasure," Superman said, shaking the woman's hand before his attention was drawn toward Bruce who just gave him an appreciative nod. Though the look in his eyes signaled they would definitely be communicating about things later.

As Bruce and Lois moved towards the hallway, Lois spotted Y/N who was standing close to the door peeking inside.

"Oh Y/N, there you are! Thank goodness, you're alright." Lois said, walking over to him and hugging him.

"Yeah, I'm ok. Are you?" He asked, looking up at the woman.

"I'm fine. I'm tougher than I look."

"That's good to hear. And, it's good to see you’re okay as well Mr. Wayne. That was scary." Y/N said, turning his attention to the billionaire.

"Yes, I'm glad I'm alright, too," Bruce said, his attention on Y/N.

"Oh, Bruce Wayne, this is Y/N L/N. He's one of our upcoming new reporters along with Clark Kent, who you've met before." Lois said, introducing the two.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wayne," Y/N said, extending his hand out.

Bruce took it, giving the younger man a firm handshake, "The pleasure is all mine."

As the two looked at each other, Clark was standing nearby, his gaze focused on the two, his fists clenched.

'I swear to Rao...' He thought to himself, jealousy coursing through his body as he watched the two interact.

"So, Mr. Wayne, what do you think that was all about?" Y/N asked.

Bruce turned to look at the woman, an amused eyebrow raised, "He must be getting trained by you," He said, sparking a laugh from Lois and another eye roll from the Kryptonian before flying off, "And please, call me Bruce. Mr. Wayne makes me feel old."

"Bruce, then. What do you think that was all about?" Y/N asked again.

"Well, I can't be certain, but based on their words and their actions, I'd say they were a group of anarchists."

"Anarchists?"

"Yes. They're not an uncommon group. Many people are growing tired of the way things are in this country. With the state of the economy and the government, it's only a matter of time before things begin to boil over."

"So, you think this is going to happen more often?"

"I'm not sure. But, I have a feeling we haven't seen the last of them."

Y/N nodded his thoughts on the events that had transpired earlier.

"Y/N!" Clark called, interrupting the conversation.

"Clark, there you are! You had me worried sick," The smaller male said while hugging his boyfriend, missing the sharp look the taller man was throwing at the billionaire.

"I just went to alert the building security and the police. Seems everything turned alright though since Superman showed up," Clark said, wrapping an arm around the younger man's waist while still giving a side eye to Bruce who was watching with amusement.

"Yes, thank goodness he did. I'm sure we all owe him a huge thanks for his services."

"Yes, indeed we do. But, unfortunately, I must be going now. It was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N." Bruce said, extending his hand once more to the younger man, who took it, shaking it gently.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, too."

Bruce smiled at him before turning back to Lois, "And it was a pleasure seeing you again, Lois."

"Likewise, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce smirked, "I do believe we're a bit past the formalities now, Lois. Please, call me Bruce."

"Of course. Bruce." The woman replied, her tone flirty and her expression coy.

Y/N noticed this and turned to look at Clark, whose expression was blank as he looked on.

"Will do, Lois. I look forward to our next meeting," Bruce said before stopping in front of Clark.

"Good seeing you as well Clark, as short-lived as it was," Bruce said, extending his hand out for a handshake.

Clark reluctantly took it, the handshake lasting longer than was necessary.

"Likewise," Clark replied.

Bruce nodded, his eyes giving the reporter a knowing look before he was escorted out by security.

Once the billionaire was out of sight, Clark and Y/N decided to leave as well, making their way towards the elevator.

"Well, that was a crazy day," Y/N said.

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"Do you think Bruce Wayne knows Batman?"

Clark stopped mid-step, a shocked expression on his face as he looked down at his boyfriend.

"Are you serious right now? You can't be serious?" The taller man said with an indignant expression.

"What?"

"You're still thinking of Batman after Superman just came and saved everyone?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, he's a hero too. They both are. Besides, Superman is always getting most of the credit, don't you think? It would make sense if they were working together. You know, the world's greatest detective and the world's greatest hero, solving crime and catching the bad guys. Wouldn't that be so cool?" Y/N asked, his eyes gleaming with excitement at the thought.

"No, not really. I don't see why that would be a good idea," Clark said, rolling his eyes.

Y/N sighed, "Clark, remember what we talked about earlier about it not being a competition?"

Clark looked down at the smaller man, his eyes filled with frustration, "Yeah, but it doesn't mean you have to obsess over Batman. Superman is just as obsessed-worthy!"

"Clark, seriously, what is up with you? It's not like I want to marry him or something."

"You're acting like you want to," Clark mumbled under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Look, Clark. I'm not going to say I'm not a fan of Batman. I mean, I think he's cool. But, that doesn't mean that I'm not a fan of Superman either. I'm a fan of both of them. I think they're both great heroes, and I think they both do good work."

"But, you don't think that Batman is cooler, or that he's better than Superman?" Clark asked, his expression pleading.

"I mean, I guess. But, why does that matter? Why are you so hung up about this?"

"Because, I—" Clark started before stopping, knowing he was about to give away his identity.

"You what?"

"I just want you to think of me, is all," Clark said, looking down at the ground, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Y/N's heart softened at the confession, the older man looking like a little kid who just got his favorite toy taken away. He stepped forward, cupping the taller man's face in his hands, causing him to look up.

"Clark, I do think about you. I think about you all the time and I love how protective you are of me. Whether I like Batman or Superman more isn't going to change that" Y/N said, trying his best to ease his boyfriend's fears.

"Promise?" Clark asked.

Y/N chuckled, "I promise."

"Good," Clark smiled while leaning down to place a kiss against his boyfriend's lips, "You should still like Superman more."

Y/N rolled his eyes, "Sure thing, Clark. I'll work on that."

"Thank you."

"Whatever. Now come on, we now have a celebratory date to go on." Y/N said as he grabbed Clark's hand.

"What are we celebrating?" Clark asked with a laugh as he was pulled towards the elevator.

It was always adorable watching the smaller male pull Clark around like it was nothing.

"Surviving our first criminal encounter together," Y/N said while hitting the first-floor button.

"First?"

"Honey, we live in a city with sky-high insurance because a superhero lives here. You really think this will be the last?"

He definitely doesn't.

☀️ | Clark Kent/Superman | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[bangsinc]

Can i request a spot x reader Who likes to draw him and lets him stay in their house.

Also you are life saver since you are the only one who is writing spot headcannons ���

✏️Spot and an artist reader who lets him crash!(Hcs/Drabble)🗯️

I’m so sorry I couldn’t think of something silly for a title.. BUT TYSM FOR THE COMPLIMENT! I rly wanna give him love since nobody is rn! He’s so pookie

No warnings, just fluff. Mutual pining! Yay!

For the majority of the past couple years, Spots been an outcast to society, someone who wouldn’t be welcome anymore no matter what he did or how he hid. A job, something that could have saved him, wasn’t feesable anymore, and he couldn’t find anyplace to live.. that is, until there was you.

You were a complete godsend to this.. creature. A place to stay was more than what he could ask for. He didn’t need to eat, or do much anymore, but he still wanted a sence of community.

He could never repay you, never. The only person that’s ever been kind to him is letting him stay for.. nothing in return. As a way to return the sentiment and ease the overbearing guilt he feels that someone (as amazing and beautiful as you) let him into their home with open arms, he steals things.

Expect little trinkets! Oh? You like video games? That’s crazy because he just came across this one copy of..

He doesn’t crash persay, he lives. He craves the affection and love, so it’s difficult for him to not spend every night in your home. It’s warm, cozy, and best of all you don’t seem to care for what he looks like.

And like.. yknow, maybe you guys cuddle sometimes.

As for your hobby of drawing him, he would consider it the highest honor. You see him as something worth replicating on pen and paper? You want to show it to others too?? Congratulations, you just earned yourself a free model.

Gushes over your work, maybe keeps some of it for himself. Oh, he’s crushing hard. Maybe he’ll even try to draw you! Don’t expect anything.. good though. He was a scientist! Not an artist! But.. it would mean a lot to him if you kept what he gave you. It’s the least you could do, make him a happy little guy.

He may not be expressive, but you can almost see the flattery oozing from him as he eyes your work with the upmost curiosity. You’re so talented!

Little Drabble!

The lights of your bedroom, dim and gentle, reflect upon his pale face. He looks around curiously, his expression as it usually is, unreadable. He looks at you for a moment, the hole on his face narrowing in almost panic.

“T—thanks for letting me stay agai—look, I can’t really repay you or-“ He mumbles, rocking back and fourth on his feet nervously.

Your expression wracked him. The kind, empathetic smile on your face didn’t wane once, even if you both knew there wasn’t any way he could pay you back. You stay quiet, mainly to find the right words to tell him. With every passing second, doubt knawed at him. This was too good to be true.. this was going to end sooner than he hoped. You were going to tell him to get ou—

“That’s okay, don’t worry about it.” You speak, your voice quiet as to not startle him further. The weight of your words pressed on his shoulders, making it difficult for him to catch his breath.

“Really?” He approaches you swiftly, a sence of hope painted his expression, the brush that was his feelings painting a portrait of never ending gratitude.

“Really.” You repeat his words, arms outstretched, your smile never once waning. He can feel his spotted emotions get the better of him and he’s quick to bring you into a hug, his face digging into the crook of your neck.

[twola]

I always hate like “requesting” something because it feels like a forceful “write this for me now!” kind of thing, but a I’ve always had this smutty idea in my head where Arthur is getting a little weaker from the TB, but is also pinning after some cute girl in camp. Some wooing occurs and things start getting steamy~ but it’s her first time or she’s not super experienced. I feel like HH!Arthur would try to be the gentleman to show her a sweet, gentle time, but wouldn’t have the stamina for missionary, so his partner would pick up where he leaves off by riding him like the work horse he is. I just thin the scenario would be perfect for like sexy words of encouragement (def NOT thinking of his mare voice lines *wink wink wink*) plus Arthur getting taken care of too instead of just doing the caring. I have like 0 writing skills tho lol so if you ever found yourself in need of smutty I soo I would feel HONORED for you to bring my nasty Arthur thoughts to life

Ooh, TB whumpy smut… I’m sensing a pattern here. My poor boah, how I love to torture him…

This was a good one! Still working on a few more. I love and thrive on feedback so drop me a line if you liked it.

Regret Me Not

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Regrets seem to take up much of his headspace these days... But for one regret of his, Arthur takes action with a little bit of urging on your part.

Arthur wheezes, covering his mouth with the back of his palm, the wet, hacking noise that scrapes out of his throat as he sits on the boulder south of Beaver Hollow, out of earshot of the camp. 

Not that he needed people’s stares. He looks terrible enough that he gets looks of pity from the women, avoided by the men - and Dutch? Well, he is living in another reality.

Another cough rips through him, as he feels as if he were drowning within his own body. A small hand lands on his back. He looks up, rubbing his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

You stand over his shoulder, rubbing gently, concern alight in your eyes. You look down and dig into the pockets of your skirts.

“Here.” You say with a small smile, handing him a bottle of tonic.

He coughs again, butchering his thanks, as he takes the bottle from your hands, uncorking it quickly and downing the foul-tasting liquid quickly.

“How are you feeling?” You ask quietly, hand still resting on his shoulder, slowly, gently rubbing circles into his upper back.

Arthur wants to lean wholly into your touch. He wants to wrap himself into you and let you card your fingers through his hair. He wants to rest. He wants to sleep.

He wants, he wants - but alas. None of that was possible.

“Like hell.” He grits out hoarsely, tossing the empty bottle to the dirt at his feet.

“I’m sorry, Arthur.” You say softly. Your other hand moves to his back as well, rubbing at his other shoulder.

“ ‘S alright.” He murmurs, not wanting to let on how good your hands feel on him.

A silence settles in, and you rub at his shoulders for a few moments more before drawing your hands away from him.

“Well… I just wanted to check on you. See how you’re doin’. I’ll see you later, Arthur.” You say, and he can hear the crunch of gravel under your boot as you turn on your heel. You begin to walk up the path back toward camp, as he turns and follows you with his gaze over his shoulder.

Arthur wants. In the embracing of his mortality, the facade of propriety and the painstakingly built walls around his heart crumble in the face of his own death.

He has watched you for months. Yearned for months, wanted and needed your attention, always too self-conscious to reach out and touch.

Sister Calderon’s words echo in his ears with each step you take away from him.

“Take a chance that love exists.”

“D-do you wanna get outta here?”

His voice is hoarse, almost weak sounding. Nothing of the man that he used to be.

You stop, turning around, a small smile creeping across your face. “God, get outta this hell hole? Absolutely. Anywhere is better than these hills.”

His heart hopes.

“I gotta go grab some mail from Van Horn. Ain't much better though…”

“It ain’t here, Mister Morgan. Let’s go.”

—

Van Horn is just as decrepit as the last time he was here. Falling apart and full of the dregs of society, left behind by the churning wheel of progress. He mirthfully counts himself as one of them, he supposes.

He tucks the letters he retrieved into his satchel, moseying slowly toward the back of the dock, where you stand with your elbows on the railing, gazing at the river’s lazy waters. Northward, toward the mountains and the river’s origins.

“Y’ready there, ma’am?”

You look back at him but don’t move. “Already? Ugh. Camp’s just so…”

Arthur sidles up next to you, placing his own elbows on the railing, grunting in agreement. You didn’t need to go any further, he knew where you were going with your comment.

The camp was… well, a gloom has settled upon it. Dutch acting irrational, angry. The loss of Hosea and Lenny. Running from Pinkertons.

And his own impending demise, of course.

“What’re you gonna do after?” Arthur asks quietly and notices the stuttering breath you take as your shoulders drop a little.

“I… I don’t know. I don’t have much else than this.”

Arthur hangs his head, taking in a deep breath. A breath that seems to barely fill his ailing lungs, and he coughs slightly under the rim of his hat.

“Y’got a good head on you. You’ll do fine.” He grits out, voice hoarse.

You remain silent, your eyes set on the water of the slow-flowing river. A boat chugs southbound, heading toward Saint Denis.

“I don’t know how I’ll fare being alone.” You softly murmur.

He sighs. “I’m sure you can stay with Abigail or Missus Adler. Or Charles. You got people to watch out for you.”

“But not you.”

A pang, a sharp pain shoots through his chest, above and beyond the near-constant constriction of his lungs.

“No. Not me.”

You look up at him, a sheen of wetness over your eyes. It pains him as he looks back.

A tear rolls down your face and it’s everything he is not to lean over and cup your face in his hands and wipe your tears away.

“Sweetheart, you deserve-”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me what I deserve, Arthur Morgan.” You spit out, tears openly running down your cheeks.

Arthur sighs, looking back down at the water. It is murky, muddy, dirty right under the dock. Just like this damn town.

You push yourself into his surprised embrace, clutching at his shirt, and it takes him a moment to realize that this wasn’t a dream, and he winds his arms around you, pulling you against him.

“I wish you would stop hiding from me.” You whisper as he holds you to his chest, your cheek pressed against his breastbone, probably hearing the crackling failure of his lungs with each breath he takes.

He doesn’t know how to answer that. For years now, it’s been easier for him to keep that urn with the remains of his heart buried from all.

“I’m here… I’m here now.” He murmurs, resting his chin atop your head.

“I’ve been waitin’ for you, Arthur. Waitin’ and wishing for you to ask me to be yours.” You bury yourself in his embrace.

Fuck.

Arthur’s resolve cracks like a piece of porcelain.

“I’m just a fool. A fool for making you wait.”

You shudder against him, digging your fingers into his shirt, and your breath stutters as you try to stifle a sob. Pulling away, you look up at him, his bloodshot, sunken eyes, still the blue-green pools you would drown in.

You lean up on your toes, arms winding around his neck, but he turns his face away as you draw closer. 

“No. I ain’t gettin’ you sick too.”

You frown, glassy-eyed, about to draw your arms from him before he leans down and presses his lips to your cheek, again and again, moving up toward your ear.

“But…. I’ll give you whatever else it is you want.” He rumbles, arms wound tight around you, his body arcing over yours.

You shiver in his embrace, pulling your head back ever so slightly to look him in the eye.

“I want whatever you’re willing to give me.” You whisper, hands moving up and clutching at his collar.

He leans his forehead against yours. “If you want a dying, washed-up gunsling-”

You interrupt, pressing up on your toes and kissing his cheek, “I want you, Arthur Morgan. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

So long.

So long.

Goddamnit. He’s been looking at you, yearning for you, for months. Before Blackwater and ferries and being chased by Pinkertons. Before Dutch became erratic, before all of these complications. When he was chasing tumbleweeds across the wild and open west.

He gives a shuddering sigh, and draws you closer, pulling you to him and placing his lips on the long line of your neck. You whimper as he pulls a bit of your pale skin between his teeth, suckling on it, hoping to leave a mark.

You throw your arms completely around his shoulders and begin to pant in his ear. Whimpers turn to whines as one of his large hands moves down from your waist to clench roughly at your rear, drawing you against his pelvis and his rapidly hardening cock.

“A-Arthur - please -” You moan, rubbing yourself against him, and he regretfully draws his mouth away from your skin, pink-tinged and wet from his attentions.

As much as he’d love to turn you around, throw up your skirts, and press himself into you for the sake of time, he knows you deserve more than that.

“Lemme get a room.” He pants, letting go of you, moving to adjust himself in his trousers. “Go on upstairs.”

You pull at the collar of your blouse to hide the evidence of your indiscretion and quietly nod, moving past him and slowly climbing the rickety stairs to the second story of the decrepit building. 

He quickly pays for a room, and grabs the key from the clerk with a dismissive grunt, hurrying his way up the stairs to find you leaning against the second-story railing, waiting for him. 

Arthur jams the key into the door’s lock, pushing it open, and lumbering into the room, where he immediately sheds the repeater strapped to his back and places it on the worn table next to the door. His gunbelt follows as you step inside, closing and locking the door behind you. 

He places his hat atop the pile of guns on the table, looking back at you.

“Still want to do-”

You cut him off by closing the distance between you and throwing your arms around his waist.

He pulls you toward the bed, and places his hands on your waist, holding you still, as he sits on the bed, the worn frame creaking under his weight. He doesn’t spare it a second thought, eyes trained on you, and he gently pulls you to sit in his lap.

You cup his cheek gently, thumb tracing along his beard that he’s kept longer to hide the gauntness of his cheeks. His large hand lands on your thigh, squeezing it as he presses his face into the hollow of your neck.

You gasp as you feel his tongue on your skin, clutching at his shirt as you tilt your head back.

You shiver again as his hand creeps up under your skirt, finger gently rubbing against the seam of your bloomers, which dampens quickly under his ministrations.

“It's been a while,” He grunts out, unable to stop his hips from bucking up against your legs with you seated in his lap, the long line of him chasing your warmth.

“M-me too. Ain’t since-” you mewl into his ear as his fingers push your bloomers to the side and brush against the damp skin of your core, “some stable boy when I was sixteen- ahh - we - we didn’t know what we was doin’.” You gasp out as his pointer finger, thick and strong, dips inside your entrance, sheathing to the knuckle within your cunt.

He slides another finger inside you, groaning against your hair when he realizes how tight you are, clutching desperately at his digits, imagining how good you would feel surrounding his cock.

“I’ll be good to you,” He grits out, crooking his fingers within you.

“Oh-” You gasp, “I know, I know you will, Arthur.”

Arthur pulls you from his lap and lays you on the bed next to him, and immediately starts to shed his clothing, tossing it into piles on the floor as you join him, skirts and shirts thrown from the bed, a union suit and chemise - your bloomers land on the floor and he quickly climbs atop you, spreading your legs and fitting his hips in the cradle of yours.

In this old, dirty bed in this old, dirty room, he swears he has never seen something so beautiful as you sprawled out beneath him, the rise and fall of your breathing, the blush crawling down your cheeks to your neck, spreading out across your chest, to your pink nipples, pebbling as they are exposed to the cool air.

He leans down, balancing himself on his forearms, finding that spot on your neck again and nibbling at it, while one of his hands works its way to the space between you, grasping his hard cock and stroking it as he presses the swollen head against your core.

You mewl as he presses in, the head of his cock entering you, his hand moving from its base to frame your head again.

“God, you’re perfect.” He groans as he starts to press himself inside, inch by inch disappearing into your wet warmth, your panting high and fast in his ear as he suckles on your neck once again.

He thrusts, gently, and his hips press against yours as he’s buried himself to the hilt in your cunt. You mewl out a high whine, nails digging into his shoulder.

Arthur presses himself up slightly, looking down upon you. His fingers begin playing with the curling hairs at your temple, waiting for you to open your eyes, a sign that you’re used to his length and girth within you.

And when you do, he’s stricken. Your eyes flutter open and you inhale a breath with a sweet sigh. God, for once in his damn life, he’s doing something right.

Your arms wind around his neck as you press your lips to his cheek, he knows that you want to taste him, to mold your lips together and moan into each other’s mouths - he wants that too, but it’s a step too far. He’s already half afraid of spreading his sickness to you.

Arthur thrusts, gently still, but faster and harder than he had been, you squeal in delight, which spurs him into finding a rhythm, his body moving over yours.

He grunts, panting as he moves his hips, fucking into you and pressing you down into this old, uncomfortable mattress. He swears he’ll bring you to some nice hotel in Saint Denis and make love to you on a plush expensive mattress-

A constriction in his chest stops him mid-thrust.

He pants, wheezing, his hips slowing as he struggles to catch his breath. Christ, what a sorry excuse for a man he is - can’t even please a woman in the state he’s in.

You gently push on his shoulder, and he has the stamina, at least, to raise himself up and look upon you, cheeks blazing in shame.

“Here, maybe I should get on top?” You ask, your hand cupping his cheek while the other gently lays upon his chest.

He groans at the thought, his traitorous cock twitching as he’s buried in your cunt, causing you to gasp out. 

“Alrigh’,” Arthur grunts, and steadies his knees while he pulls his hands to you: one beneath your lower back, one below your shoulder blades. In a jumble of limbs and skin, he rolls over, somehow keeping himself sheathed in you until you’re splayed atop him, your small hips spread out over his.

He has to admit, this was a good idea you had, even before you think to move, what a sight he’s given. His cock fully enveloped in your hips, the dark thatch of hair between your thighs mixing with the curls at his base. Up, up the curves of your waist, he trails his hands, gently skimming your sweat-slicked skin. Your breasts, small yet perky, he’s enraptured by the way your nipples pebble as he rubs his thumbs over them, the sweet sigh that leaves your lips as your head falls back.

God almighty, you’re the sweetest thing alive.

Your hands find purchase on his chest, fingers pulsing, as you roll your hips once over him. His breath stutters, eyes widening as inches of him leave you, only to gently return moments later.

“G-good?” You ask, a self-conscious fear in your eyes.

His hands clamp on your waist and help to guide your movement.

“So good, you’re so good.” He rasps, the end of his lips curling up into a smile.

You smile back, rolling your hips again, taking him and out, following the pathway to your own pleasure and dragging him along for the ride. 

Your murmuring devolves into gasping moans as you continue to gyrate above him, squeezing your eyes shut, your fingers spread wide over his pectorals.

“That’s it. You’re alright, girl.” He urges, one hand moving from your hip to where you’re joined, his thumb parting your folds just above where he’s speared into you.

You moan aloud, giving no qualm to volume as he circles and presses against that little nub of pleasure.

“C’mon, sweetheart, you’re almost there.” He whispers as his hips jut upward into yours, he can see the far-off look in your eyes, the way your lips hang open, the shortness of your breath, and the slightly painful way your fingers are clenching into his chest. He can tell, your pulsing, squeezing, sweet little cunt is so close.

You ride him fast, like a horse at a gallop, and that blooming lava in his gut churns in a way that he knows he’s not far behind.

“A-Ar…” You stutter as your eyes close tightly.

“That’s it, that’s it, Darlin’.” He urges, his other hand tight on your hips, aiding your movement.

“Agh, oh god - Arthur.” You moan out, bottoming out completely as you throw your head back. He groans aloud as he feels your muscles constrict around his shaft, the sweet clutch of your cunt.

He thrusts his hips upward again and is rewarded with the sweetest mewl from your mouth, he cannot help but to whimper as he feels warm, wet slick start to seep from where you’re joined, his swollen and heavy balls covered in them.

You recover, gasping as your hands move to his chest, your hips grinding down on him slowly.

“I wanna-” you pant, catching your breath, “I wanna make you come.”

Arthur groans in response, hips bucking upward as his hands fly to your hips again, clenching them hard.

“Ain’t gonna- augh- ain’t gonna be hard to give you that.” He stutters out, knowing that the pull in his gut is getting stronger with each sweet movement you make.

“You’re so good -” You mewl, rolling your hips over him as he grunts, hands sure on your waist, fingers pulsing as his eyes flutter closed, his mouth hanging open as he approaches that precipice.

“You feel just like I’ve always dreamed.” You sigh, and all he can respond with is a thrust upward of his hips, to give you more, to give you himself, all that’s left of him.

He’s there, he’s there. His eyes shoot wide and he grunts, hands hard over your hips. “Get- you gotta, move.”

But you lean forward, not stopping the gentle roll of your body over his, and kiss his forehead.

“Come inside me.” You breathe, hands steady over his beating heart, “Give me all of you.”

Of all the stupid, childish things… but the resolve of a dying man, it is far less strong than before - weakening much like his ailing lungs.

“Please.” 

He does, he does.

He grunts needily as he pumps his release into you. Staying sheathed in your warmth, not jerking himself into cold air.

Arthur sits up immediately, burying his head into the side of your neck, and suckles gently at the skin there as your fingers start to play with the wisps of hair at the nape of his neck.

He regrets, it’s all he has left, that again, he wasted his time, glancing shyly at you across the fire for all those months. All he can do is offer you a few fleeting moments of pleasure. He regrets, it’s all he has left, that he cannot taste your lips and the sweetness he knows lies beyond them.

“Darlin’-” he trails off into your skin, trying to compose himself.

I’m sorry- I’m sorry this is all that’s left of me - sorry I can’t give you nothin’ but -

You place your lips on his forehead gently before pulling back. You cup his cheeks in your hands and nod your head.

“Let’s not waste any more time.”

[mouschiwrites]

hi there doodlebug:) may i please have eyeless jack x reader where someone hurts the reader intentionally like hits them or if you arent comfy writing that then just says something mean (can be another creepypasta character or some random person) and the reader gets really upset and jack comforts the reader but also gets pissed and confronts the person who hurt them and is all protective and threatening? 🩵 thank you sm, pumpkin!!! i hope you're having the best day 🥰

Absolutely, you sweetheart you!!

TW for some violence,, EJ goes a wee bit crazy teehee

Word count: 667

Creepypasta - Eyeless Jack When You Get Hurt

Midnight had long since come and passed. Most people were sleeping soundly in their soft beds, blankets pulled up to their chins in defense from the nipping cold. But not you, not tonight.

You were out with Jack. Late nights that turned into early mornings were the only times he’d agree to come into town with you, since the streets were mostly empty.

On this particular night you had gone out for a walk in the park, trying to catch the last glimpses of green before the dull gray of winter leeched all color from the trees and shrubs. It was cold, but you clung close together, keeping each other warm. Well, it was mostly Jack keeping you warm; he didn’t seem to get cold. Ever. One of the benefits of being a demon, you supposed.

Now you were on the subway, heading home at last. You leaned sleepily against Jack, your eyelids drooping as you fought to stay conscious.

You decided to stand up to keep yourself awake. Reaching up for the overhead bar, you wrapped your fingers around the chilly metal, focusing on the sensation of the cold to distract yourself from sleep.

The train stopped. Jack pulled at his hood when a man got on. You weren’t alone anymore. You shot him a reassuring glance, smiling a little.

You were startled by the train’s sudden motion. You stumbled sideways, slamming into the man who had just boarded on your way to the ground.

“Hey!” He snapped.

You didn’t even get the chance to apologize before he kicked you, knocking you off your knees.

“Watch it, brat!” He spat. He stormed to the far end of the car, muttering angrily to himself all the way.

Jack was at your side in a second. He lifted you in his arms and onto a seat.

His thumb brushed away the tears trickling down your face. They were from the pain of being kicked as much as the humiliation of the insult. You looked down, holding his wrist to comfort yourself.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, but the tears kept falling.

Jack wrapped you in a hug. He stroked your back gently, letting your tears be sopped up by the fabric of his hoodie. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

You shook your head. “Not your fault,” you rasped, voice breaking.

Your stop was coming up. The train screeched to a halt, and Jack fixed you on his back. You noticed the man following you as you stepped out, but he went in the other direction. You just buried your face in Jack’s hoodie.

Jack lowered you onto your bed, tucking your blankets up to your chin. He placed a kiss on your forehead, smiling when you stirred a little. You’d fallen asleep sometime between the train station and your home. No matter. Maybe this was better, actually. It gave him the chance to slip away into the night.

He glanced once more at your sleeping form before dropping from the windowsill, anger swelling in his chest as he ran.

“Please,” the man begged. He was doubled over on the floor, speaking between panicked sobs and wretches. “Please don’t kill me.”

Jack stared emotionlessly at the pathetic human at his feet. He turned the scalpel in his hand idly.

“It doesn’t feel very good to be kicked, does it?”

The man clearly didn’t get the hint. “No, no, no, it doesn’t, it doesn’t,” he wailed.

Jack crouched down. He grabbed the man’s face, turning it up roughly. “Do you know why I’m doing this? Think.”

He tried to shake his head. Jack held tighter, his claws drawing beads of blood from the man’s cheeks.

Jack sighed impatiently. “This is why I don’t work with conscious victims,” he grumbled to himself.

Then, more clearly, he said:

“Revenge, you toad, comes with interest.”

The screams that usually would’ve made Jack flinch only made him grin as he extracted his next meal.

When the screams had ceased, and there was nothing but a bleeding body on the ground, Jack stood, poking the lame form with his toe.

“That’s for messing with Y/n. Brat.”

Thank you for this request! And thanks for reading, take care loves <33

(divider by saradika)

[chouxsardine]

Permission to Fall -- Jake Kiszka x reader

Summary: "Don't be afraid of falling, because he will catch you everytime" --Where things became too much at your company's Christmas party and Jake comes to the rescue as the most thoughtful boyfriend that he is.

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Word Count: 3211

Warnings: descriptions of a panic attack, feet (nothing gross or super detailed), a drop of superstition (let me know if I've missed any)

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort

Author's note: This is originally an idea inspired by @jakesguitarsolo and written for her. I hope you feel better now, dear. One idea spins into me pulling an all nighter...And here it is. This also goes to whoever feels stressed around this time of the year. Yes, things are tough, but you are stronger. I am so proud of you. If you want to talk, feel free to send me an ask or message. This is my first gvf fic and my first time writing anything for threes years. I really enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoy reading it too.

🎧: I am listening to I Need You Most of All by Stephen Sanchez while writing this (you can tell the title is taken from the lyrics)

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

Suddenly everything is too much.

But you know damn well that it doesn’t just happen “suddenly”. In fact, shit has been building up for days, or even weeks. You don’t know if it’s the end-of-year frenzy getting into everyone’s head, Mercury is in retrograde, or the depleted Vitamin D levels due to shortened daylight, you’ve had it particularly rough recently, from small inconveniences like your favourite snack being out of stock at the local grocery store for three consecutive weeks to mishaps like you taking the blame for your impotent coworker. You are exhausted, to say the least; you couldn’t wait for the holidays. Not entirely for its cheer, but for the few precious days off. You just need a break from everything.

Now you are stuck in your company’s holiday party. The annual event that you dreaded the most. It involves too many fake smiles, false-hearted small talk, and tooth-rotting-sweet cupcakes that clearly have too much food colouring. All the mental preparing goes south as you stand in the room, the stabbing pain from your high-heels growing more and more unbearable by the second. Too many people.

“Just another thirty minutes, you can do it. Just another thirty minutes”. You hopelessly glance at the clock on the wall, flashbacking to your childhood self squirming in the seats waiting for math class to end.

But of course, something has to make matters worse. The real straw that breaks the camel’s back is your clumsy coworker accidentally bumping into you and spilling her drink on your shoes.

“Oh my god, I am so so sorry, y/n!” She hastily apologizes in a high-pitched squeal. A few people turn their heads toward your direction.

“No, no, it’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Embarrassment. Embarrassment. Panic. Trouble. You try to wave her off. The shoes aren’t even your top concerns right now; you just want her to stop talking and stop attracting more unwanted attention.

“Really? Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to! It’s just—”

“Please.” You take the handful of tissues from her, look her in the eyes, almost pleading, “It’s fine. Please excuse me, I’ll just go to the washroom real quick.”

Once the washroom door is closed behind you, you feel like collapsing right there on the floor. You wobble your way to the sink, arms propped up on the cold marble surface. You don’t dare to look at yourself in the mirror. Your ears are buzzing and the twisted feeling in your lungs tightens. As if a cold hand is wringing a wet towel inside your stomach, as if someone is shoving your head into cold water, you can't breath properly. You try to draw a breath, but end up sounding like a stranded whale. Before it develops into a full-blown panic attack that you can’t handle, you managed to muster the last bit of your sanity and dial that number with trembling fingers.

Jake picks up on the second ring.

“Hi, love. What’s up? ”

Upon hearing his voice, your tears break free. You are sobbing so hard that you have to bite down on your knuckles to keep the volume down. God forbid any busybody out there overhearing sobbing coming out of the washroom. “Ja—Jake—-”You struggled to form a coherent syllable.

“What’s wrong, y/n? Are you hurt?” His voice immediately grows sterner, stripped of of the previous languidness.

To talk under this state feels like squeezing words out of your veins. “Ca—can—you..come p—pick me up? Company—p-party.” You stutter through gritted teeth.

There is some shuffled noise over the phone, a loud bang sounding like he had bumped into something, a silent “fuck” under his breath, then his voice reaches your ears again: “Coming right now, baby, take a deep breath for me.”

You hear the faint beeping of car keys. More shuffled noise. More beeping. That means he has started the car, right? That means he will be here soon, right? You mind is racing and spinning and your lungs are still acting up, only allow silvers of oxygen into your body. You feel like you are watching the world through a distorted filter. A scarier thought jumps into your brain: you whiny puny thing, continue crying and your panic will affect Jake. The roads are slippery now, and it will be all your fault if he ends up in a car accident.

As if being slapped in the face, you manage to suck in a deep breath like a scuba diver resurfacing to the water: “Drive safe please, please Jake, please—I will wait for you.”

Jake makes a sound that is somewhat between a relieved laugh and a resigned sigh. He knows instantly what’s going on in your overthinking brain; you are worried about him. The thoughtfulness must be engraved in y/n’s brain, he thought, always, always putting others in front of herself, even when she’s having a panic attack. And Jake knows you are correct. It is only upon hearing your words that he realizes how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. He recomposes himself, relaxing his shoulder, “Don’t you worry about me, love. I will stay on the phone if that makes you feel better, yeah? Ain’t nothing gonna happen to me.”

“Knock on wood!” You hiss between sobbing, frantically searching for any wooden material around you. Damn it, why is everything so shiny and glassy?

Jake is amazed that he even lets out a short laugh under the circumstances. Yes, his heart aches hearing his girl being a mess over the phone, and he wishes he could grow wings and fly to her side. But meanwhile, he can't help but find you cute like this. He knocks three times on the mini wooden tissue box that he keeps in the middle console.

“Yes, knock on wood. You hear that, doll?”

“Hmm.” You would honestly believe anything now. Hearing Jake’s voice and imagining him coming to you is like brown noise for babies. Your lungs finally decide to have mercy on you, and you can now somehow draw in shallow breaths albeit the pain in your chest.

Jake is relieved as he sees the green lights shining at the last intersection before turning left onto the side road where your company is located. “I’m here. Can you come down by yourself, love? Or do you want me to get you?”

“I can come down.” You say. The thought of him finding you in a messy pile on the bathroom floor makes you wince, even though he’d probably seen worse.

“Okay baby, see you in a second.”

You don’t remember how you collected your coat and pushed your way through the crowded room without many people noticing. The next moment, your sensations are restored, and you find yourself already in Jake’s arms. He's waiting for you in the area between the automatic glass door and the revolving door outside, a place that is warm with air conditioning but won’t attract nosy people. He wraps you in a hug with his wool jacket. His comforting scent fills your nostrils, a powerful pacifier for your naughty lungs. For the first time this evening, you can finally breathe properly like a normal human being. The rush of fresh air makes you release a loud sob like a newborn baby. The relief of seeing him safely standing in front of you and the release of finally being free from the stressful and stuffy environment ushers more tears to stream down your face.

“Shhhh…..you’re okay now, y/n, safe now. I’m here.” His hand wraps protectively around the back of your head as he plants kisses into your hair. “Poor girl, let’s get to the car and go home.”

Home. Home sounds heavenly to your right now. You couldn’t think of a better combination of these four letters in the whole of human history.

On the way back, you curl into a ball on the passenger seat like a battered puppy. Jake holds your hand whenever he gets the chance, his strong calloused fingers gently massaging yours, tracing the patterns on your palm, his thumb brushing the back of your hand, providing warmth. No longer crying, your shoulders occasionally shudder with involuntary sobs that escape you. But other than that, you are falling into a trance. Your gaze concentrated on Jake’s perfect side profile through hooded eyes, watching in awe as the passing streetlights formed patterns of shadow on his graceful nose and cheeks; your mind numb without a single thought.

It is only when Jake wakes you up that you realize you have fallen asleep. The car is already parked in the garage, the familiar and comforting damp smell seeping in.

“We are home now, sleepyhead.” Jake smiles at you, tapping on your wrist to signal you to wait as he gets out of the car and opens your side of the door. Just as you were about to step off, Jake reaches to cradle you by the shoulders and knees, carrying you bridle-style into the house. You hide your face shyly in the crook of his neck, secretly grateful because your feet are indeed sore in those heels.

Jake puts you down by the shoe rack, motioning you to put your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as he squats down in front you, holding your ankles and taking off your shoes. If he did see the stains, he didn’t ask any questions, only cooed when he saw the blisters on your heels.

“Let’s go upstairs and get your makeup off, then we’ll cuddle and go to bed, yeah?” Jake stands up, hanging up your coat before cupping your cheeks and placing a kiss on your forehead.

You never hated makeup more than now, regretting to put it on in the first place, now that it has become the annoying barrier lying in your way to bedtime. But Jake says “let’s,” that means he’s going to do it together with you, right?

“Jake?” You whine bashfully.

“Yes, love?”

You tilt up your chin and close your eyes, “One more kissy, please?”

Jake swears he feels a part of his heart melt right there. Who is he to deny you?

“Of course, as many as my princess would like.”

Stepping into the bathroom, Jake sits you on the closed toilet seat. He opens the drawer, grabs your makeup remover and some cotton pads. He applies some liquid onto the wipes and lifts up your chin.

“Close your eyes for me, love.” The cool liquid on your eyelids makes your eyebrows twitch, causing Jake to chuckle, “I know, I know. Just a little longer.”

You sit quietly, mesmerized and hypnotized under his touch. His movements are almost rhythmic. Is this how cats feel when their owners scratches behind their ears? You fear that if you make a sound, you will actually let out a purr.

Jake continues until most of your makeup is gone. “Hold out your hands,” you hear him say and complied. Two dollops of foamy liquid landed in the centre of your palm, and you opened your eyes to recognize they are your face wash. Jake tugs on your wrist, leading you to stand in front of the sink.

“Can you wash your pretty face now, darling? Wash up, and I’ll be back in a minute.”

You nodded, feeling lighter and more relaxed now without your makeup and even more content when you turn on the tap and find out that Jake has already tuned it to a lukewarm temperature for you.

When Jake returned, he was calling you from the bedroom. You have already brushed your teeth and let down your hair.

You walked into the bedroom and are welcomed by the scent of bergamot and sandalwood from your favourite candle glowing on the night stand. Jake was pulling an old T-shirt out from the closet. It was the vintage Joan Jett and The Blackhearts shirt, the patterns half faded, and materials worn-out soft. You saw him laying out one of his boxers for you too. He knows you always prefer them to your own underwear as pyjamas.

“Come sit, angel.” He patted the bench at the foot of the bed, him sitting across from it on a small stool.

It is only when you walked close that you saw the wooden foot spa basin, with clouds of steam rising from it. As you sat down, he gently took your ankle and balanced your feet on the edge of the basin, so that the hot water is steaming your sole.

“It’s still a bit hot.” He looks up to you. “I put Epsom salt and eucalyptus oil in it.”

“Where did you get this?” You feel like the heat from the bottom of the feet is slowly being absorbed into your veins and rising up to your cheeks. You wiggle your toes nervously.

Jake lets out a giggle, “Well, mum suggested once to Josh about the foot spa thing, said it helps with stress and tense muscles. You know, with him running barefoot on stage and all.” He reaches down to sprinkle some water onto your feet, letting you adjust to the temperature. “But Josh got the fancy electric ones. I thought this is better. More authentic, don’t you think?”

“Uh-hmm.”

“Your nails are all chipped,” Jake looks down, “maybe tomorrow we can repaint them? I saw you bought a new colour the other day.”

Tender. So tender. From his tone to his caramel brown eyes. The light from the lamp illuminates the left side of his face, giving it a solemn, smooth glow like a wax statue. Your heart swells; love makes it rise like Soufflé in the oven. The soft surface rises up until it touches your ribcage, threatening to spill those tears again.

“Thank you, Jake.” You dare not raise your voice, fearing that it will break, “I just got a bit overwhelmed at the party, is all.”

Jake eases your feet slowly into the water now that it’s the perfect temperature. The slight sling of your blisters is soon overwhelmed by the all-encompassing warmth that rises all the way to your ankle.

After a few heart beats, he speaks again. “You’ll always have me, y/n. You are allowed to fall, to break. I will be here to catch you, to piece you together. Whatever you need.”

Finally you were snuggled together in bed. You, a human koala, cling to Jake with your face pressed against his chest. His arm snakes around your shoulder, fingers mindlessly tracing your collarbone, strumming some unknown patterns. His heartbeat thumping in your ear, the perfect lullaby. The steady rise and fall of his chest is like waves, rocking you into a sweet slumber. Your eyelids feel heavy like velvet drapes. There’s still a stubborn voice in your brain keeping you from falling asleep. There’s still one more thing you need to do, even though you understood each other perfectly.

“Jake?” Your voice low like a murmur. Jake almost didn’t hear you at first.

“What is it, babe?”

“I love you.” Those words come out as a slur, and like a magic spell, you fall into the deep embrace of sleep as soon as the last syllable leaves your lips. Now clear of any stress and worries in the arms of your lover, the strained string in you brain that has been holding on for dear life the whole evening finally snaps. You’re out like a light.

“I love you back, y/n, through and through.” He whispers into your dream.

You woke up to an empty bed, the sheet on his side still has the human-shaped imprint. Jake is a night owl; it is pretty common that he just gets up in the middle of the night and ends up doing some random things around the house. Most often it’s him strumming the guitar and experimenting with his ideas for new tunes in the home studio downstairs. But you have also caught him fixing chipped paint on the walls, repotting the succulents in the garage, and pouring broth into the crockpot with chicken thighs and smoked ham hock (“so we could have warm chicken chili in the morning!”; to be honest, it’s indeed delicious; you had two bowls and had to skip lunch that day). Just to name a few, so the possibilities are endless.

You get out of bed, creep cross the corridor and tiptoe your way down the stairs. The lights at the doorway are on; you thought Jake forgot to turn them off. However, as you approach, you see Jake squatting down next to the shoe rack, his back towards you, and a brush and some spray bottles laying nearby.

You move closer and see him holding the clothes steamer near your wine-stained shoes. The heels you wore have a suede tip in the front, and unfortunately, that’s where the wine was mostly spilt on. After a few moments, Jake uses the wire brush to clean the surface. He stops from time to time, holding it further to inspect the result.

You waited until he stops again to make some sounds, announcing your presence. Jake immediately turns around. His eyes softens upon seeing you.

“What are you doing up?”

You go to squat down next to him, kissing his temple before resting your head on his shoulder.

“You just bought these not so long ago, yeah? It’d be a shame to leave them stained.” Jake lets more steam soak into the fabric before brushing them again. “I’m almost done. I saw this trick online, and it looks pretty legit.” It’s only then that you noticed his phone on the side, the screen showing the replies from some Reddit post.

“Thank you, baby.” You rub your cheeks slightly on his T-shirt; the feeling of warm pastry once again fills your heart.

“No worries, doll. I think it’s good for now. Let’s leave them here and check in the morning.” Jake starts putting away his tools before pulling you up and wrapping his arm around your waist, leading you back upstairs.

On your way, something familiar catches your eye. You must’ve missed it earlier.

“Wait, where did you get that?” You stop, pointing at what happens to be a whole case of your favourite snack lying on the kitchen counter.

“Oh, I saw the stores are out of them, so I ordered them online. They just arrived today.” Jake scratches his head, his tone tainted with slight disappointment.“I thought they’d be a nice surprise as stocking stuffers, but…”

You stopped him mid-sentence with a kiss.

“I love you.” This time you said it clear against his lips.

“Oh doll, I love you back,” he smiles, showing the cutest wrinkle on his nose. His hands brush your shoulder as you resume your steps upstairs. “Let’s get a few more hours of sleep now. And when you wake up, you will wake up to some yummy pancakes and a pair of stain-free shoes, huh? How does that sound?”

Oh Lord, that sounds heavenly. That sounds just like home.

“I’d like that, Jake. I’d like that very, very much.”

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

Thank you for reading :) any comments and feedbacks are greatly welcomed and deeply appreciated

(The stain-removing tips comes from malccy72 on reddit :D

If you also feel like reading a smutty (but also fluffy?) piece🤭: Mariner's Complex || Love is a four-legged word || The Lucky Ones

or some Christmas fluff: Ticked (all my boxes)

[f9clementine]

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enchanted to meet you ⋙ 24. the amulet pt. 3

⋙ written part included 『••✎••』

Minho’s heart lurches, watching you dangle in San’s grasp, little cat eyes dazed and confused. He knew better than anyone that you were probably very lost, mind racing to catch up to the sudden shift to being a cat. His own transformation had been a blur, kicking his fight or flight instincts into high gear as he had booked it out the front door, leaving a shocked Innie behind. 

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” San declared, holding kitty you a little higher as he forced Minho’s attention back to him. “You’re gonna go get me the amulet and no tricks this time. Or else Y/n’s gonna stay a cat for a long, long time. Do you understand?”

Minho gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay calm. “Just give it up at this point, Choi. You don’t have the upperhand anymore. Let her go and you can just walk away.”

“You’re wrong, Lee. I can’t just walk away,” San sneered, giving you a tiny little shake as he continued to hold you aloft. “Not without that amulet. So, I suggest-” 

It seemed the sudden jolt San gave you snapped you out of your daze. With a sudden yowl, you swiped up, dragging your claws alongside the hand holding you up, drawing blood. San let out a hiss of pain, dropping you. Minho darted forward to try and grab you, but the second your paws hit the linoleum, you were gone, a little furry bullet out the door. 

Minho let out a curse, about to follow you out the door but first, he turned to San, who was cradling his bleeding hand and looked about to follow as well. 

Not gonna happen.

Without a second thought, Minho raised his fist, striking San directly in the face. He winced as his knuckles began to throb from the impact, but watching the taller man crumple to the floor without a sound was satisfying enough to make it worth it. When San didn’t move, Minho realized he hit him hard enough to knock him out. 

Even better.

“That's for kidnapping my girlfriend and turning her into a cat.” Min spat, even though he knew there was zero chance of getting a response, before turning on his heel and running out the door. 

He watched as you ran down the hallway before pursuing after you.

Minho ignored his phone's rapid beeping, focused on following you as you fled for your furry life. “Y/n, c’mon!” He called, watching you ignore him before adding ‘psspsspss’ sounds, which you also ignored. 

“I’m getting so sick of running through this school, Y/n,” He mumbled, turning the corner after you into a hallway ending in a door to the outside. 

You slid to a stop in front of it, your tail extremely fluffed up as you paced back and forth, kitty mind trying to figure out where to go.

Minho slowly approached you, holding his hand out as he kneeled down to your level. “Y/n… c’mon jagi, come here and we’ll get this fixed okay?” He spoke to you quietly, watching your ears twitch back and forth as he did. “You make such a pretty kitty but I’m sure you want to be human again, right?”

You took a tentative step forward, slinking low to the ground before taking another step. 

Minho let out a relieved sigh and fought the desire to lurch forward to grab you, knowing you’d be calmer if he let you come to him. “That’s it, that’s my girl. We’ll get you right as rain again, okay?”

You were finally within reach, little nose sniffing along Minho’s fingertips, taking another small step closer before your fur was suddenly standing on end, hissing at something over Minho’s head.

Before Min could react, he watched a hand suddenly reach into view, lifting you by the scruff again.

“Woah, Y/n’s a cat now? What did I miss?” Wooyoung asked, glancing from you to where Minho rose to his feet. 

“Give her back. God, I’m so sick of you guys kidnapping her, I swear to god.” Minho complained, reaching out to take you back but Wooyoung stepped back, pressing you to his chest as he looked around, frowning. You let out an annoyed sound, wriggling in his grip to no avail.

“Where’s San then?” 

“Somewhere knocked the fuck out. Hopefully with some brain damage.” Minho took another step forward, trying to keep his hands steady as he reached out to tug you back into his arms. “He probably needs help. So give me Y/n and I’ll tell you where I left your boyfriend.”

Wooyoung hesitated, glancing between you, who was still struggling in his arms, and Minho, weighing his options. “Okay, fine,” He said after a beat, holding you out to Minho. “Tell me where-”

Both men jumped as the door behind them suddenly burst open, a tall man in a dark coat striding in. 

Wooyoung gulped audibly, quickly pushing you into Minho’s arms before backing up further. “Seonghwa hyung, h-hey…” 

Minho glanced between Wooyoung and Seonghwa, deciding to keep his mouth shut and instead move out the way as Seonghwa kept advancing on Wooyoung, a furious look on his face. 

“Wooyoung, I am going to kill you.” Seonghwa growled, reaching out and grasping the younger man by his shirt, pulling him in close. “I am going to kill you and San both for all the shit I’ve been hearing. And then Hongjoong is going to kill you after I’m done.”

Wooyoung let out a nervous chuckle, holding his hands up in defense. “Hyung, it’s not that bad. A-and you know why we’re doing this-”

“You were told,” Seonghwa cut in, “to wait. We were working on a solution that wouldn’t involve grand theft and fucking kidnapping.” He looked up from Wooyoung, glancing at Minho before looking around. “Where is the poor girl that you’ve dragged into this?”

“Uhm, she’s here.” Minho answered, raising his arms where you sat content, seemingly enjoying watching Wooyoung get chewed out by his hyung.

“...That’s a cat.” Seonghwa deadpanned.

“Ah, yeah, it’s a long story but San turned her into-”

Seonghwa let out a loud curse, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Wonderful. And here I thought this couldn’t get any worse. Where’s San?”

“I-I was about to go get him,” Wooyoung explained, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder. “He’s apparently knocked out in a room somewhere. Minho was about to tell me where.”

“We’re going to get him and we’re going to go back. You’re going to leave the amulet behind. I don’t care.” Seonghwa gnashed, cutting off Wooyoung who looked like he was about to complain. “We’re leaving before-”

“Before the Enforcers get here?” Everyone turned their heads to see Hyunjin and Felix standing in the hallway, Hyunjin with a rather smug look on his face. “They’re already here, so…”

“San’s on his own. Let’s go.” Seonghwa grabbed Wooyoung by the back of his shirt this time, pulling him close.

“No, but-” Wooyoung sputtered, upset as he let the older man pull him. “I can’t leave him!”

“You can and we are. You and San knew what the risks were and you did it anyway. Maybe they’ll go easy on him but you and I are leaving.” Seonghwa glanced at Minho, letting out a little sigh. “I’m sorry for how the idiotic members of my coven have behaved. I hope you can get it all fixed.”

Seonghwa mumbled a few words as Wooyoung hung his head, dejected. A ball of light quickly rose from the ground, swirling around them and before Minho could blink, they were gone.

“Hyung, are you okay?” Hyunjin called out as he closed the distance between them, Felix trailing behind him.

“Yeah, we’re okay… mostly.” Minho sighed, readjusting you in his arms. “But Choi San is the world’s biggest asshole.”

“You’re kidding me!” Felix exclaimed, eyebrows raised high. “This day has been extremely fucked up.”

“I’ll say.” Minho shrugged, glancing between the two. “You still have the amulet, right? Let’s change her back quickly.”

Hyunjin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “About that… I don’t have the amulet.”

“What? Where is it? Who has it then?” Minho demanded.

“We gave it back to the Blackpink Coven.” Minho looked up to see Chan heading down the hallway, Jeongin leaning on him as exhaustion was evident on both their faces. 

“I…” Minho trailed off, lost for words as he looked at you in his arms. “Then how do we reverse this? Go back to square one with trying to figure out what spell it was?”

“C’mon, let’s meet up with the others.” Chan said instead, nodding his head towards the doors. He and Jeongin passed by Minho and after looking over his shoulder, Jeongin leaned in towards Min.

“Channie hyung has a plan. Just play along.” He whispered, taking a second to pat you on the head before heading through the doors.

Minho frowned, watching Hyunjin and Felix follow suit before trailing outside after. He followed them around the school, heading to the parking lot where he could see groups of people standing around. 

One group he recognized instantly as the Enforcers, the men standing around dressed all in pitch black, down to their sunglasses. He recognized the man sitting on the ground in between all of them, his arms cuffed behind his back as his face was beginning to swell from where Minho had struck him earlier. “They arrested San quickly.”

Hyunjin glanced over his shoulder at him, nodding. “It was crazy; they all ran in and there was so much yelling. Especially when they found San in that classroom.” he winced, remembering it. “It was… a lot.”

Minho nodded, pulling his attention away from the Enforcers and San, instead heading towards he could see Changbin and Jisung talking to a woman with long dark hair. “Who’s-” He started to ask but was interrupted by Chan.

“I can’t believe that someone would curse Y/n!” He declared loudly, everyone in the parking lot turning them as they approached. “That’s awful!”

“WHAT?” Changbin yelled, abandoning his conversation to run over, “What did he do to Y/n?!” 

You mewed pitifully in Minho’s arms, tail waving sadly.

“She can’t go to school if she’s a cat! What the hell?!” Changbin lamented, turning to glare at San where he sat, returning the stare until one of the Enforcers lifted him up by his arm, escorting him away.

“We’re unfortunately going to have to wait until the Enforcers can tell us what curse he used before we can change her back, too.” Chan sighed heavily, and Minho frowned, wondering why they were putting on such a show until the woman from earlier walked up, followed by Jisung. “Jennie, this is Y/n, the girl who’s roommate stole your amulet.” Chan said and Minho blinked, realizing who she was.

“I can’t believe the nerve of some covens, y’know?” Jennie rolled her eyes, a hand on her hip. “Theft, murder, kidnapping, and a transmutation curse? Like, when is enough, enough?” She bent down a little, looking you in the eye as she spoke. “Poor thing. I can’t imagine how scared she probably is.” She looked up at Minho, “And you’re the boyfriend, right? Chan explained how you found our amulet and instead of returning it, ran off to rescue your girlfriend.”

“I… uh, well…” Minho stuttered, wondering how to respond when she suddenly flashed him a grin.

“Love makes fools of us all, right?” Jennie reached into her pocket, pulling out the amulet. “I’ll do you a favor, so you don’t have to wait for the Enforcers to speak with Choi San. To be honest, I think you’d be waiting a long time for them to get the info for you. That man is severely cursed so that’s going to be their main concern.”

“San’s cursed?” Felix asked, glancing around the circle that had formed. 

“Oh, like I’ve never seen. That explains why he’d go to such lengths for the amulet,” Jennie shrugged, “I just can’t say with what exactly. But they’ll figure it out and then work out how exactly to sentence him. That’s out of our hands, though. But in the mean time, ready?” She held up the amulet and Min nodded, stepping forward.

He watched as Jennie whispered something to the amulet, the center of the stone lighting up before engulfing it completely. She lowered it, letting it dangle over your forehead before the light increased, so bright that everyone turned their heads and closed their eyes.

The weight in Minho’s arms suddenly increased and he grunted, surprised as he turned his attention back to you.

You blinked up at him, arms around his neck as you waited for the streaks of lightning to clear from your vision. You were both quiet for a minute before you let out a small smile, “Hi, Min.”

Minho almost fell to his knees in relief, instead clutching you tighter to him. “Hi, jagi.”

“Oh, damn.” Jennie exclaimed and both of you turned your attention back to her. “It cracked!” She held up the stone and you squinted, but you were able to make out a crack racing through the once smooth stone. “Wow, what kind of curse did Choi use to use that much energy? Or maybe it’s been going nonstop for a while?” She mumbled the last part to herself and you watched as the Skz coven exchanged worried glances before Chan let out a little laugh.

“I-I mean, they probably kept trying to break into Y/n’s apartment, so it was probably on a lot. But hey, let’s give Y/n some space. She’s probably crazy exhausted.” He put his hand on Jennie’s shoulder, gently steering her away as he continued to ramble.

“Thank god for Chan hyung’s charisma or else we’d probably would’ve been busted a long time ago.” Hyunjin mumbled and Jeongin nodded in agreement.

“It comes with the old age.” He snickered and Hyunjin joined in, the two drifting behind Chan and Jennie. 

Minho turned, leaving what was left of the group, still carrying you, and walked over to the building, sliding down the wall until he sat on the ground, groaning a little. “I need a nap.”

You giggled, sitting up and pulling away from him as you started to shuffle out of his arms, “You definitely earned-” You stopped as you felt his arms tighten around you. “You can let go of me, Min.”

He shook his head, letting his forehead rest on your shoulder. “Nope. Not gonna happen for a long time.”

“Oh yeah? How long is a long time?”

Minho shook his head again, turning to peek at you with one boba eye. “I was thinking forever, to be honest.”

You blinked, feeling your blood rush to your face as your cheeks burned. “I… that’s a long time.” You mumbled.

Minho nodded, reaching for your hand and threading his fingers through yours. “The longest… unless you don’t want that?”

You shook your head almost violently, “No, no, I-I do, I promise.” You gently squeezed his hand, entranced as Minho gave you a huge smile, his ears bright red through his hair.

“Good.” was all he said before leaning in, gently brushing his lips over yours. His lips were warm and soft, even though they were a little chapped from the day’s exertion, but felt so perfect over yours. You expected your heart to maybe stop, but instead you felt relaxed, like this was where you were meant to be.

Soon you both pulled away, noting his lips were a little swollen and his cheeks bright red. You couldn’t help the little giggle you let out, knowing you probably looked exactly the same. Min chuckled, ducking his head into the crook between your head and shoulder. You took your free hand, gently running it through his hair. 

You sighed, "I gotta say, I'm exhausted." You muttered, eyes fluttering shut.

"Getting kidnapped and turned into a cat will do that to you." Minho replied and you looked up to catch his gentle smirk.

"In that case, I definitely deserve to sleep in tomorrow."

You watched as Minho grimaced, the tips of his ears turning red. "About that..." He trailed off awkwardly and you sat up, tilting your head to catch his eye. "I kind of destroyed your room looking for the amulet. Your bed is in pieces and I pulled up the floor boards to find the amulet." He finished, shaking his head. "But I'll put it all back together as soon as we get ba-"

"It's fine." You interrupted, settling back against him with another sigh. "I'll just sleep in your bed tonight."

You felt him stiffen, his head turning to look at you. "W-what?"

You shrugged, unable to help smirking a little. "It wouldn't be the first time, after all."

Minho groaned quietly and you could practically feel the heat radiating off him as his blush deepened. "You're going to be the death of me, jagiya."

"So that's a yes then?"

You felt his hand tighten on your waist, before a soft kiss was placed to your forehead. "Whatever you want."

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THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR YOUR PATIENCE! I'm so sorry it's been so long for me to finish this chapter but I'm so excited to finally be able to post. There's just the epilogue which I've had planned since I first came up with this idea so that'll be easy peasy (and won't be another six months before it gets posted)

Tag list: @mal-lunar-28, @kpopsstuffs, @cassidymb121, @brooklynie, @owotalks, @honey-pop, @hanniemylovelyquokka, @chlodavids, @abbiestearsricochet, @maexc, @seungmyynie, @brinnalaine, @kalopsian-thoughts, @jiisungllvr, @asherthehimbo, @pinxeajin, @vampcharxter, @jluvselandabs, @bettybeako, @borahae-reads, @raehawthorne, @yongbbokkie, @skzhoes, @lauraliisa, @meloncremesoda, @cutiespaghetti, @beaann, @thesassy-mia, @sclassstay, @twobluegoldfish, @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad, @hyuneyeon, @hyunniethepooh, @thecararcticmonkeys, @sunnibearr, @miserablywasted, @feybin, @inniescandy-01, @autumn-lv, @mushrooms-moon, @mae-is-cute98, @bada-lee-ily, @amelee23, @caravm, @sunshinessky, @skz-streamer, @realrintaro, @urmomma0324, @redstayrosie, 

also I couldn't tag a lot of names on my list 😓 if you were on the tag list and changed your url, please let me know so I can update it!

[kayesfanfics]

The Vampires Handmaiden

Pairing: Hector x Fem! Reader

A/N: The ending is a bit rushed, but I wasn’t about to write out a whole episode lol. But Hector is absolutely my fav character and there isn’t nearly enough fanfic about him. Also AU where Hector DIDNT FALL IN LOVE WITH HIS ABUSER AND FELL FOR SOMEONE WHO ACTUALLY LOVED HIM.

Warnings: Abuse, blood, swearing/vulgar language, some Stockholm syndrome, Carmilla being mommy except in a toxic abusive way

You shivered in the freezing cold, following your mistresses down to greet your other mistress, Carmilla. You stood behind Striga and Lenore, keeping your head down and eyes on the ground, hoping not to draw any attention towards yourself. You listened as the sisters greeted each other and Carmilla complained and complained about the long journey she had, her soldiers marching past her into the castle. You noticed at the very end, a man with silver hair was being dragged along by a chain on his neck, his hands tied in front of him and his boots missing. He looked extremely battered and exhausted, and your stomach churned, knowing the feeling all too well. He made eye contact with you as he passed, until he was tugged harshly to continue following the soldiers down to the dungeons.

“Y/N, go warm some water for my bath. And make it a good one.” Carmilla ordered you. “It better be ready after I have a drink with my sisters.”

“Yes, mistress.” You bowed, before heading to collect frozen water to heat up for her bath. You carried the frozen buckets of water to the fireplace to warm them up, dripping Carmilla’s specific combination of essential oils into her bath. You lit candles as normal, and kept the water warm until she arrived, immediately stripping naked and getting in the tub. You kneeled down and began to scrub her aching feet, as she sighed contently in the warm water.

“Your Kind is so despicable, Y/N. I don’t know HOW you survived all those years without me.” Carmilla grumbled, still agitated from her long march in the freezing tundras.

“Me neither, mistress. Thank you for saving me.” You said without a thought, used to thanking her for kidnapping you and beating you into submission until you complied with her and her sisters’ every order. She often spoke about how lucky you were that she found you, and how you’d be dead in a ditch without her.

“Oh, get out. I need time alone. You’re dismissed for the night.” She waved her hand in your face, before sinking into the water. You bowed to her, before quickly leaving her to relax for the night. Sunrise would thankfully be soon, your time to roam as you wished and do as you pleased.

You thought about the poor man they had dragged in, how pathetic he looked, bags under his pretty blue eyes and cuts scattered across his face and hands. His feet were probably frozen numb, and you knew the guards probably stripped him of his clothing, along with his humanity. You found yourself wandering to the kitchen, grabbing bread and a fresh apple and stuffing them into your pockets. You walked down to the dungeons, giving the guard a few coins for his silence before looking around for the man. You finally spotted him in a cell, huddled in the corner and embracing himself. He was shivering, and you couldn’t tell if he was crying or not, but you wouldn’t blame him if he was. You approached his cell, kneeling down and taking out the food from your pockets.

“I brought you some food.” You spoke, and he slowly looked up at you. His face was strong, but his eyes were soft and filled with fear. He was trying to mask it and remain tough, but you could see right through that facade.

“Why would you do that? Don’t you work for them?” He asked, spatting the word ‘them’.

“I do. But only for fun.” You joked, holding the food out to him, reaching into his cell. He looked at the guard in worry, but eventually crawled towards you, taking the food and immediately digging in. “I’m sorry I couldn’t bring you clothing or a blanket. They would notice. My name is Y/N, what is yours?”

“Hector.” He said simply between bites, scarfing down the food like he hadn’t eaten in days, which, he probably hasn’t.

“Well, Hector, I also brought you this.” You duh into your pocket and grabbed a small bottle. “It’s an ointment, for your wounds. There is much disease in these cells.”

He carefully took the bottle from you, finishing his food quickly and leaning against the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest to hide his nude body from you.

“Why are you helping me?” He asked, looking down at the ground.

“Because I know what it’s like to be treated like this by them. I know how cruel and careless they are.” You admitted, sitting down fully.

“You do?” He looked up at you, gazing into your eyes.

“Yes. I’m a human, like you. They took me a couple of years ago, maybe longer. I’m now their lady-in-waiting.”

“How come they haven’t turned you, then? I thought they hated humans.”

“They do, which is why they don’t turn me. They want me to know I’m below them. Weaker than them.” You explained, fidgeting with the skirt of your dress. “They treated me like they do you. They broke me down years ago. Kept me around for their amusement, and so I could serve them and they don’t lift a finger. Why did they take you, Hector?”

“I’m a forgemaster. Carmilla wants me to make night creatures for her.” He sighed. “I should’ve run away when I had the chance. I can’t believe I trusted her.”

“Don’t blame yourself. They’re expert manipulators.”

“Y/N! WHERE ARE YOU, GIRL?” You jumped when you heard the booming voice of Striga, calling for you.

“I must leave. I will try to bring you more food tomorrow. Rotten meat with maggots isn’t exactly sustaining.”

“I quite like the maggots, actually. They add a nice crunch.” He smiled playfully, despite his situation. It made you smile back, at least until you heard your name being shouted again, and you bolted off so you wouldn’t get in trouble for speaking to the prisoner.

You continued to visit Hector while the vampiresses were asleep, providing him with fresh food and what comfort you brought him. You asked about his occupation as a forgemaster, curious as to why Carmilla needed one so bad. He often had fresh injuries when you visited, and you would reach through the bars of the cell to rub ointment into the ones he couldn’t reach on his back. One day, he wasn’t in his cell, and when you asked the guard (and gave him some coins), he told you he had been moved into the “luxurious cells”. You scoffed at that. A cage was still a cage, no matter how nice it looked. But you made your way to the other cells, ducking behind the wall when you saw Lenore standing at Hector’s cell. You peeked around it, watching her tug on a leash attached to Hector’s neck, forcing him forward, taking it off of him. You felt a pang of both jealousy and disgust when she called him a ‘good boy’, possession and venom dripping from her words. You hid again as she turned to leave, and once she was gone, you rushed over to his cell.

“Are you alright?” You asked, heart sinking when you saw a blush on his cheeks.

“I’m fine.”

“Hector, she’s tricking you. She doesn’t care about you.” You grabbed his cell bars, trying to make him listen. “Lenore is a-“

“Is a what?”

Your blood went cold when you heard her voice, right behind you. You shivered in fear, eyes wide and body frozen in terror as you felt her cold hand harshly grab your shoulder, her claws digging in and drawing blood.

“Lenore, don’t harm her.” Hector warned her.

“Or what? What exactly will you do?” She asked, before throwing you across the room with her superhuman strength, hitting the wall and falling to the floor.

“Lenore! She was helping me! Leave her be!” Hector grabbed the bars this time, now trying to make her listen to him.

“Helping you?” She laughed bitterly as she walked over to you, grabbing your hair to make you look up at her. “Well, Carmilla is not going to be pleased that her pet was playing with mine now, will she?”

“Mistress, please don’t-“

“I am not the one to beg mercy from, Y/N. You should know this by now.”

Hector yelled at Lenore and for you as Lenore dragged you away, up to Carmilla’s grand study, throwing you onto her table.

“Can I help you?” Carmilla asked Lenore, glaring down at you with disgust.

“It appears our pets have been getting friendly with each other. She’s been helping Hector this whole time.”

“Oh really?” Carmilla glowered down at you, grabbing your hair harshly and holding you up by it, lifting you off her table.

“M-Mistress, I’m sorry! Please, mercy!” You begged, clenching your jaw at the pain of being held off the floor by your hair. “I-I just wanted to help!”

“Well, my dear sweet Y/N, you helped the wrong person.” Carmilla bared her teeth. “I gave you free roam of the castle, I saved your life, and this is how you repay me?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, please!” You cried, feeling your scalp starting to bleed.

“I’ll leave you to it. I should probably discipline Hector as well.” Lenore said smugly, grinning at you before exiting her sisters study, leaving you alone with the merciless vampire.

Hours later, you stood beside Carmilla in the sister’s meeting room. She held a leash attached to your neck, the collar on too tight and dried blood coating your face and shoulders from the beating you endured from her. Your hands were folded politely in front of you, eyes fixed on the ground below as you didn’t dare move an inch from your mistress. They talked and bickered about their plan, various maps set out on the table with their wine glasses filled with blood. Carmilla had already drank from your neck, pure virgins blood remained her favorite to drain out of you until you went pale, but not enough to kill you. You didn’t move when you heard the door open behind you, but knew Hector was there when Carmilla complained about a man being in their quarters. You looked at him out of the corner of his eye, seeing he was confused and hurt by Lenore in some way you didn’t know yet. He looked at the collar tightened around your neck, guilt flashing in his eyes when he saw all the blood and bruises littering your face.

You listened in horror as Lenore boasted to her sisters about what she did to Hector, binding him to her through deceit and manipulation. You felt sick when she asked for a large bed in his room so she could “train him”, and silenced Hector when he tried to say something.

“Hm. Do you think you could make one for Y/N? She’s been disobedient, so I tethered her to myself to make sure she can’t do things behind my back anymore. But this ring would be so much easier, then I don’t have to keep her around me all the time.” Carmilla asked her sister, ignoring your look of horror you gave her at the idea.

“I’m already a step ahead of you, sister.” Lenore smiled, tossing her two rings for the both of you.

You fell to your knees, hands gripping Carmilla’s thighs, tears streaming down your face.

“Mistress, please! I’ll be good, I promise! Please don’t do this! I beg of you!” You pleaded, glossy eyes looking up at her with desperation.

“Oh, I love it when you do that, Y/N.” She smiled, one hand holding your chin. “But if you hadn’t betrayed me, I wouldn’t have to do this. Now would I? This is your fault, I’m only doing this because I have to, dear.”

You whimpered as she grabbed your wrist, shoving the ring onto your finger.

“Now, be a good girl and pledge your loyalty to me.” She said, running a hand through your hair, scrapping your sore and bloody scalp.

“I-I…I p-pledge my loyalty to y-you.” You cried out in pain as soon as those words left your mouth, feeling the magic piercing your skin and binding you to Carmilla. She pet your hair and shushed you, letting you cry into her lap as your body trembled pathetically.

“Good girl.” She smiled, before turning to Lenore. “You really are a genius, sister.”

“I know.” Lenore said cockily, before jumping off the table and grabbing Hectors arm, dragging him with her. His gaze lingered onto you, feeling as if it was his fault for this to be done to you as well. But you knew it was inevitable, Carmilla would’ve done this even if you hadn’t helped him, she liked the power over you too much.

“Now, darling, you are not to speak to Hector again. Do you understand me?” Carmilla asked you as you calmed down, sobs slowly dissolving into silent tears.

“Yes, mistress.” You said numbly, but sighed in relief when she took the collar that choked you off.

“Good. Now, off you go. Go clean yourself up, you look dreadful.”

You staggered out of the room, clutching your dress in your hands as you willed yourself to stop crying. Any freedom and humanity you had left was just stripped away, taken from you without a second thought or care in the world. You now felt empty and numb, the hopelessness overtaking your mind as you made your way to gather water for your own bath. You sank into the warm water, letting it comfort you like an embrace would, gently washing the blood out of your hair and off of your body. You wished you could wash the spell away, but no matter how hard you scrubbed, it wouldn’t leave you. You headed to bed soon after, curling into yourself and crying yourself to sleep.

The next few days went about as normal, Carmilla ordering you to do random chores and bring her glasses of blood, sometimes making you drain your own blood for her. You did as you were asked, it wasn’t like you had much of a choice. You were still allowed to roam as you wished in the daytime, but if you went too close to Hector, your ring burned like fire and it felt as if swords were piercing your body. You felt incredibly lonely like you had before he arrived, but even more afraid than before. You constantly worried about what Lenore was doing to Hector behind closed doors, and unbeknownst to you, he too was worried about what Carmilla was doing to you. Lenore treated you more harshly than she ever had, making it known to you that she was not pleased with you befriending Hector. After she saw you watch as Hector walked past the room you were in, she approached you, grabbing your neck and hoisting you up to be level with her face.

“I know exactly what you are thinking. I suggest you cease those impure thoughts about what is mine.” She warned, smile still soft but eyes filled with hatred.

“I-I don’t know what you mean, mistress-“ you stammered, yelping when she slapped you across the face.

“Lie to me again, I dare you.” She hissed. “Hector is mine, do you understand? He will never love you, he doesn’t even look you in the eye anymore. So quit wasting your time filling your pretty little head with such delusions. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You nodded as best you could, coughing when she finally let you go. She turned to leave, looking back at you with a devious grin.

“I understand your desire for him, of course. I know you saw that cock of his. It feels better than it looks.” She cackled at you, before finally leaving you alone. You choked back tears, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of knowing she got to you. You rushed to your room to cry in peace, instead seeing a letter resting on your pillow. You picked it up and opened it, reading the name at the bottom and seeing it was from Hector.

‘Y/N. I know you’re being forced to keep away from me, I am not angry with you, I’ve been avoiding you too so that I don’t get you into anymore trouble because of me. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you about Lenore, I thought she truly cared about me. How wrong I was. But I’ve been alone with my thoughts for awhile now, and I’ve come to conclusion that I want to help you. I care for you as you cared for me when I arrived, and I don’t want you to suffer on my behalf anymore. You don’t deserve this treatment, and neither do I. I have a plan for escape for us both, I will help you gain your complete freedom back. Wait for another letter from me, but in the meantime, avoid me at all costs. They can’t know we’re speaking again.

Burn this so that they don’t know I’ve reached out. -Hector’

You held the letter to your chest, tears dripping onto your bedding. Nobody had ever wanted to help you before, and if they did it was out of their own self interest. It had been so long since someone showed you any compassion or kindness, and him wanting to help you escape this life gave you a new sense of hope. You did as instructed and burned the letter, and checked your bed often for the next letter. You didn’t see much of Hector for the next week, only catching glimpses of him in the library , and you didn’t dare wander near his work place upstairs. You received a letter with the details of his plan later in the week, with detail of what you needed to do to stay out of danger. He told you about how he would trap Lenore, and allow her to be killed by the sunlight in the morning. Due to her manipulation and his messy feelings towards her, he didn’t have the heart to kill her himself. But Hector wasn’t a killer in the first place, he gave beings life and showed them kindness and empathy, something those vampires lacked.

The plan would be carried out that night, before the sun would rise. You did your chores as usual, not showing any unusual behavior or giving them any reason to be suspicious. You served Carmilla her chalice of blood for her study session, before bowing and leaving her to her work. Striga and Morana were away, all you had to worry about now was Lenore, arguably the worst. You wandered the castle with caution, trying to pinpoint where she was, and when you couldn’t find her, you came to the conclusion she was up at Hector’s workshop. You were supposed to meet him up there, but you didn’t want to risk Lenore hurting either one of you.

A shiver ran up your spine when you heard the screech of night creatures, and in your panic, you feet took you straight to safety; to Hector. It took you a few tries to find his workshop, stumbling up stairs as the castle shook from the attacks of the night creatures. When you finally saw him, a blue magic cage was blocking the doorway, holding Lenore inside of it.

“Hector!” You shouted, his eyes immediately finding yours.

“Y/N! You’re okay!” He smiled getting close to the cage as he could. You ignored the pain from the ring, face contouring in pain, but your smile remained.

“What is this?! Hector!” Lenore raged, glaring daggers at you. “How have you two been conspiring? The rings wouldn’t allow you two to speak!”

“We haven’t said a word to each other in weeks.” Hector said, facial expression stiffening into anger. “We didn’t see each other at all. But I have other ways of communication that you missed, along with the devices I’ve put about the castle. There’s a lot you didn’t see.”

You turned around when you heard the screeching and growls of night creatures, coming up the stairs towards you. You backed up against the cage as much as you could as the creatures approached you, and dark man in capes leading them. You looked at them with fear, knowing night creatures to eat and tear apart anything they wished.

“I do not mean you harm.” The man told you, stepping up to you. “But if you would mind moving, that would be appreciated.”

You stepped aside and he opened the cage with his enchanted sword, allowing you through as well. Lenore had half a mind to tackle you right then and there, but with the man between you she didn’t, instead just glaring. Hector stepped back as you entered the room, not wanting to cause you any pain from the ring. You wanted so desperately to touch him and be near him, but he didn’t want to hurt you any more, keeping his distance as he spoke with his colleague. You watched as he suddenly asked for his friends knife, and you tilted your head in confusion until you saw him bring it to his finger, cutting the ring off of him. His severed finger and ring clattered to the floor, blood dripping and sweat beading on his forehead as he allowed his friend to cauterize the wound with the same knife. Hector took the knife back, giving you a look that asked for your permission. You nodded, hissing in pain as he stepped closer, and crying when he took your hand in his, quickly slicing your own finger off. As soon as the ring fell off, it was like taking a breath of fresh air. You didn’t feel that weight on your shoulders or the fear in the back of your mind anymore, and the physical pain melted away immediately.

“Thank you, Isaac.” Hector said as he handed the knife back to him.

“Of course. Now, I’m off to slay Carmilla. See you on the other side, my friend.” Isaac said, taking the amulet Hector made for him and leaving the room. Hector turned back to you, a soft smile adorning his pretty face.

“Let’s wrap that up, sit.” He gestured to a chair, going to his supplies and finding bandages for the both of you. He wrapped your hand up first worrying about his own only after he asked if your bandage was too tight.

“May I hug you?” You asked suddenly. The adrenaline had made your walls come down, too full of a new hope for life that you didn’t even think to be embarrassed. Hector smiled at you, opening his arms for you to embrace him. Your arms immediately wrapped around him, the first time you’d ever been able to truly touch him since you had met all those weeks ago. You savored the feeling of his own arms wrapped around your body, his chin resting on your shoulder and your face buried in his chest.

“This is nice.” Hector grinned, pulling away slightly to look at you. “Thank you, Y/N. For everything you did for me. You were the first person to show me genuine kindness.” He smiled, before looking at Lenore, who simply glared at the both of you.

“I knew I needed to help you as soon as I laid my eyes upon your face.” You said, leaning in slightly towards his face. “You too were the first person to show me kindness in a very long time, Hector. I…I love you.”

His eyes widened slightly at that, a blush creeping up to his cheeks.

“Oh, please!” Lenore shouted from her cage. “The two of you barely know each other! This is ridiculous!”

“Yes, because you know me so well.” Hector rolled his eyes at her. “Let me put her on the balcony so we can have a real conversation, okay?”

You nodded and let go of him, letting him argue with Lenore and move her somewhere else so she didn’t bother you. You gasped when a force exploded somewhere in the castle, shaking the whole structure with such force. But you felt something else as well…freedom. That man Isaac really did it and killed Carmilla, you could feel it. It immediately brought tears to your eyes, and you began weeping. It had been so long being under Carmilla’s hold, the feeling of her hands being pried off your shoulders was overwhelming. You hadn’t felt like this in years, it almost scared you. You never thought you had a future away from this castle, away from your mistresses. You’d assumed you’d be serving them until the day you died, and probably by their own hands. The relief washed over you, overwhelming you.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Hector asked as he reentered the room, kneeling down in front of you.

“Nothing…nothing at all.” You smiled at him through tears, continuing to sob from the feeling. “I just…I really do love you, Hector.”

“I love you too, Y/N.” He wiped your face with his thumbs as he cupped your face, before leaning in and gently pressing his lips to yours in a perfectly sweet, loving kiss.

[goosewriting]

Peepaw date (rottmnt future!Leo x reader)

we interrupt our scheduled event programming for a quick piece inspired by this drawing of future!leo by @donathan !! i found this prompt “standing still as your lover rubs smudged lipstick/lipstick stains off of your skin, catching them off guard by pressing a kiss against their fingertip” and my brain wouldn’t leave me alone until i wrote this so!! enjoy :’D 

summary: date night with future!Leo where you both have a lil too much wine

relationship: Rise future!Leo x GN reader

warnings: reader is wearing lipstick, mention of alcohol, innuendos?, i’m gonna say 15+ just in case

word count: ~950

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

– – –

You shake your head, laughing at Leo’s corny joke. As your chuckles subside, you take another sip of the wine, your eyes never leaving his. 

He’s always been handsome, obviously, but right now, with his flushed face and soft gaze, he looks downright irresistible. The glasses, suspenders, and those shirt buttons holding on for dear life are certainly not helping. 

The waitress approaches your table, bringing the dessert you ordered earlier. It’s a parfait meant to be shared. According to the menu it was for two people, but this is way bigger than you imagined.

“Need some help?” Leo asks with a smirk, snatching one of the spoons. “Your eyes were bigger than your stomach again, huh?”

You playfully roll your eyes at him. You were stuffed after the meal, and he knew that, but you weren’t gonna go down without at least trying.

“There is always room for dessert” you retort, scooping up a spoonful of the whipped cream at the top of the tall cup, picking up a strawberry slice as well. “Humans have a second stomach just for dessert, you know. It’s science.”

“No, they don’t” he’s quick to answer, but for a second his eyes narrow at you, questioning your statement even if only a little bit, before shaking his head with a chuckle. You almost had him; even after all these years together, you’d still try to tease him with made-up facts about humans (and turtles alike). It was rare, but sometimes you succeeded in convincing him. Until Donnie intervened, that is.

– – –

Once you’re done with dessert and your drinks are empty, you stand up from your chair, only to realise your legs are wobblier than you’d like. For a moment the room spins around you, and you glare at your wine glass. Maybe you drank a bit more than you should have.

You look up at Leo, and notice that he’s not much better off than you. You giggle at his heavy blush, and when he looks at you, you can’t tell if what you see is the turtle drunk on alcohol or on love. It’s probably a little bit of both, and the thought makes your chest swell with warmth.

After paying, you hook your arm under Leo’s and you walk out of the restaurant. When did it get so late? The sun had long set, and now your path is only illuminated by the street lights and a full moon. You inhale deeply as a fresh breeze hits you, carrying the smell of a cool summer night.

“How about a little walk to sober up before we head back?” Leo suggests, and you agree.

You walk a couple of blocks in comfortable silence until you reach the river and start walking along the railing. Every so often there’s a streetlamp, their glow mixing with the night city lights, reflecting and flickering on the water surface, making your surroundings look almost magical.

Your gaze gets lost in the dark water for a moment, until you’re suddenly pushed closer to it. You squeak in surprise, almost tripping over your own feet, as Leo guides you towards the railing, turns you around and pins you with your back against it.

Amused but also confused, you shoot a look up at him and are met with his signature smirk, but there’s also something else in his eyes as he towers over you. One of his hands holds onto the metal bar behind you, the other reaches up to cup your cheek, and you can feel a new wave of heat spreading on your neck and face, not from the wine this time. Unable to keep his intense gaze, you shyly look away to the side, your own hands creeping up on his chest until you intertwine your fingers behind his neck. All these years, and he still makes you feel like a flustered teen.

“Been wanting to do this all night” Leo whispers as he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss. You happily reciprocate, tilting your head for a better angle. After lazily making out for a moment, you leave his mouth to trail kisses down his jawline, neck, and then go back to his lips. He swallows your sighs and little moans as things start getting more heated, when he grinds his hip into yours with a low grunt.

That’s when you push him back, both of you slightly out of breath, and he whines that you stopped.

“Leo, you’re drunk” you chuckle and hold his cheek. He leans into your touch. “We both are. Let’s get home and we can pick up where we left off in the morning. How’s that sound?”

Leo grumbles something unintelligible, but you take it as an agreement. He doesn’t move though, and neither do you. Your eyes travel over his handsome face one last time, and when you reach his lips you can’t help but laugh at his state: your lipstick was smeared all over his mouth, chin and neck.

“Hold on a second” you say and try to rub it off to the best of your abilities. You make a mental note to check for a reflective surface somewhere to clean yourself as well, since you probably don’t look much different than him right now. As you’re trying to get a particularly noticeable smudge off his jaw, Leo reaches up to grab your wrist and places a quick kiss to the palm of your hand, his eyes soft and loving. The gesture catches you off-guard, and your cheeks are ablaze again. 

“Leave it” he says, properly taking your hand in his as he pulls you away from the railing and starts walking home. “Let everyone see I’m yours.”

[simp999]

I feel this is cringe but it itches the back of my mind like no other… since it’s late 60s early 70s in tf2, mercs reaction to there being a new recruit who is a female pilot? I’m sorry if this sounds like? Hyper specific ? But she’s like hot biker/pilot bitch who is like the epitome of Cool Girl (tm) flared ripped jeans and tight tank tops yk?

GOING INSANE OVER THIS ITS SUCH A COOL IDEA

I'm so sorry about how long it took to make this and how short it is, I'm trying to do all my requests in order of what I received em ww

TF2 Mercs x Badass Fem Pilot! Reader Headcannons

Wc: 730

Themes: uhh Fluff? Romantic and platonic depends on character

A/N: Sniper bias whoop

A/N 2: okay so. I try to stray away from fem reader stuff but this THIS is a complete exception because I love the idea sm

Taglist: @emotionally-alive-sniper @moopy-milk @skeleton-stomper-xoxo @emotionallyunwellmedic @physically-robotic-medic

Masterlist

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Scout: 

-God,, he is immediately in love with your style and vibes.

-Yes, in a simpery way

-Will absolutely fumble on words and flirt miserably

-"Hey girl are you a pilot cause uh you’re really cool"

-Absolutely will find clothes that he thinks suits your style and be your #1 hypeman 

Soldier:

-Wants to touch all the buttons

-"SHOW ME YOUR MEDALS!!!!!!"

-Does respect the effort and time you’ve put into training definetly. But is always asking you to prove yourself

-Okay you can pilot but can you do 30 pushups. Right here right now.

Pyro:

-Doesn’t think of you any differently if you’re female

-A new cool friend!!

-Just an adorable little goober. Okay maybe they get to sit in the front sometimes

-Loves loves loves making drawings of you and them and planes!!!! And clouds

Heavy: 

-Protective older brother.

-He is SO overprotective of you. You remind him too much of his sisters.

-You’re strong just like them but,, it’s just scary, y’know? He misses them

-Often just kinda chills around- and won’t stand for ANY harassment or anything rude. AHEM spy AHEM

-And the clear bias for you? It’s honestly funny at times

-He definetly makes you sandviches and just. Silently takes care of you

Engie:

-Rocket boosters for the planes. He’s gonna bring it up on multiple occasions

-Makes you little plane trinkets out of wood and stuff!! Pyro paints them :]

-Is so interested in infodumping about mechanical stuff with you- he’s glad he has somebody that just. GETS HIM yknow?

-If you need someplace to go chill away from the chaos that the mercs usually bring, the workshop’s your go-to. Late night convos are the best with this man

Demo:

-Roughhouses!!

-Treats you like one of the guys

-Respectfully ofc but. You’re getting noogies

-Will be offering you beer n stuff, he treats you like a really good friend

-Lives for your vibes

-He thinks you’re so badass!! Hell yeah!!!

Medic:

-Kay so. You probably had to go through lots of training right?? So!;

-Rivalry for first aid.

-Hear me out

-Everyone all of a sudden wants you to help make them feel better when they get small injuries because of the one time you mentionned you had to do a buttload of first-aid courses

-So. Lots of who can make it to the scene and get (injured person) back on their feet the quickest

-Does ask you if you’ve ever expirinenced or witnessed anything wild- such as big crashes, and how people dealt with the situations

-Loves your stories despite pretending to hate you- it’s just a friendly rivalry!

Sniper:

-He’s not one to really apprach you, but he does definetly admire you from a distance.

-He thinks you’re too cool for him :( 

-But eventually one day, you’ll ctach him stargazing- and you’d have the amazing idea of bringing him for a ride just the two of you so that you can see the stars

-.God maybe he just fell in love I MEAN WHAT????? ANYWAys

-He LOVES stargazing with you!!

-You get to tell eachother stories and it’s overall really calming- a nice from the hectic mercenary life

-He also happens to know a fair bit about constellations, so he’ll infodump unconsiously if you let him :) 

Spy:

-Spyyyy… dislikes your ideals, and has traditional values

-Not a fan of the way you hold yourself, but will eventually warm up a bit

-Im sorry,, I just don’t like Spy aheh anyways

-You probably end up showing off your skills- not of purpose though, just- you seen a natural at what you do, and that’s when he sees that maybe there’s a reason you’re such a big deal

(Bonus!) All:

-They all fight over who gets to sit in the passenger seat. Some are more civil about it, for example Engineer or Heavy- but they still want to sit in the front for their own reasons. You may have walked into the room only to find all the mercs fighting iver who’s calling shotgun for the next ride.

“I AM GOING TO PRESS ALL THE BUTTONS!”

“NO WAY CHUCKLEFUCK, I’M SITTIN’ NEXT TA THE HOT CHICK!”

“No. Heavy will sit next to pilot for protection. Is only fair.”

“Ya’ll- I have some things I’d like to see up close in the cockpit, I think I should be next.”

“Mmhhph!!!”

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Sep.20.23