#and it's actually SHORTER than initially planned

[razorsadness]

I’m not obsessively tagging this one, so just a few content warnings: there’s nothing graphic, but there’s some TMI stuff about sex and masturbation; talk of food and alcohol; discussion of grief, death, and illness; and a brief mention of transphobic/transmedicalist stuff. Also it might come across like I’m bragging about some compliments I’ve gotten for my writing recently. Also it’s long.

This is a really long entry, because I started writing it like, ten days ago, but then more stuff happened. This is a common thing for me, with letters and journal entries; I start writing them but don’t have time to finish, then more stuff happens, and I start adding the new stuff, but don’t have time to finish, and then more stuff happens and…you get the idea.

Anyway, these past two weeks have been jam-packed. There’s been a lot of luck & magic & beauty, with some hard stuff mixed in. (That’s life, that’s what all the people say…)

…

The evening of Thursday the 16th, I sent the ‘Mats-inspired vignettes to the editor of a zine I thought it’d be perfect for. Friday morning, I opened my email, and read his response. He loves it, and wants to run it in the next issue. He said I “perfectly captured that lonely midwestern feeling that certain Replacements songs have,” and that my writing is “romantic, but also real, like Kerouac mixed with Cometbus.” And if you know me at all, you know why I practically swooned over those particular compliments.

I also got an email saying our local library’s free seed library was newly restocked for the year, and I wanted to get there before it was all picked over. So, C. and I went to the library and picked up seeds for this year’s garden, along with an info packet on where and when to plant everything. We got seeds for: cayenne and poblano peppers; pickling cucumbers; spinach, mustard greens, collard greens, and kale; eggplant, squash, broccoli; Roma and Wisconsin organic (heirloom) tomatoes; carrots, and radishes. I’m so excited. Last year’s garden was our most successful ever, but we also made a couple mistakes which we learned from, so I’m thinking this year’s garden might be even better.

After that, C. and I popped over to my friend D.’s house. We got to meet his new pitbull-mix, Leonard, who is less than a year old and is therefore super high-energy, but so sweet. And we got to see their two-week-old foster kittens (and their mama), and C. even got to pet one! D. also gave me some cayenne and habanero, which he grew in his garden last year, then dried and ground—he’s been giving it to anyone who wants some, as he grew so many peppers that he can’t possibly use it all. (He also offered me some Carolina Reaper, but I passed on that.) I told him if there was ever anything I could give him in trade, to let me know, and he said: “Just listening to your spoken world album is trade enough,” and went on to say that he’s in awe of my poetic abilities.

All these compliments, a guy could get a big head! Except, I often think my writing is okay at best and I should just quit; when I get compliments like those it just offsets that and makes me realize that if other people are getting something from what I write, I should keep going.

Our last stop was the grocery store, where I got the rest of what I needed for the Dublin coddle, and got my flirt on with a beautiful redhead girl.

I had thought about putting green dye in my hair and painting my nails green for St. Paddy’s Day, but after all that running about town, I didn’t have time. I did, however, put my hair in braids (it’s long enough to braid now!), and put on green eyeliner.

I spent the next while putting together the Dublin coddle and getting it into the oven. I listened to the St. Patrick’s Day mix I listen to every year, then I listened to Hozier’s new EP, which holy fuck, I am trying so hard to be normal about, but it’s difficult. I truly wish I had a close friend who was into Hozier that I could nerd out about it with. Then I made a cup of tea and sat out in the backyard for a bit. One of the neighborhood crows came and lit on the fence, and it was cawing loudly about something. I asked it what was wrong, and we had a little ‘conversation.’

Me: “What is it, what’s wrong?” Crow: *cocks its head from side to side* caw caw. Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t help you with that.” Crow: squirrr-wakkk. Me: “I’m sure it will turn out fine.”

Funnily enough, the crow quieted down after that, stayed there for a while looking at me, then flew off.

It was really windy that day. To paraphrase myself: the wind, my lover, had returned, so I flirted with him a bit.

In the evening, I drank a pint of Guinness and a small glass of Jameson. In the old days, I would have easily downed three pints of stout and at least half a bottle of whiskey, not even because it was St. Patrick’s Day, but because it was a day, and to paraphrase myself, again—if you’re really Irish, you don’t need an excuse to get drunk. But I don’t do that anymore. The thing I do still do is get nostalgically sad (sadly nostalgic?) about old flames, and I had a few moments of that on St. Paddy’s Night. I found myself missing Ruby, and Jack of Spades, who I always miss most at this time of year; and Derry, whom I miss all the time, but always hardest in the spring and fall.

And then I emailed Derry. When I saw him back in October, I told him why I never respond to his periodic emails. And since then, he hasn’t emailed me; we left each other with the ball in my court, with it being up to me if I wanted to ever be in contact with him again. I probably shouldn’t have. I wasn’t even drunk, so I didn’t have that as an excuse. My only excuses are that I miss him so, so, so much, and I’m addicted to bad ideas.

Then P. and the kiddos and I watched Darby O’Gill and the Little People, which I hadn’t seen since I was a child. The movie left an indelible impression on me when I was a kid, though—I was deeply, deeply terrified of the banshee. Watching it the other night, I was no longer afraid, but I do understand why it scared me so back then. The sound she makes is absolutely bone-chilling.

…

Saturday, the temperature dropped, drastically—it was the coldest day we’ve had in weeks, felt more like midwinter again—but we braved the cold to go downtown and see the St. Paddy’s Day parade. It’s a small parade, even smaller this year because some people dropped out due to the weather, but it was still nice. A marching band started it off with a rendition of “Whiskey in the Jar.” One of the bars on Main Street was selling drinks, both alcoholic and non, in to-go cups, so you could grab one and take it outside while you watched the parade. P. and I both got Irish coffees, the kids got hot chocolate. The kids grabbed handfuls of candy and green plastic beads that some of the floats were tossing to the crowd. I sipped from my drink, and half-watched the parade, half-watched the other spectators.

There was a super sexy man standing near us. He was fat and also just big, like over six feet tall. He had a long, gray beard, but it was a very well-kept long beard, not ratty or dirty in any way. He was wearing a black beanie, a black leather jacket, an Irish kilt (with the tartan for County Derry; yes, I looked it up when I got home), and these tall, intricately patterned leather boots. I guess he caught me lookin’, cuz he fucking winked at me, and then I blushed so hard that my face felt hot despite the cold. Jaysis.

The best parts of the parade were the Root River Rollers (our local roller derby team; they looked hella cute in their green plaid skirts and black leggings and derby gear; I have a major thing for derby girls and have for a very long time); the float from McAuliffe’s Pub (they had someone on fiddle and someone on bodhrán, playing a reel); the pirates of Will’s Revenge (they’re a local group who cosplay as pirates for various events, I always love them, but this time they’d added little Irish touches for St. Paddy’s; of course I thought of B. saying of me all those years ago: …you’re and Irish pirate, that’s the best kind); and the girls from a local dance school (they were wearing black hoodies and black leggings and sparkly green tutus; they did a wildly impressive hiphopjazz dance routine).

Later that day, I made some minor edits on my ‘Mats vignettes (at the editor’s suggestion), while listening to The ‘Mats, and “Treatment Bound” came on and for the first time it hit me how much it sounded like some of my old friend L.’s music. I mean, I knew he was a Replacements fan, but it had honestly never hit me until then how much his sound was influenced by some of their stuff. Particularly the stuff off Hootenanny. And then I sat around missing L. for a while. I’ve written about him a lot before. He was one of those friends I had an intense crush on, and I thought I wanted to smooch him or maybe even bone him, but the most we ever did was cuddle/spoon. And then I realized it was better that way; I could get really close to him without worrying about sex making it weird. And then years later, I realized I never had actually wanted to fuck him, I had wanted to be him (or, well, be more like him, anyway). He had such a huge impact on my writing, my music, my life. We never had a falling out, just lost touch, got busy with our separate lives, never ran into each other anymore. The usual. I think of him often, though, and decided to web-search him the other day just so see what he’s up to. I found out that all his albums are now up on Bandcamp, and I’m so excited, because I lost my copies of them ages ago, and I love his music so much.

…

The next day was warmer again, though still windy. I took a long walk by myself. I trysted with the wind, again; he yanked my hair and slapped my cheeks pink. I walked down to the Little Free Library that’s in my neighborhood; I’ve found some great stuff in it before, and it had been months since I’d checked it. This time, I found nothing. I did, however, spot a tow truck with the words Anywhere and Anytime on it, and I snapped a picture. It seemed like a good sign, as the title of my ‘Mats memoir series is Anyplace or Anywhere or Anytime.

When I got home from the walk, I spent the rest of the afternoon writing.

…

Monday, I woke up and got the bullshit stuff I had to do but had been dreading/putting off out of the way first. I am not always able to do that, but the Executive Function fairy truly blessed me that day. Then I did school stuff with the kids. It was warm enough that we could do a (partially) outdoor science experiment. First, the kids designed protective casing for eggs, then we took them out in the backyard and dropped them from various heights to see how far they could drop without breaking. We even recorded our results! It was a lot of fun.

After that, I did some witchy stuff to celebrate the first day of spring. I redecorated my altar, lit some incense, did a little spell/ritual. Then I did a Spring Equinox tarot reading for myself, and it was so clear and right-on that I reached out to Emchy and was like: “Hey, the cards are really talking to me today, want me to pull a few for you?” She said yes, so I did.

Later in the afternoon, I took another solo walk. This time I took photos of some of the sidewalk date stamps in my neighborhood. I also spotted the first crocus of the season, and snapped photos of those. Trysted with the wind again. Sang (quietly, but out loud) as I walked—first Jolie Holland’s “Springtime Can Kill You” (because it is one of my all-time favorite songs), then the Counting Crows’ “Sullivan Street” (because I’d thought of something ‘hanging on the air,’ and it made me think of that song).

When I got home, I wrote a short poem, and then I started working on translating it into Gaeilge. I find that when I’m learning a new language, translating my words/thoughts from English into said language helps.

After that, I checked my email. There was one from Derry; his response to the email I’d sent on St. Patrick’s Day. I am not going to quote from it directly, not here; some things have to be kept just for me. Suffice it to say: we’re not trying to hook up or get together or start things all over again, but we’re mutually unsure where that leaves us; he misses and loves me just as much as I do him.

P. and I made dinner together that night. He made the sides and I made the main dish. We’d already planned on making roasted potatoes with dijon and rosemary (because we already had all the ingredients) and green beans with onions and bacon (because we already had the bacon and onions); we’d already decided to have pork chops as the main dish. But the night before I got a craving for French food, so that morning I looked up “French pork chops,” and found a recipe for pan-cooked pork chops with paprika, in an onion-dijon cream sauce. It was amazing.

We finished off the night by having passionate sex. It was a perfect ending to the first day of spring.

…

Tuesday was kinda crappy. The kids were cranky, and I had some unspecified physical yuck happening; my stomach hurt and I was just exhausted the whole day. But I managed to take another walk, this time with C. And it was World Poetry Day, so I read some poetry and worked more on my translation.

…

Wednesday was a happysad day. It was the ten year anniversary of my grandma’s death, so of course I was thinking about her. I was also thinking about Jason Molina. The 18th had been the ten year anniversary of his death, and my grief over losing my grandma is inextricably bound up with my grief over Jason Molina’s death. When my grandma got seriously ill, and we knew she wasn’t going to live much longer, I was deeply depressed, and I was listening to a lot of Songs: Ohia and Magnolia Electric Co. at the time, and then Jason died, and four days later my grandma died, so yeah, they’re always linked in my mind.

Wednesday was also my dad’s birthday. I wrote a birthday poem for him, and collaged a card to put it in. In the afternoon, P. and I went to a local job fair and found out about some potential employment opportunities for him. Fingers crossed that one of them pans out, because they’re pretty good ones. As we were leaving the job fair, we saw a seagull and a hawk fighting. Then we and the kiddos went to my folks’ house to celebrate my dad’s birthday. We had a nice dinner and some cake, and I gave my dad the card I’d made.

My mom and I reminisced about my grandma (her mom). Then she told me about an old friend of the family who is battling a serious illness. Later, Joni Mitchell came up in conversation, and my mom and I were talking about Joni and her music, and the memories we have attached to it—for both of us, Joni’s songs specifically remind us of being in our twenties. So we were both in our feelings about my grandma and the old family friend and our own pasts and Joni’s music, and we listened to “River” and cried a little together, and it was probably the closest I’ve felt to my mom in a long while.

Later that night, as I lay in the dark trying to fall asleep, I heard coyotes yipping as they wandered through the neighborhood.

…

Thursday, the kids were in bad moods again, and I was feeling anxious about various stuff. But I managed to get past it. I read some, made a collage, drank some tea. I signed up for a temporary money-making side gig. I finished writing/editing the poem about the time Ali and I visited Nancy Spungen’s grave; I have been working on it on-and-off for years, and I’m glad to finally have it in a place where I feel like it’s ready to be out in the world.

Then I watched the crows in the yard. That crow I talked to on St. Patrick’s Day? It returned, and brought its mate, and they are building a nest in the tree that hangs partially over our yard! Maybe that’s what it was making a racket about the first time; maybe it was scouting locations for a nest and was trying to get its mate to come see? In any case, we’re gonna have crow neighbors, and they’re gonna start a family! Oh my god, there are gonna be baby crows! The crows in the area are probably already familiar with me, because I have left out food for them before, and said hello when I’ve been near them; and I’m very glad that my talking to one of them the other day did not deter them from building their nest in/near our yard. (I’ve now started leaving peanuts for them in the backyard, since at least this pair has been coming around that side more often, and they’ve been back every day, but more about that later.)

Thursday night, I had a dream about my old friend J.C. I’ve known him since I was in the sixth grade, and we’ve been in and out of each other’s lives since (again, no falling out, just life drifting us apart), but I haven’t seen him in almost fourteen years now. It was good to see him in the dream, though, and I hope he’s doing well.

…

Friday, I spent most of the day getting ready for that evening’s spoken word gig. I collated zines, gathered together all the merch I wanted to take with me. I gathered together the poems I might want to read; timed a few newer ones/ones I’d never performed at a reading before. I drove to the bank downtown; to get some cash in various smaller denominations of bills, so I’d have change to give when people bought my merch. At one point on the drive, I was behind a car, and I noticed one of their bumper stickers: the background was the pride flag, and the text over it read Make America Gay Again. Awesome. Back at home, I started enacting even more pre-event rituals. (I say ‘event’ because I have long enacted some or all of these rituals whether it’s a spoken word gig, a music gig, a zine fest, an art show, a burlesque performance, a circus performance, etc. etc. Basically, I enact some or all of these rituals, or other, similar ones, whenever I have any kind of event where I’m performing and/or selling stuff, whether it’s in-person or online.) I cut the sleeves off my Keep Books Dangerous tee (a sure sign of spring for me, cutting the sleeves off a t-shirt), and changed out/added to the pins on my leather jacket. I freshened the color in my hair. I did all this while summoning the Undying Spirit of Punk Rock, by blasting the Daycare Swindlers.

Listening to the DC Swindlers of course made me think of N., as he was the lead singer of that band. I know I’ve written about him before, but I was hit with a wave of missing him so hard on Friday. We were platonic soulmates. I was never sexually or romantically attracted to him; as far as I know he was never into me that way either. (In fact I had a huge crush on his girlfriend!) But we just clicked; from the first time we met we had people saying we were like twins. We didn’t look anything alike, but there was just something about us. The way we dressed, our predilections, obviously our taste in women; just our general vibes. Twins. Soulmates. Because not all soulmates are romantic or sexual in nature; in fact, for as many romantic/sexual partners as I’ve had, I’ve had far more platonic soulmates.

Other rituals I enacted pre-gig were putting on my necklace of charms and dabbing a bit of the “Follow Me, Boy” scent on my pulse points.

P. actually got to come with me for once, which was amazing. I’ve said before that my parents are real weird about watching the kids, but this time they offered so P. could go with me, and of course I jumped at the chance.

At about five, we dropped the kiddos at my parents house, then headed north/west, to the far west side of Milwaukee, right on the border of Wauwatosa. Drove up on old familiar roads, saw some excellent graffiti. Parked near the gallery where my reading was, in front of a beautiful soft-yellow house with a pride flag hung from their porch, and a sign in the yard: We Back the Vag. Again, awesome.

The gallery was great, full of funky-cool art. Everyone that worked there was super friendly, so were all the other performers (both featured and open mic). At least half the people there, performers and audience, were some flavor of queer, and there were also several POC and several Jewish people! (I know that last part for a fact because a few of the poets read pieces that mentioned Judaism/being Jewish.) I felt so comfortable and happy. Like, obviously, as a queer person, I get tired of being around only cishets; but even as a white goy, I also get tired of being around only white, (culturally) Christian folks. I guess I just spent enough of my life in big cities and other diverse spaces that I am actually less at ease when everyone looks like me and/or has a similar cultural background. And it’s just fucking boring, ya know? Why would I only wanna be around people who look and act like me?!

Soon after we arrived at the gallery, I was setting up my merch, and the queer kid (I say ‘kid’ because they were in their early 20s, which, now that I’m in my 40s, is definitely in ‘kid’ territory for me) who was the musician for the evening saw my spoken word album—Self Portrait with Ghosts & Trains. “That’s definitely something I would listen to,” they said. “I like ghosts, I like trains.” Pause. “Damn, too bad I only know one train song. I mean, I only know how to play one train song. I know lots of train songs in general.” I told them that I’d made a playlist of train songs a few years ago, and that even though I’d spent time narrowing it down from the original list, it still had 50+ songs on it. “Have you ever seen Metalocalypse?” They asked. “How come all they sings about is trains?” I replied. “That is actually the name of my train song playlist, no kidding.” They laughed, said, “What else is there, really?,” and then we fist bumped.

Then it was time for the open mic part of the evening, and the other featured poet-performers. All of the other poet-performers were really good, in their own ways. Some of them were just good all around, both poetry-wise and performance-wise. Others were not my jam, poetry-wise, but performed their stuff really well. And still others were people whose poems were fantastic but who were fairly new to performing; I know that if they keep at it they will be absolute fire in the not-too-distant future.

Then it was my turn. I opened my set with a poem that is not my own. See, it would have been Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s 104th birthday that day, so I opened with “See, it was like this, when…” Then I did a bit of improv. What I mean by that is—I had brought way more poems with me than I could feasibly read, and I had a couple I knew I for sure wanted to read but for the rest it was like, I’ll just go with what I’m vibing with at the time. And some of the other performers inspired some of my choices. One of the poets read some of their sonnets, so I read two of my sonnets; one of the performers opened with an a capella rendition of “Cabaret,” so I read my Cabaret-inspired poem. I also read two of my Wisconsin poems—a Milwaukee one, and my Beast of Bray Road poem; an excerpt from The Loneliest Show On Earth; and the poem about visiting Nancy’s grave. The crowd was so, so attentive and responsive. Like, they were there to hear poetry. I heard some laughter during parts of some of my poems (not laughing at, laughing with), and also some gasps and ohs. Afterward, I got so many compliments. I mean, people were telling me my stuff was funny but also moving, or saying it was like I cast a spell, saying they got chills at certain points; someone noticed the Diane Di Prima influence on my work, someone else noticed the Lynda Hull influence…god damn. I sold some stuff and got a cut of the door, and it was enough to cover my gas money to and from the gig and still have like thirty bucks left over; gotta love that sweet, sweet poetry money. (To quote myself: How no one warned you it’s hard to make a living writing about your heart. How you don’t make a living, but you sometimes make enough money for wine.) I also got approached by the guy who runs the weekly Poetry Nights at Linneman’s River West Inn, and he wants me to be the featured poet there sometime in July or August. I’m so excited! I haven’t been to Linneman’s since early 2009, but back when I lived in MKE I used to perform there all the time—though back then, I performed on the music open mic nights, as that’s when I was more focused on music than poetry. Speaking of music—when the kid I’d talked to earlier in the evening got up for their set, they played the one train song they knew how to play—“Freight Train,” by Elizabeth Cotten—and dedicated it to me. My heart.

P. and I left, then crossed the border into ‘Tosa, and got a round at a beer & whiskey bar called Draft & Vessel. I had an imperial stout that had chai spices in it, and it was so fuckin’ good.

On the drive home, I got to experience that magical thing that happens on the road at night. You know, where you look down at your lap, and the lights coming in through the windshield from above have striated your skin and clothing, and as you move the stripes move, moving stripes of light/shadow/light/shadow. I wish I could think of a better way to describe it; if I can, I’m going to put it in a poem.

…

Saturday we got a bunch of snow. Early spring snow is not uncommon in the upper midwest—in the immortal words of Prince: sometimes it snows in April. And anyway, we had nowhere we needed to be that day, so we just had a cozy-at-home, creative day. P. and I made meal plans for the coming week. I wrote a bit. I made a necklace, inspired by some I’d seen at the gallery and couldn’t afford. I took some knolling photos of my bottlecap, key, and souvenir penny collections; for no other reason than that I felt like it. I recorded an audio version of my VU-inspired poem from Left of the Dial.

My knee and ankle were hurting all day. The poetry reading had been packed full and there were only about eight chairs available, and there were people in their sixties and seventies there, and I never think of my disabilities as real enough, so I gave the chairs to those I thought needed them more, and I stood the whole time. And yeah, I paid for it, bodily. It sucked to be in pain all the next day, but I did kind of chuckle at the “I’m getting old”-ness of it all. Like, I used to go wild in the pit at punk shows and maybe I’d get banged up and sore but I’d be mostly okay (with the notable exception being that time I broke my ankle in the pit), and now I stand for a couple hours at a poetry reading and I’m in pain for days.

I thought of Sinclair, another old flame, that day; possibly because of that kid playing “Freight Train” the night before, as that was a staple of Sinclair’s repertoire. I haven’t seen or spoken to him in somewhere close to 14 years now, and I haven’t even web-searched him in a decade. Unlike with some of my other exes, it’s not that I fear I’ll decide to contact him and open everything up again, it’s that— Well, I’ve worried that he might be dead or in prison. He was a sweetheart, genuinely one of the best, kindest people I’ve ever known—but he was also an outlaw, and he lived a rough life. He was a queer train-hopping hobo/crusty/circus performer/musician; he was often homeless, and had bouts of trouble with the law and various addictions. Saturday, I decided to look him up to see what I could find…and I was relieved to know that he’s not just living but seemingly thriving, back in his hometown of New Orleans, where he just had a music gig on March 23rd. I’m so relieved. Just knowing that he’s out there, still doin’ his thing, is enough for me.

That night, P. and I had hot, wild, rough sex, and I fell asleep more easily than I normally do. Unfortunately, I did have a terrible dream that woke me up in the middle of the night, and then it took me hours to get back to sleep. I don’t even want to go into detail about it because it was so gruesome and bloody and involved terrible bodily harm being visited on some of my loved ones, including one of my kids. I actually had to go into D.’s room and make sure he was okay, and sit watching him breathe for a while, before I could calm down at all. I don’t have vivid, horrific dreams as much now as I did when I was in my teens and twenties, but when they come? They’re fucking doozies. A lot of horror doesn’t even scare me because I’ve had dreams that were just as graphic, but even worse, because the harm was being visited on me and/or people I love.

…

Sunday, I woke up to the notification that someone had bought some stuff from my online shop, which is always a nice thing to wake up to.

Later in the morning, it snowed a little more, and I saw the crows again. And this time, they’d brought a friend. My first thought was: “They’re a polycule!” Which, okay, I know crows don’t work that way, but I recently read something that said crows are ‘socially monogamous but genetically promiscuous’ so maybe? In any case, they were with a third crow; probably another member of their murder. And they were playing! I watched them leap down from the tree to the top of the neighbors’ garage roof, then slide to the bottom edge near the eaves, from which they’d fly back up to the tree and do it all over again. I was so fucking thrilled; I’ve seen videos of crows playing before, but I’ve never seen it so clearly in person. I wanted to get my own video, but of course by the time I got my phone and got ready to record, they’d stopped. I know, pics or it didn’t happen, but this has just been one of the many amazing things I’ve witnessed or experienced in my life where I do not have any ‘factual’ documentation, and it doesn’t even matter because I know it happened and it lives inside me, now.

In the late afternoon, D. had the worst meltdown he’s had in a while. His anger is getting worse as he edges towards adolescence, but at least now he has a therapist that can help us through it.

For dinner, P. made shrimp, pork, and andouille jambalaya, with a side of greens. We had sex again that night; this time, it was slow, lazy, and deeply sensual.

…

Monday morning, D. had his therapy appointment, then I did schoolwork with the kiddos. Then I got dinner going in the crockpot (one of my favorite go-to meals: Moroccan chicken tagine with chickpeas and apricots) while listening to my favorite radio station; they played banger after banger after banger, and I discovered a bunch of new (to me) favorite songs.

Monday evening, before dinner, we filed our taxes. We’re not getting back as much as I’d hoped (because the fucking Republicans decided to axe the expanded Child Tax Credit), but we’re still getting enough that it will make a positive difference in our lives over the next couple months.

That night, we had sex; wild and hot and fast again, that time.

…

Despite all the sex we’ve been having, I woke up ridiculously horny on Tuesday. I was also really restless and a little bit anxious, but I had to do all this sitting-at-my-desk bullshit like attending the Zoom training session for my new side gig, and applying for energy assistance. In between sit-down tasks, I worked through my restless, horny energy by either pacing around or jacking off. Seriously, it was like, bullshit task, walk up and down the stairs a few times; bullshit task, lock myself in the bathroom to jack off; and so on. I ended up jacking off three times that day. (Twice during the day, once at night in bed after P. had fallen asleep; his chronic back pain was acting up so we couldn’t mess around that night, alas.)

The best things of that day were: 1. Finding out I was such a hit at the gallery on Friday that they want me to be one of their features again in May. Like, according to the person who is my point of contact there, even after I left, people were coming up to her saying: “Wow, Jessie was amazing; when can I see them again?!” 2. The burgers we made for dinner that night: blue cheese, bacon, Buffalo sauce, and tomato burgers.

…

Yesterday I clocked a couple hours for my new side gig. It’s kinda tedious, but at least I can do it on my own time, and I need the money.

After that, I did school stuff with the kiddos, including some art time. They both painted, and I sat down to draw something that I thought was kind of inspired by Paradise Lost (cuz I’m on a Milton kick lately) and Nick Cave, but which turned out to be a figure straight out of that horrifying dream I had on Saturday. And I am  actually entirely freaked out by the drawing; I had to hide it so I won’t see it.

I spent most of the afternoon laying in bed, drinking tea and reading, as my sinuses were acting up and I couldn’t do much else.

Fortunately, I felt better by evening. For dinner, I made fish tacos (with shredded lettuce, pico de gallo, fresh avocado, and lime wedges for garnish) with beans and rice on the side.

And P. and I got to have sex last night, and it was great, again, as it has been lately.

…

Today I woke up restless, horny, and anxious, again. Mostly the anxiety stemmed from a phone call I had to make. Before I made the call, I did yoga, ate a small breakfast, and took my ashwagandha and magnesium supplements, which helped ease my anxiety a little. Then I made the call, and it sucked, but not as bad as I had feared it would, and hey, at least then it was done.

Late morning, I took the kids to the library. They got to play in the play area for a while; I talked with a mom who was there with her three kiddos (all of them true gingers!). We checked out a bunch of books, as per usual. Then came home to make lunch—mini quesadillas, plus avocado & pico de gallo & beans & rice left over from last night.

After lunch, I decided to take a walk. It’s chilly and a bit windy today, but it had been over a week since I took a walk, and I get even antsier/more restless without them. So I bundled up, and took some hot coffee in my travel mug to keep me warm.

When I stepped out the back door, my crow friend was in the tree where it’s building its nest. It saw me and cawed, then went flying toward the front yard, like it wanted me to follow. I was like: “Oooh, side quest!” When I got out to the sidewalk, I saw the crow in the front yard a few houses down, pulling at something in the mud. I got to the crow just as it pulled the object free, and I saw it was this long, silvery piece of something—like maybe tinsel, or part of a mylar balloon. I said: “Oh, good for you, you found a shiny for your mate!” The crow then flew back towards our backyard.

As I said above, I’ve been feeding the crows in this neighborhood on and off for years, and occasionally saying hello to them, but I do not understand why this particular crow (and by extension, its mate and family/friends) has decided we’re besties. I do not understand, but I am fucking delighted.

I took my walk around the block, got home, promptly locked myself in the bathroom and jacked off.

Tonight, for dinner, P. made chicken cacciatore. The recipe he uses has a white (white wine, lemon juice, olive oil) sauce as opposed to the usual tomato-based chicken cacciatore, and it’s so good. And I’m hoping we get to fuck again tonight, cuz like I said, I’m wildly, insatiably horny these days.

…

This weekend is looking like it will be another jam-packed one. I have to meet up with K. to pick up the Joe Strummer piece I commissioned for Ali’s birthday. There’s a couple activist things I’m participating in; tomorrow’s rally for queer youth, plus some voter outreach stuff I signed up to do prior to next Tuesday’s very important election.

Saturday is the start of National Poetry Month/NaPoWriMo. I plan to attempt a 30/30, because I generated so much work last April (and had fun doing it). I’m also working up some curriculum to teach both the kids about reading and writing poetry, at age-appropriate levels.

One of my first projects for NaPoWriMo is gonna be trying to finish translating that poem I wrote last week from English to Gaeilge. It’s been tricky because, though it’s a short poem, it has an odd structure that does not lend itself easily to Gaeilge. Also, my grasp on Gaeilge is rudimentary at best. But then, that’s why I’m doing this, to help me learn.

Next week, I’m hoping to finish getting the New Wave anthology ready for print.

…

Other than all that? Well, there have been more realizations and epiphanies.

I’ve been getting braver, again. Doing things even if I’m scared to; because I remembered that most of the best things in my life have come from moments of “Am I scared? Yeah, but fuck it, I’ll do it anyway.”

I’ve been reincorporating elements of my old life, my old personality. From things as simple as drinking lapsang souchong again, taking walks whenever I can, rereading old favorite books, rediscovering old favorite albums; to things more esoteric. For so long I’d been lamenting the days when I was a mystical romantic lovesick dork, wishing I could be that way again but thinking I was too old. But now I’m allowing myself to behave that way again. I’m romanticizing my daily life, singing as I walk down the street, talking with the crows, cavorting with the wind.

A lot of those things (the tea, the walks, the mystical romantic lovesick dorkiness) sort of rhyme with a very specific time in my life, namely 2006-2008, and it’s funny that I’ve been asked to do a reading at Linneman’s, which was a place I frequented in those years. I know, you can’t go home again—except, sometimes you can.

And I’m also glad that I’m managing to reintegrate the positive aspects of those days without the self-destructive ones (i.e., drinking to excess and hooking up with people I didn’t even really like very much).

Another thing I’m reincorporating into my life is the DIY? Because I Gotta attitude. It’s not that I’ve ever fully lost it, but I’ve been doing a lot of it lately: things like making that necklace for myself, writing the poem and making the collage-card for my dad, etc. I used to get down on myself because I’ve never had enough money to buy gifts for all my loved ones for every occasion, but now I’m like, wait, this is actually a good thing about me. Not the lack-of-money part, but… I might not have money to buy people gifts all the time, but I do things like make them art, write them poems, make them personalized zines, make them mix tapes or playlists, bake them bread or cookies, give them veggies from my garden, give them tarot readings, etc. That’s actually pretty fucking cool.

I’ve been re-redefining success re: my writing career. Once again reminding myself that as long as my words get out in the world and the people who need them find them, that’s the most important thing—doesn’t so much matter what route those words take to get there. Reminding myself that I can look for agents for certain projects, submit to the more established lit journals, enter big name contests, etc., but that I can also continue to publish my own zines and chapbooks, and send stuff out to indie mags and presses. I don’t have to choose! I can try it all!

Speaking of not having to choose—I’ve been re-embracing the fluid nature of both my gender/gender expression and my sexuality.

For a while I was reading too much of that baeddelism stuff, and even though I objectively know it’s bullshit, it kinda got to me. I started thinking to myself: “You’re not currently pursuing medical transition, you have long hair, and you still wear skirts and makeup sometimes. Those people are right—you’re just a penis-obsessed cis woman LARPing as nonbinary.” And then I was like, wait. First of all, though medical transition is an important part of transitioning for many trans people, it is not the only valid way to transition. Second of all, plenty of men, trans and cis, have long hair or wear skirts or makeup; why am I letting a handful of people who are basically TIRFs (trans-inclusive radical feminists) dictate how I present and what that means about my gender? My gender and sexuality have always been fluid, that’s just who and how I am; that’s why I have always preferred the term queer—because it states that I am not cishet, but doesn’t box me into some narrow definition of gender or sexuality that might change the next moment, anyway. So, once again: I’m here, I’m queer, get used to it. And: You cannot misgender me in a way that matters.

Speaking of fluid sexuality—the way my desires are changing lately is fascinating.  Some things that used to turn me on no longer do it for me; other things that I was never into are now super hot.

These past two weeks have made me think of that Aaron Cometbus quote, about the kind of days I’ve been having: Simple days but with little surprises and long walks and good luck.

And it’s spring, it’s spring! Still chilly, but it stays lighter later every night, and the birds are out squawking and singing at all hours, and of course I’m restless and horny, it’s spring!

Overall, I’ve been full of gratitude and joy. I have amazing friends, all over the world. I get so overwhelmed with love for my kids, and for P. Seriously, every day I look at P. and think how lucky I am to have him as my partner in life; as the person I get to raise kids with and have hot sex with and cook good food with and wake up to every morning. And every day, I get to read books and listen to music and make art and write.

Of course things aren’t perfect, with the kids or with P., and I’m tired of being broke, and there’s the anxiety and executive dysfunction, and there’s a lot of bad shit in the world. But I have plans to make my and my family’s future better. And I’m getting more involved with activism again—apparently, when I allow myself to do things that bring me joy, I have more spoons for helping other people! Shocking, I know.

And I cry a lot, and I get nostalgically sad and long for old faces and places I once knew, and I get restless and long for new faces and places and adventures. And my heart breaks every day, from the beauty of the world, and the pain. But if that’s the tax for being a poet, for being a mystical romantic lovesick dork; if that’s the tax for not being closed off to any part of life—then I will gladly, gladly pay it.

[kesujo]

Chapter 1: Miss Personal Trainer

This year was the year Kang Seojun would get his shit together. He would learn more recipes and eat healthier, he would start working out and craft himself a body of the gods, and he would finally get a girlfriend and lose his virginity. After finally being able to move out of his parent’s house, after enjoying his newfound freedom, he admittedly slacked off—but that would change. With the new year came newly discovered motivation, and that started with the year subscription he purchased to the gym located near his apartment complex.

And boy was Seojun glad he chose to do that, because the personal trainer assigned to him was smoking hot. Seojun had seen his fair share of scantily clad idols, actresses, and models, but they all paled in comparison to her. She had perfect, milky-white skin and a slim physique but by no means was a slacker in the curves department. The way her formfitting gym wear followed the soft curves on her body, accentuating the fullness of her breasts and her hips, was absolutely sinful. He immediately wondered what running his hand across her curvaceous body would feel like, not long after catching himself and chastising his dirty mind for thinking about a woman he just met that way.

She introduced herself as Kim Taeyeon, and despite being about half a head shorter than himself, she gave off an extremely mature, knows-what-she’s-doing aura, which stood in stark contrast to her baby-faced appearance. Was Taeyeon in her thirties already or was she still in her early twenties? Seojun secretly hoped for the former as he wasn’t particularly keen on dating someone more than five years younger than him. Not that he ever stood a chance with her—on a scale of 1 to 10, she was probably an 11 in sexiness, cuteness, and general attractiveness. Seojun figured if he spent a lot of money and tried really hard, he was maybe a 7.

“So, Seojun, what’s your goal with working out?”

Her silvery voice was another thing: it was smooth, like warm butter, the words just seeming to flow out of her mouth like water from a steady creek. It was disarming, dangerously so; Seojun felt like he could listen to it all day. He then wondered what it sounded like moaning his name, shortly after catching himself with the salacious thought—what was with him today? He wasn’t normally like this. Was he that desperate?

“Um, I—” he stopped short, his heart skipping a beat at the delightful sight of Taeyeon giggling for a brief moment.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, please continue.”

Seojun hesitated, briefly wondering if she was laughing at him. “—I just thought that with the new year, that I should actually dedicate myself to working out and get a nice physique.”

“That’s admirable—sorry about earlier, I wasn’t laughing at you, I just suddenly thought of something funny.”

Seojun was perhaps a bit too relieved upon hearing that. “Oh, no worries! I didn’t take it that way.”

“The first thing we should do is create a workout plan accordingly. If you want to bulk up, you need to commit to changing your entire lifestyle. Are you prepared for that?”

He nodded. “Protein shakes, eating meals of only grilled chicken, rice, and steamed broccoli, right? Stuff like that?”

She nodded. “Right, something like that…” It may have just been Seojun, but he swore that a gleam appeared in Taeyeon’s eyes when she trailed off. He felt himself naturally shuddering; as sexy as the expression was, the sensation that passed through him wasn’t of arousal, but more akin to a primal fear. Like Taeyeon was a lion and he, a wounded antelope. “…but that’s all really hard work. There’s another way to achieve that goal, but you’ll have to just trust me.”

Honestly, Seojun was having a hard time focusing solely on his personal trainer’s words: the way she was holding her arms at stomach level meant that they inadvertently pushed her ample chest together and outwards, letting Seojun know that they were bigger than what the outfit initially conveyed. He felt bad for being so distracted by it and was thankfully able to catch most of what Taeyeon said, but the added factor of being completely alone in the building only added to the growing sense of anxiety and resulting self-consciousness he was feeling. When it came time for him to answer, Seojun had to actively wipe his mind from such thoughts, fearing they might leak into his response. “Oh, yeah, I would love to!”

He caught Taeyeon giggling again, a bewildered smile unknowingly forming on his face. “Great! Before we get started, I need to test you to see if you’re eligible. Would you come follow me home?”

Seojun found himself choking on thin air. “Wh—What?”

In the few minutes they spent, Seojun’s mind had already gone wild with fantasies. But not even in the wildest ones would he have dared considering Taeyeon taking him home.

“No? I knew it, it’s too strange to ask a client I just met to follow me home…” the adorable pout adorning her lips and the crestfallen expression on her eyes twisted at Seojun’s heartstrings.

“No! It’s not—” Seojun, with all his might, tried not to get his hopes up. If anything, she just proved herself to have pure intentions. “—it’s not that—well, I mean, it is a little weird, but I still trust you.” Even as disarmingly sexy Taeyeon was, Seojun had his inhibitions. What if she was secretly insane? What if she was just leading him to his doom? Seeing Taeyeon’s elated expression vaporized every last one of thoughts, leaving but one thin strand of doubt and self-preservation lingering. “But, um, what are we going to be doing?”

“Oh, don’t worry! I’m not like a psychopath or a serial killer or anything, it’s just I can’t conduct the test here with what we have.” There was something about her chipper, excited attitude that annihilated that last strand of hesitation. “Oh, and don’t worry about the test, it won’t hurt. In fact, I think you’ll like it quite a bit.”

There it was again. That mysterious, mischievous, sexy gleam in her eyes: a predator eyeing its prey. But as soon as it appeared, so quickly did it disappear, leaving Seojun to wonder if he was just seeing things.

“That sounds great. Are we going right now…?”

She nodded, walking past Seojun, grabbing his hand along the way. His heart skipped another few beats at the feeling of her pillowy, warm hand sliding into his own, her delicate fingers locking around his hand. “Depending on the results of the test, I’ll decide on your training regimen. Did you drive here?”

The question went right over Seojun’s head, too preoccupied with staring at the impossibly smooth hand gripping his. Shortly after, he noticed another more delectable piece of eye candy in the corner of his eyes. His attention summarily shifted towards it: Taeyeon’s softly swaying hips, her shapely butt, molded nicely by the black yoga pants she was wearing, amping up his heartbeat so much he could hear the frantic pumping of the organ in his ears.

Taeyeon’s delightful giggle again reached his ears, Seojun’s concentration breaking, his face turning a deep shade of pink when he looked up to see Taeyeon stopped, head turned around and looking directly at him. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to be rude, I—”

“It’s quite alright.” At this point, Seojun had to be sure it wasn’t just him. That same gleam shone again in her eyes, this time mixed with a bit of a playful sparkle. “Did you like what you see?”

Again, Seojun was left bewildered. Wasn’t Taeyeon about to scream at him for objectifying her? Unless she was attracted to—no, there was no way that was the case.

“Y-Yes,” he admitted, his gaze locked fiercely to the carpeted floor of the empty gym, the tips of his ears undergoing the inferno of his embarrassment and shame. “You have a very nice body.” There was an immense desire to lift his head just a little bit to catch another glimpse of what lay in front of him as they continued walking; it felt as though someone placed a super magnet on his chin and another on the ceiling, but he fought it with every ounce of willpower he had.

This wasn’t like him. Sure, he was a virgin and never had a girlfriend, sure he masturbated regularly to the idols he looked up to, but he was never so disrespectful to a woman when she was right in front of him. What was wrong with him?

“Thank you!” Seojun, again, found himself surprised; Taeyeon’s response of gratitude was so sincere, he almost believed that Taeyeon wasn’t the least bit angry or disgusted or fed up with his behavior. “As I said, did you drive here?”

“No, my apartment is within walking distance.”

Taeyeon nodded in satisfaction, continuing to walk, her hand still firmly linked to his. Seojun let himself get pulled along, his eyes fiercely trained onto the ground, not daring move his eyes up even one millimeter. “We’re taking my car. It’s a bit of a long drive, so I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, I didn’t have any other plans for today.”

“How about tomorrow?”

As often as Taeyeon was catching Seojun off guard, one would’ve thought that there was a point at which he would stop getting surprised. Her follow up question was not that point. “Hm? Tomorrow?” It was only then that Seojun raised his head, making sure to lock his eyes on the silky hair on the back of her head. Wow, it looked so soft, like … no. He wasn’t about to let himself slip down another rabbit hole of fetishization of a woman he met not minutes ago.

“Hmm, never mind~” she sang, pulling the door open, a blast of cold air greeting them. “Let’s just do one thing at a time.”

“Ok.”

Hearing his stiff reply, Taeyeon let out a deeper, fuller laugh—jarring to be sure, but equally adorable and endearing. “Why do you sound so professional?” She turned around, Seojun quickly diverting his gaze. She cupped the hand attached to her with her other hand, rubbing it gently. “Did me catching you staring at my butt embarrass you?” To this, Seojun only gave Taeyeon a curt nod, sending her into another explosion of giggles. “There’s no need to be shy about that! There’s nothing wrong with appreciating a fine ass, even I do that from time to time. Come on, my car’s nearby.”

Hearing her hearty reassurance and her genuine smile was all Seojun needed to open back up; although he still struggled with looking at her while in the car, they made light talk in the hour-long drive to Taeyeon’s residence. In that time, Seojun learned that Taeyeon had already experimented with many different jobs (which reassured him that she wasn’t the early-twenty-something he feared her to be) before settling on this one as a personal trainer, and how she liked the job because it gave her the opportunity to work with people from all walks of life. The idea of Taeyeon working with other men unsettled him, which he knew was bizarre since he had no right to be protective over a woman he didn’t even know last week.

Seojun then shared about his job at an IT products company, how the work was rather mundane but interesting in its own little ways. Upon further prompting, he told her about his education, how he majored in engineering, how he had trouble finding a job at first and how he had to live at his parent’s house because of it, and how relieved he was after finally being able to move out and how going to the gym was the first step of his plan to truly grow into adulthood.

Although her attention stayed on the driving, Seojun could tell Taeyeon was listening attentively by the way she occasionally nodded while he talked and how her gaze landed on him whenever they pulled up to a red light. It was nice, so nice that Seojun had to repeatedly remind himself to not get his hopes up, that Taeyeon was just a really kind woman and that these things didn’t mean she was into him. But it was so difficult, every time their eyes accidentally met and she would shoot him a dazzling smile and his heart would just leap out of his chest, he felt his grip on reality slipping further and further away.

Thankfully, they arrived at her residence before that happened, and when they did, Seojun’s jaw dropped. While it was no mansion, it was certainly bigger than most houses he’s seen before, not to mention how large and fenced off area was: the nearest neighbor had to be at least 500 meters away on each side. “Here we are, home sweet home,” she announced, pulling into the garage. Was she rich? It certainly seemed so. Seojun was just happy Taeyeon didn’t seem to mind his blatant sexual harassment from earlier, lest he spend a few years in jail with the power and influence she could probably wield.

Seojun followed the tiny beauty inside, unable to help but notice a distinct lack of furniture. While the dining room had a table and chairs, the kitchen equipped with stools, there seemed to be not much else: it gave off the vibe of being not very much lived in. Another thing Seojun found a little strange was how completely unaffected the frail-looking woman seemed to be by the cold weather despite wearing clothes that exposed her entire midriff, both shoulders Taeyeon stopped at what appeared to be her living room. “Here we are.”

“Um, should I wait here while you get your things?”

“Hmm?” Taeyeon’s eyes bore into him, so much so that a shudder inadvertently traveled down his spine. “Things?”

“I-I mean, your, um, your, uh, testing … stuff.”

Kang Seojun didn’t know why he suddenly unable to speak, nor did he know why he suddenly felt so uncomfortable and hot. To his chagrin, he could feel his erection spring up with life, to which he uncomfortably shifted under the ardent gaze of the older woman, embarrassment flaring back up.

“Hmm, but I have everything I need,” her voice lowered as she closed in on him, Seojun unable to even stumble backwards, his entire body inexplicably frozen. She raised herself on her toes, placing her head right next to his ear, whispering the final two words, “right here.”

This time, a powerful shiver jolted throughout his body like an electric shock, Seojun letting out a barely audible gasp. Taeyeon’s hands made contact with his arms, a jolt of electricity shooting out from the point of contact, a moan escaping the red-faced man’s lips as she transitioned slowly from rubbing his arm to his shoulders back down to his chest where her supple breasts lightly pressed against him.

“T-T-Tae-Taeyeon, what—what are y-you doi-doing?”

“I’m testing you,” she replied in a soft, sultry voice, her eyes never once leaving Seojun’s downcast ones. “You said you thought I had a nice body, didn’t you?”

At this point, Seojun felt like he barely had the ability to speak, hindered by his arousal and excitement and anticipation, but equally so his anxiety and confusion and embarrassment. There’s no way someone like Taeyeon, someone who undoubtedly could take pick of the litter amongst men she wanted to have sex with, would choose an average person, a virgin, like him. So why him? Was she teasing him?

“Well?”

“Y-Yes…”

“Tell me, Seojun…” her deep, sultry voice almost seemed to echo inside his head. At the moment, he felt no different than what he imagined an injured antelope would feel trying to hobble away from a ravenous lion. “…do you want to feel it?”

Kang Seojun was awkward around women, he would say, but even he had caught onto the signs of what was happening. Even still, hearing the words coming directly out of Taeyeon’s mouth was a completely different matter. It was only then that Seojun locked eyes with Taeyeon, something that proved to be a fatal mistake.

All it took was the one glance, and he felt completely and utterly hypnotized. The rapid pounding in his ear of his heartbeat, the warm feeling of her hands along his chest, her sizable breasts brushing against his upper body, every sensation he was feeling felt like they had been simultaneously amped up to 11 and dulled down at the same time.

“Y-Yes.”

Taeyeon smiled even wider at his response. “What a good boy you are…” she cooed, planting a kiss on his cheek. Seojun flinched, the cheek burning at the point her lips met it, as if someone had poured lava on his face. He didn’t even register that Taeyeon had taken a few steps back until he caught some movement in the corner of his eyes.

Black wings sprouted from her back, unfolding with the sound of a soft flutter, like a bedsheet being unfurled from the dryer, and stretching many arm lengths out on each side. Horns simultaneously sprouted from her head, a thin tail springing out from behind and wound around her legs like a snake. “Mmm,” she groaned, the wings spreading out, following the motion of her outstretched arms, her tail likewise straightening out. When she pulled her arms back in, the wings and tail followed suit. “That’s better.”

In that confusing swirl of emotions he was feeling, fear suddenly joined them. “Wha—Wha—you—your—wings, tail—…are you a demon?”

Taeyeon laughed heartily at Seojun’s completely dumbfounded expression and response. “Mmhm.” Seojun thought he was going to regret making such an accusation and almost tried to take back the words as soon as they left his mouth. What he was not expecting was for Taeyeon to confirm it so quickly. But, despite what he was seeing, despite what was right in front of his eyes, he still couldn’t believe it. “More accurately, a succubus.”

Kang Seojun’s mind spun until he was left light-headed. A succubus? That certainly explained a few things, except for the small detail that they didn’t exist. Succubae were just myths, folklore legends created by lustful men who tried explaining away their infidelity to their wives, or something like that. But they didn’t actually have basis in reality. Right? … But how else was he to explain the body-length, midnight-black wings anchored to Taeyeon’s back, the dark brown horns growing out of her head, and the tail swishing about her feet?

“Come here.”

The way Taeyeon purred the words out struck him; they resonated inside his mind, not so much a suggestion but an order he felt extremely compelled to obey. Seojun felt his feet drag across the floor, his eyes locked onto the winged, tailed, horned woman—demon—before him. He stopped when he felt Taeyeon’s hands reach down to grab his, the tail whipping around and resting on the backside of his legs.

“You smell so sinfully delicious, it was a real stroke of luck that I managed to find you,” Taeyeon cooed while leaning into him, her surprisingly strong tail pulling him forward. The bewildered young man stumbled forward into the seductress’s arms.

Feeling Taeyeon’s breasts more firmly against his body and her hands wrap around his torso went by almost unnoticed by the now properly and utterly terrified man. “Delicious? Wait, you-you’re going to eat me?”

Seeing his wide-eyed reaction, Taeyeon couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “No, silly. I’m a succubus. When I refer to something smelling ‘delicious’, I mean your semen.”

Hearing the word coming from her was one thing, hearing the provocative way she said was another, but realizing the, in retrospect, obvious implications of it positively blew away any semblance of fear he held, his arousal coming back in full force.

He groaned under his breath, the raw amount of lust he was experiencing overwhelming him all at once. “My-my what?”

“Oh, don’t play innocent with me, boy.” Her tone took upon a more playful attitude, a playful smile teasing at her lips. “You’ve been imaging what it’d be like to fuck me since you first laid your eyes on me.” Seojun was speechless, only feeling his ears burn a shade brighter. “I admit that was me trying to prime you, although I was impressed with your ability to quell your thoughts even after I grabbed your hand. Most men wouldn’t be able to resist at that point to the degree you did, you know. Especially not virgins like you.” Usually, Seojun might’ve taken that word as an insult, but there was a certain way Taeyeon said the word, the way she seemed to treat the word with respect and even seemed to revere it somewhat, that made him think otherwise. “I really tried my best—well, almost tried my best, but the most I could get out of you was a couple of stares. That’s impressive; I haven’t seen anyone with as powerful a resistance to me in five centuries, maybe six.”

Seojun didn’t know what it was with Taeyeon’s words, but the confident way she spoke them while holding about her a dignified maturity, Seojun found himself immediately believing them: that she really induced those out-of-character lustful thoughts (which, honestly, Seojun was all too willing to believe; he was willing to take any explanation if it meant that he indeed was not that desperate), that his resistance really was impressive, and that she was at least a few couple of hundred, if not a couple millennia, years old. That certainly explained the mature sophistication she seemed to exude and the supremely confident body posture she always had, even when standing a half head shorter than him.

“I think you should be rewarded for your hard work, shouldn’t you?” Taeyeon’s suggestive purring was too much; Seojun could barely contain himself. He was so aroused, he didn’t know what to do with himself: his knees were shaking, his heart palpitating, his penis painfully erect, the muscles on him limbs tensed, it was like he wasn’t even in control of his own body anymore. However, somehow, he wasn’t jumping her, and found that it wasn’t his own willpower that was holding him back but Taeyeon herself. Taeyeon, who looked to weigh 15 to 20 kilograms less than himself minus the wings and horn, was holding him in place so tightly he couldn’t move a muscle. “Would you like that? For me to reward you?”

It was this that allowed him to understand that Taeyeon was in complete control, and while Seojun might’ve ordinarily been inappreciative of his first sexual encounter with a woman controlling him so thoroughly, the fact that it was Taeyeon meant the thought barely phased him. “Please.”

A wicked grin befell Taeyeon’s face, this time that predatory gleam shining proudly and clearly in her eyes. The lion had finally sunk its powerful teeth into its prey. “Good answer.” Her tail tugged down his pants and boxers in one motion with the strength of two hands, Seojun’s boner springing free, proudly prodding her cottony frame-hugging pants. He didn’t even think about this until just then, but his insecurity about his size popped up along with his erection.

“Sorry, it’s small…”

“Mmm mm,” Taeyeon replied, patting his cheeks reassuringly, “Size doesn’t matter to a succubus. We adjust to our partner’s size. That way, we can enjoy the dick of any man without qualms.”

Maybe it was the simple fact that Taeyeon was reassuring her, or maybe it was the firm way she did so, but Seojun felt the burden of not being able to please her dissipate. “O-Oh, that’s good.”

He suddenly felt a rush of wind and, in the next blink of an eye, Seojun found himself sitting down on the couch that was previously behind Taeyeon, the succubus kneeling between his legs, her hands firmly placed on his thighs, her face situated a good meter or two away from his manhood. Her wings floated behind her in a more tucked position; definitely less intimidating, and now that he was starting to get used to it, a strangely arousing sight. “Mmm, fuck,” the lyrical moan sent another anticipatory wave of arousal into Seojun’s body, “You smell so good, I can’t wait to feel your hot semen down my throat. You better be prepared, Seojun, because I’m going to wring your balls dry.”

His dick strained even harder against his body in reaction to the filthy words leaving Taeyeon’s shimmering, luscious lips. “Shit,” Seojun muttered, his fists clenching tightly at his sides, seeing her eyes clouded in lust trained fiercely onto his veiny cock. He wanted to do nothing more than to take Taeyeon’s head and shove his dick inside her mouth, but with the strength and speed Taeyeon just demonstrated to him, he wasn’t about to take any chances with her.

“Be a good boy and cum lots for me, ok?”

“Wait!” It was while Taeyeon’s hands were closing in onto the hardened organ between his legs that a thought suddenly occurred to him. She stopped, big eyes peering up at him, her tail swishing around in excitement also freezing in place. “I-I’m not forfeiting my soul for this or anything, am I?”

Taeyeon giggled again, tickled by the overactive imagination of her prey. “No, nothing like that; souls are the territory of other demons. All you’ll lose is some semen, which you’ll have replenished by tomorrow night anyway.”

Seojun nodded, Taeyeon taking that as a go-ahead to continue. Her palm was the first thing to make contact with his engorged member, to which Seojun let out a loud moan, his brows furrowing at the sight of her small hand rubbing the length of his shaft, its delicate fingers gingerly making their way around its circumference. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, his legs tensing and his toes curling as another wicked grin appearing on Taeyeon’s face as both hands firmly grasped his cock and gave it a few pumps. “Fuck,” he moaned, unabashed in the ecstatic pleasure shooting up his spine. All the lonely nights spent by himself paled like the light from a firefly to the blazing afternoon sun in the face of the beautiful seductress kneeling before him, her expert hands inducing an amount of pleasure he didn’t realize was possible.

Taeyeon leaned her head over, her wings casting a shadow on his legs, hovering her mouth just centimeters above the swollen tip of his dick, gathering saliva inside her mouth and dribbling it onto the sensitive sex organ. “Ah, shit,” the moan inadvertently escaped Seojun’s lips, the warm liquid slathering onto his cock sending an electric shock into his entire body. A shudder rolled through up his torso and down his arms and legs, his dick twitching in kind at the sudden contact. Taeyeon smiled in satisfaction at his reaction, using her hands to coat his manhood with the viscous, translucent bodily fluid. Seojun moaned again, throwing his head back in pleasure, his fists tightly clenched at his sides, the ecstasy coalescing into the precum that dribbled out of his dick.

Upon seeing this, Taeyeon’s eyes shone with glee. “Oh, how kind of you; an appetizer, just for me?”

Seojun whipped his gaze back down just in time to see Taeyeon’s head dive down, rubbing her hot tongue across the tip, collecting every last drop of pre-ejaculate onto the pink muscle before planting upon it a quick kiss. Seojun hissed, his body jumping at the sensation, his breaths turning into pants. Taeyeon’s hands never once stopped pumping, gliding along the slick length of Seojun’s cock thanks to the lubrication provided by her mouth, her throat flexing as the first bit of her meal traveled down her throat. Taeyeon’s eyes widened, freezing momentarily, her entire body experiencing a rolling shiver of ecstasy. “Fuck, that’s so much better than I imagined,” she groaned, her voice full of lust and impatience. Her eyes crossed, an even more fierce look of lust clouding her facial expression, her hands resuming its prior task with even more ferocity than before. Seojun let out a surprised yelp, another jolt of electricity caused by another wave of ecstatic pleasure causing his entire body to jump. Tilting her head down again, she reapplied the warm lubricant, Seojun jumping again at the feeling of the warm, viscous liquid coating his cock.

“Mmm, you’re so close, I can feel it,” she cooed, her face drawing closer to the erect member trapped inside her warm hands, gliding along its length with ease. “You want to stuff your veiny cock into my mouth and shoot your seed down my throat, don’t you? Wouldn’t you like to do nothing more than to fill my mouth with your hot cum? I offered you a reward previously, but don’t you want to collect it already?”

“Yes, please…” Seojun half grunted, half moaned, his willpower teetering on the edge of abandoning all notion of ‘rationality’ and ‘self-preservation’ to grab the succubus’s head and force it all the way down his pulsating erection.

“Why don’t you do whatever you want with me then~” the smiling seductress sang, the soft, seductive sound seeming to sway about ceaselessly inside his skull.

Taking the suggestion—or directive, Seojun couldn’t tell at this point—as an indication that he could take the reins, both hands shot out and grabbed fistfuls of her silky, silver hair and pushed her face downwards, directly onto his awaiting penis. “Mmph, fuck—” the initial entrance of his penis into the wet warmth of her tight mouth sent a series of ecstatic shudders of pleasure all throughout his body, his fingers tightening around the silky locks of hair, but soon was amplified at the feeling of her skillful tongue wrapping around his length, that warmth from feeling her saliva dribbled onto his cock now spread across the entire surface area of his penis. Her head obediently bobbed up and down with the rhythm of his thrusts, her wings moving in conjunction with their lust-charged movements. “—fuck, god, you’re so good—” he could feel the familiar sensation of a building orgasm on the horizon, the sensation only pushing him to thrust harder and faster into the lustful demon’s mouth, abandoning all pretense of embarrassment for orgasming so quickly. “Taeyeon, shit, I’m close, I’m so—uugh!”

Letting out something between a yell and a moan, Seojun’s hips pushed his cock as far back into the waiting mouth of the satisfied succubus, ropes of his thick semen depositing directly into the back of her mouth and down her esophagus. Taeyeon’s lips were tightly sealed around the perimeter of his cock, her throat flexing impressively as she gulped down every stream of his seed in stride, making sure not to waste a single drop of the immaculate sustenance. Only after the last of his ejaculate emptied into her mouth did she let go of her vice grip of his dick.

Her breath deepened, her wings flaring out, her entire body burning with life, as if someone had just splashed her with a bucket full of ice-cold water as she was about to doze off, her entire being consumed with an even greater lust and desire. Seojun’s grip on the back of her head loosened, his body slumping against the couch listlessly, grimacing as Taeyeon came up for air and licked the entire surface area of his cock one more time for good measure. “Mmm, I haven’t had such a good feast from a human in so long.”

“I’m glad—w-wait, Taeyeon?”

Seojun’s eyes widened as he watched her snake her way up his body, straddling his waist with her luscious thighs, her hands sneaking under his shirt and, with a firm tug, ripped it clean off his upper body. “I want more,” she whispered. It was only when Seojun felt Taeyeon rub her wetness onto his leg that he realized Taeyeon had already taken off her pants, her tail looping behind her and pulling the last bit of clothing left off her body.

“Oh god…” the words spilled out of his mouth, arousal returning with force upon seeing her perky tits spill out of the restrictive material. The combination of that and feeling her hot, sticky juices rubbing dangerously close to his groin caused his erection to flare back to full tilt. Now that they were naked in front of him, adorned at the peaks with pink, hardened nipples, he found himself unable to tear his eyes away. Of course, he had seen boobs in pictures and videos before, but seeing them in person, and that they were Taeyeon’s, was a completely other story.

“You like them?” She teased, shaking her upper body playfully, the bountiful mounds jiggling deliciously in response. Seojun simply nodded, to which Taeyeon replied, “You can have them after giving me a second helping.”

Without warning, Taeyeon lifted her hips and plunged her vagina down onto Seojun’s cock.

“FUCK!”

Seojun’s back arched all the way, his head involuntarily thrown back, the loud sound pushed out of his throat as the surge of pleasure overtook his body.

“Congrats on losing your virginity,” Taeyeon whispered to him, cupping his face gently before pulling him into a fierce kiss.

Seojun felt paralyzed by ecstasy, her soft and warm lips smothering him and massaging his own, the tight, hot walls of Taeyeon’s pussy slathering his already slick cock with other bodily fluids, her vaginal lips depositing her fluids onto his crotch with every hot connection of their groins, drenched with the honey of the domineering woman. Taeyeon’s movements were ferocious, her naked tits pressed firmly into the young man’s bare chest, her lips and tongue overpowering his in an instant, her hips propelling her tiny frame up and down the ex-virgin’s dick. Seojun’s hands naturally found themselves cupping her round, shapely ass, an action that only spurred the succubus on more. Taeyeon’s tail crawled up his right arm, softly guiding the fingers of his right hand towards her puckered, unoccupied hole.

Taeyeon broke the kiss, Seojun barely able to see amidst the sea of pleasure and lust he was drowning in. “Are you ready?”

“For—for what?” The split second after he spoke, he felt the two fingers nearing her other entrance melding together, elongating into what he somehow knew was another penis. “What the fuck?”

“What are you waiting for, my ass isn’t going to fuck itself,” Taeyeon quipped, grinning at the adorable, perplexed reaction of the young man below her.

His arousal soon drowned out his sense of reasoning, and the suggestion was all he needed to completely disregard the anomaly of a second penis inexplicably growing from his two fingers. Instead, he quickly found the unattended hole and plunged it inside.

“Shit, shit shit, fuck, oh my god—” Seojun let out a barrage of swears, the added feeling of Taeyeon’s tight asshole joining the already overwhelmingly pleasurable sensation of her pussy clamping on his cock. Taeyeon’s back arched, pushing her voluptuous breasts further against him.

“Mmm, fuck…” Taeyeon’s melodic moans soon joined the chorus of Seojun’s own moans, adding onto the layer of arousal that was starting to overwhelm his body fatigued by the first orgasm. “…do you want the third one to be a pussy or an asshole?”

Before Seojun could ask, the fingers on his left hand similarly started to meld together, elongating into another firmly erect penis. “Uh, um, I-I don’t know…” He could barely process the question, much less dedicate the brainpower needed to make a decision.

“Hmm, another pussy it is.” Again, her tail guided the newly formed cock into the space just above her asshole, soon meeting another pair of flopping wet pussy lips, eagerly awaiting its guest. Without hesitation, Seojun pushed the third member into her third orifice, the resulting explosion of pleasure causing him to blackout for a brief moment.

“Mmm, you like that? Feeling two pussies and an asshole fucking your cock at the same time? Feeling my hot, tight walls on your dick?” Taeyeon’s hot breath heated up his ear, Seojun rendered completely unable to speak from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure assaulting every fiber of his being. “Your cock is hitting my cervix with each stroke, god, fuck, I feel so fucking full with three of your cocks fucking me so hard. Yeah, hmmph, fuck all of my holes harder Seojun, pump your dick deep inside me and fill all three of my slutty holes with your thick cum.”

While Seojun could feel his arms start to give way, he pushed through. The looming feeling of a following orgasm drove his body wild with adrenaline, his arms burning with the strain of pumping so furiously into the wanton woman. His chest heaved with the huge gulps of air his body demanded, Taeyeon’s erect nipples poking firmly at his skin at the apex of each breath. As he neared his orgasm, he could feel both his own and Taeyeon’s movements grow more erratic. The previously cold room now felt blazing hot, the only sound to be heard being the wet sound of skin slapping against skin, the chorus of their combined moans of lust, and the ruffling sound of Taeyeon’s wings moving in conjunction with the movement of the succubus bouncing ferociously on Seojun’s cock. He could only muster a grunt in warning before he exploded all at once, all three holes sucking up the delectable meal at once.

“Uunggh, fuck,” Taeyeon exploded simultaneously, the ecstasy overwhelming her superhuman senses, her hands vacating the back of Seojun’s head and onto the cushiony backrests of the couch she crushed inside her grip, a tsunami of juices flooding out to match the streams of semen flowing into the satisfied succubus. “God, oh my god, fuck, it’s too much…” she panted, even after Seojun’s orgasm subsided, her entire body burning hot with the acquisition of such fine sustenance.

Seojun, on the other hand, was completely and utterly drained—he lost all ability to move, his untransformed arms dropping to his sides and his head onto the backrest of the couch. It was almost scary, how little strength he had left: it felt like he was half-dead, barely having the strength to open his eyes. He never felt this drained after masturbating, what was going on?

“Ah, fuck, Seojun…” Taeyeon remained panting atop the corpse of a man that remained below her, still trying to take in the influx of ecstasy from the consumption of three simultaneous loads of Seojun’s cum. “…ah, god, I’m going to cum again, holy fuuuck!” The panting moan transformed into an ecstatic scream, another tidal wave of lust and pleasure washing over the demon lost in her own desire. Her body vibrated violently against the lifeless man, sending his cock awash with a second tsunami of her nectar.

When her orgasm finally subsided a minute later, Taeyeon collapsed onto the taller man, her head resting on his shoulder. “Oh my god, I haven’t orgasmed so easily in so many centuries, but never before in my millennia of living have I orgasmed twice from one feeding. You should be proud, Seojun.”

When he didn’t respond, Taeyeon lifted her head to see the lifeless, pale expression in his face. “Oh my god! I—I’m so sorry, I forgot you were—oh my god—…”

When Seojun next regained consciousness, he found himself laying on a soft bed, wrapped up in a warm, thick blanket. His consciousness immediately started to drift off again when he realized that something felt wrong: his bed wasn’t this soft.

His eyes opened and he jolted awake, his eyes scanning his environment to find a naked Taeyeon laying beside him, watching him with a bemused expression. “Good morning, Seojun,” her honey warm voice eased the panic in his voice. It wasn’t long before he found his eyes drifting onto her perky tits and the firm, pink nubs sitting atop their peaks, feeling his erection starting to grow once again. Noticing this, Taeyeon giggled, sitting up along with the equally naked man. “You really like my tits, don’t you?”

He blinked, turning his head away, his face red. “Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize, you can look at them all you want,” she insisted, her soft hand reaching out and gently caressing his cheek. Seeing Seojun’s eyes close with content like a puppy cuddling up to its owner brought a smile to Taeyeon’s face. “I’ve decided. Why don’t you become my pet?”

The idols that are to appear on this story are something that you can influence! If that is something you're interested in, go to this link and scroll down a little to the 'Foreword' and follow the instructions listed.

Otherwise, lemme know what you thought, and thanks for reading!

Link to next chapter here.

[6okuto]

bf headcanons for tsukki pls?

TSUKISHIMA RELATIONSHIP HCS

gn!reader | happy birthday tsukki...🫶🫶

king of saying "no" when you ask for a favour while doing it. you'll ask him to pass your glass of water and he'll say no but, without even looking, slide it to you

(risky) umbrella holder. like he Will hold it for the both of you, but he'll move away from and taunt you if you try to annoy him sometimes

^ likes it when you help dry his hair once you both get inside but he doesn't say that. though he doesn't really have to when he's falling asleep while you comb your hands through his hair

remembers if you have meds to take, an appointment coming up, etc. usually won't just bring it up to check with you, but will mention it while planning for things or if he notices you feel off

"guys will take the ugliest photos of you and think they're amazing" no he definitely knows which ones are objectively just like, not good. to be fair he Does find some of them pretty cute Despite how blurry/bad you might look

flips between an awful and good photo of you for your contact photo. you think it's Just the awful one until you check his phone one day and find out he does in fact have good photos of you which is crazy i know!

the guy who keeps getting all the upgrades and tools while gaming except he doesn't share with people. one of his only exceptions is you (sometimes you do have to threaten him though /lh)

also helps You study if no one else. kei is actually pretty good at figuring out the study methods best for you, and manages to quiz you on things you might have overlooked

wordlessly walks up behind you and waits for you to notice. will stand there in silence for like 10 seconds then makes fun of you for not realizing or laughs when you get scared

kei isn't really one to initiate pda, but if he sees his teammates (jealously) looking at you guys, he might put his arm around your shoulder, or talk about date plans just to be annoying. lol.

goes red if you come to watch his game and cheer, but uses it as motivation. < the rest of the team Will keep teasing him and Also using it to motivate him like "better look extra cool today, huh?" "you better not mess up today, tsukishima!"

! teaming up with everyone to tease him. give him a taste of his own medicine fr. and if he tries to throw anything back one of them can just go "tsukishima, is that how you treat your partner?" As if he's said something any more insulting than usual

of course he makes height jokes if you're shorter and not super bothered by them. Of course. at the very least, you can make it his responsibility to look above crowds, reach things for the both of you, etc in return

assumes he'd be the bigger spoon and is surprised if you pat the bed for him to be hugged instead. he finds it a little awkward, but to be fair he's awkward around all physical affection/cuddling in the first place. it takes time, but kei comes to appreciate being taken care of/held, though if anyone were to find out he'd want to poof out of existence for a bit

i think one cute trend that would really work on him is the one where you pretend your sweater smells weird, and when they bend down to smell too, you kiss their forehead. kei is about to tease you and ask if you made sure to throw it into the laundry, and immediately freezes when he feels your lips on his skin. he sits up and looks away and says you're annoying or whatever, but his cheeks are so so red

if you're one to wear one of his sweaters, or maybe just hold it while you're at his house, he either teases you for being needy or goes "is that my sweater?" and then does nothing about it. sometimes he won't even say anything. if you pay attention he'll be wearing whatever it was the next time you see him, and makes it a habit to leave something on his bed for you to grab

if kei sees you talking to his brother he Will try to drag you away or try (fail) to stare discretely. who knows what stories akiteru will tell you, or what you're both scheming.

anytime akiteru asks him about his relationship or how you're doing and does the whole older brother "you're growing up so fast" spiel, he wishes he could melt into a puddle

big quality time fan. if you're one to not be comfortable with physical affection, kei totally understands and is great with that. there's a lot of days where you guys just hang out in one of your rooms, go out to eat or see a performance, etc and as long as you guys are enjoying yourselves, that's all you need

....bad at flirting. like flirting that isn't you guys teasing/insulting each other back and forth. one time the guys were trying to "help him with his game" while texting you and he physically struggled to type their suggestions so he just turned off his phone and said he should block all of them. the most you'll usually get from him is energy of like, "you want me so bad it makes you look stupid" LOL

he tells you that celebrating his birthday isn't a big deal, and that you really really do not,, should not,, make it one. but if you're dating, it means you know him well enough to realize he Does appreciate gifts, and people caring about him.

he gets embarrassed and awkward when people sing happy birthday but who doesn't really. he stares at the cake you custom ordered or made yourself, and tries to ignore how loud everyone is singing. his eyes widen when you explain how much thought you put into your gift(s), and though he struggles with words, he thanks you and takes care to put it somewhere safe until he can appreciate it alone.

[gyalwtf]

how can you not see it?

how do we feel about the new banner style??

Details ; Aj Shabeel × (shorter)fem!reader. reader also has a channel of her own btw

Warnings ; swearing, aj is a meanie, this guy is INLOVE

Aj being the menace he is, and you being the most gullible person in the world was surely a recipe for disaster. I guess that's his way of affection. He's actually so mean, but he doesn't want you to know he means it lovingly, like romantically lovingly.

The amount of times he's told you the most bewildering piece of information ever, only then to follow with, “you fucking idiot, I was lying!” or a “no.” whenever you asked if he was really telling the truth, all while laughing at you of course.

Niko, the unhelpful best friend he is, always teases him about you, right to your face, completely dumping his efforts of trying to keep his feelings away down the drain. It's not like Aj isn't obvious either, like you could tell from a mile away that something was odd with how he acted with you. I mean, you couldn't tell, but everyone else could.

The amount of times he was called out during a beta squad shoot — where you were invited as the guest, for staring at you was absolutely outrageous, but you know what's worse? You thought it was a joke! You thought that, ‘oh they need to stop bullying Aj for shit he didn't do,’ when he was literally just staring at you the entire time instead of paying attention.

There isn't a single universe he doesn't bully you for your height, like how are you shorter than him?! Seriously, how. Also brings you up every time someone calls him shorter, always yapping about how you're shorter or whatever. It's really funny. It's also funny that he absolutely violates you with his insults, but always also defending you whenever someone tries to insult you. Not direct defending, but more like saying that they're worse than you and blah blah blah.

It feels like everyone in the beta squad — and their other friends as well, know about Aj's crush, crazy how you don't know. You know what the biggest giveaway is though? His pet peeve is physical touch, where the hell did that pet peeve go when he's around you. He isn't necessarily having physical touch with you a lot, but if you ever tried to initiate out of the blue, he didn't exactly deny it.

He's such a cutie. One time you tied up his hair into pigtails for whatever reason, he thought he looked ridiculous and everyone laughed at him, and you also did cause he looked adorable you couldn't lie. He would never actually admit it, but he wants you to play around with his hair again, he really liked it.

Absolutely no way you don't have one of his silly hats. Like, one time in a video, he brought a new one, and at some point you took his hat. Like just straight up went, “don't mind if i do!” he didn't mind of course, maybe just acted like he did but he let you wear it the rest of the video. He definitely 'forgot' to take it back — he wanted you to keep it, something about you wearing his hat, and keeping it made him feel funny, and when you texted him about it, he said not to worry and to just keep it. So that was his plan hm.

Following the last paragraph, the clip where you took his hat became one of the main intros to many ship edits of you both. Funfact: he watches those ship edits. For sure, secretly smiling like an idiot when he watches them. However, the comments he leaves say otherwise, like he replies with full on “oh hell nahhhh” but there was this one time that a fan got him to watch one while he was streaming. He couldn't hide a smile from forming on his face, no matter how hard he tried. Unsurprisingly, that also became an edit intro.

Definitely has you come over sometimes to stream with him, or to hangout whenever you both aren't busy. What a coincidence that Niko is somehow always out when you come over, Aj tells you he's busy, but Niko would tell you he wants you both to have some alone time. Streams with you are just full of teasing and bullying. Apparently, that's both of you guys' love languages.

You wouldn't trade him for the world. His blonde highlights, evil ass but also cute most of the time smile, his funny personality, the way he speaks, the way he acts around you, and everything else, is all so important to you. Especially that hat you stole from him.

Was gonna post this on tuesday, but i accidentally posted it now. Whoops. Hope you guys enjoyed it though! First Aj fic aaaagh.

© gyalwtf 2024 - please do not repost, translate or copy any of my works on other platforms without permission.

[ihavethedreamies]

Birthday Surprise | Baekhyun

Byun Baekhyun - EXO

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~3.5k

Pairing: Baekhyun x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Fluff, Smut, Cute, Sweet

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Kissing, Bit of Swearing, Oral (F! Receiving), Fingering, Wall Sex, Unprotected Sex (Don't!)

Author's Note: This a story requested by/written for my friend @sadfragilegirl! I hadn't written something to post for EXO yet. It’s a little early for her actual birthday, but she didn't mind, so here is this as well~

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

Sighing again, you found your eyes drifting to your phone again. Tapping the screen, there were still no new notifications. You understood with the time difference and his busy schedule that your boyfriend didn't always have a second to spare and reply. You didn't take it personally; it just was hard when you missed him as much as you did. The first week of a tour was always the hardest, but then it would get easier. After time passed though, the harder and harder it would get again. At least with Baekhyun's solo career, he was gone for a shorter time than with the whole group. You also never kept close track of his tours, only what he would tell you. It was too difficult to watch the fancams others would post, because they got to be there and not you. You had to work yourself though and couldn't go with him.

Another sigh left your lips and you reluctantly went back to watching the show on the TV. You didn't even remember what you had put on initially, but it had changed. Your phone dinged and you nearly gave yourself whiplash looking at it, but your shoulders slumped. Your food was there. Grumbling, you got up from the couch, shuffling in your slippers to the door. When you opened the door, there was the food you ordered and you grabbed the bag, but there was something else too. A box was set next to your food, and it looked like it might have been there before. It was white with a red ribbon and a red envelope stuck to it. Picking it up with your other hand, it wasn't very heavy, you headed back inside. You hadn't ordered anything…

Setting the bag of food down on the dining table, you plucked the envelope off the box, a bit of the paper tearing from where it was taped on. Your name was on it, but that was it, no address, yours or otherwise. Pondering what the heck it could be, you gently tore the envelope open, pulling the card out. Your eyes widened, then stung a bit as tears sprung to your eyes. You recognized the handwriting immediately.

Hello, Sweetheart, I'm sorry I haven't been able to talk with you the way we both want, or as often. It's harder for me to leave you at home whenever I do, even more than it is for you, believe it or not. Everything I saw wherever I went that reminded me of you, I bought. I know your birthday is tomorrow, but you'll have to wait for the presents when you see me. I did prepare a surprise though. There is a dress in the box, please wear it and a driver will come to pick you up tomorrow night at 7 pm. I miss you, and happy early birthday. ~Love, Baekhyun

You sniffed, trying to hold the tears back, feeling foolish. Why did you want to cry so hard? You wondered though what the heck he had planned. Did he set up a party or something for you so you wouldn't notice his absence as much? Finally going to the box that came with the card, you opened it and removed the tissue paper inside to see the dress. A huff of surprise left your mouth, that did not look cheap. Flipping the tag over to see the brand, you were then for sure. It was a beautiful, light blue, bouffant-style dress, the fabric had a dull sparkle throughout and was made from a smooth silk. Of course it was just your size.

"Oh, Baek…" You sniffed again, holding the dress up to yourself, wondering what shoes you were going to wear.

"Are you (Y/N)?" The sharply dressed man standing by a very nice black car asked you. You nodded, and he opened the door for you. You smoothed your dress down when you got in, adjusting it as you sat to keep it looking nice. It hit you right at the knees and you paired it with a simple set of gold kitten-heels. You had curled and put your hair up and added some gold jewelry to finish off the look. The driver got back in the car and began to head in the direction of the fancy part of town. You fiddled with the strap of your bag, watching the buildings and lights pass. Maybe ten minutes later, the car pulled into the entrance of an extremely fancy hotel. You had guessed it was a party, but maybe it would be a meal in the restaurant?

"Have a Happy Birthday, Miss (Y/N)." The driver smiled, opening the door for you and you shyly thanked him, once again adjusting your dress as you entered the lobby.

"Are you Miss (Y/N)?" one of the hoteliers asked as the automatic doors slid closed behind you.

"Yes."

"Please, follow me." She smiled, motioning for you to do so, leading you to the elevators. You got in and she pulled a card out of the pocket of her vest, sliding it into the reader of the elevator, then pressed the button for the roof.

"Have a Happy Birthday, Miss (Y/N)." She smiled once again, and the elevator doors closed, heading straight up. You were feeling a bit overwhelmed with the glitz and glam of the night already. You knew that your boyfriend was an international celebrity and had been for years, granting him plenty of clout and capital, but this…

The elevator doors opened, a polished hallway leading to a set of glass doors, and presumable, the rooftop venue. You couldn't see anything pass the doors, not even lights, just those in the distance of nearby buildings. Tilting your head a bit in confusion, you walked forward, heels clicking on the floor. When you got to the door, you for some reason felt your heart surge. Resting your hand on the handle, you took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping out into the night breeze.

"Surprise!" You startled, only somewhat unprepared. The lights had come on, the pop of confetti poppers and loud cheering welcomed you. It was hard to hide your smile, seeing all of your and Baekhyun's friends.

"(Y/N)!" An extremely loud voice heralded the action before you registered it, then found yourself engulfed by a Chanyeol. You let out an 'oof' as he hugged you, you rocked back on your feet from the force of his hug.

"Let her go!" Kyungsoo huffed, hitting the other one on the back, who recoiled in an overdramatic fashion. You shot the smaller man a grateful look, but then they both looked behind them. You couldn't see over them, but when they moved-

"Baekhyun!" You beamed, tears once again hitting your eyes and he caught you when you dashed forward.

"Hi, sweetheart." He hugged you close and you heard various voices coo at the reunion, "Happy Birthday." He kissed your forehead when you finally pulled away, then scoffed.

"Hey, you'll ruin your mascara." He swiped his thumb over your cheek and you sniffed.

"I…I knew you had probably planned a party or something, but I didn't know you would be here too!" Your smile brought out his own and you hugged him again as he chuckled.

"Ah, what?!" He shouted suddenly and if you hadn't known him for as long as you did, the volume would have startled you. He turned to look behind him aggressively only to have Minseok whisper something in his ear after hitting him to get his attention.

"Oh, right." He calmed down and Baekhyun pulled away from you some.

"I did not time everything right, so we're going to eat now, then do the rest." Your boyfriend smiled, leading you over to the table set up in front of all the others.

"The rest?" you asked, sitting down in the seat he pulled out for you. He joined you and everyone else was sitting at their own respective tables. He pointed to the side at a table piled with gifts and you gaped.

"You guys!" You spoke loud enough, lacing fake annoyance in your tone and your guests laughed.

"Kyungsoo picked out the menu." Baekhyun told you, servers coming out with the food. It was all of your favorites and tasted amazing. When everyone was done with the meal and plates were cleared, another group of servers came out with a beautiful two-tier cake. The rested it gentle on the table in front of you and lit the candles before excusing themselves with a bow.

"Make a wish, sweetheart." Baekhyun wrapped his arm around your shoulder, kissing the crown of your head and you pressed your hands together, eyes closed. Let it be that I can stay happy with him, forever. You blew out the candles and everyone clapped and cheered and then the real part of the party began. Another set of chairs were at the gift table, so you moved over.

"Half of these are from you!" You sent a look to your boyfriend who chuckled a bit.

"So? Just start!" He brushed it off and you started. You got a lot of things like skincare, makeup, and other such toiletries. There were some stuffed animals, a few sets of earrings, a few nice perfumes and a tennis bracelet. Like you said, half of it literally was from him, several different countries were the origin of many. One of the boxes you opened, you slammed closed immediately, face heating. You sent him a side-glare and he seemed to realize what you had opened.

"Oh, uh, you can do that one later." He grabbed it from you, setting it on the pile and hoping no one noticed that it was purposefully hidden.

"It works with a phone app, from anywhere…" He whispered in your ear and you wanted to interrogate him further but decided to do it later. After the presents were opened and the cake cut, you finally got to eat it. Trying not to make a mess with the frosting, you enjoyed the champagne that was brought out as well. People were already dancing in the large open area in the middle of the rooftop venue, and when another nice, slow song started, Baekhyun grabbed your hand.

"I thought it would be weird if we danced to one of my songs." He whispered to you as he brought you to the dance floor. It was the second slow song, but you understood why he did that. While he literally danced for a living, you were not nearly as graceful nor practiced as him. You set your hand in his, the other on his shoulder, his other hand resting on your waist.

"Just, follow the rhythm." He coached as you danced, several of your other friends dancing with their significant others. You smiled as you passed Jongdae with his wife, somewhat envying what they had. That was something to think about later though.

"I think you got something on your-" Baekhyun brought your attention back to him and he smirked before quickly kissing the corner of your mouth and you scoffed.

"Geez." You couldn't help but smile, resting your head on his shoulder as you swayed. When the song faded to a close, you reluctantly pulled away from him, but his hand stayed linked with yours.

"Yeol!" He shouted, catching his friend's attention. He flashed an 'ok' gesture and Chanyeol sent a thumbs up back and you frowned a bit. What were they planning?

"Come with me." He looked like a kid in a candy store, a wide grin spread over his pretty face and you followed after him as he led you inside. Chanyeol had started something on the little stage set up for the band, everyone's attention focused there.

"I was going to wait till after, but I can't." Baekhyun told you, pulling you with him through the only door of the rooftop shelter other than the one outside or the elevator. It was a small staging room it seemed, there was mostly just extra tables and chairs. When you turned toward him to ask him what he was talking about, his lips captured yours, and your words slipped into a whine. Your back hit the wall by the door, hands flying up to his shoulders and up the nape of his neck into his hair. One of his arms wrapped around you, hand on the small of your back, the other on the wall to steady you both. You were glad you chose a lip stain rather than lipstick since none of it transferred over to him. You sighed and his tongue slipped into your mouth, his leg coming between yours, pressing his thigh against your covered mound. You moaned, letting him pull back from the kiss reluctantly. His lips kissed the corner of your mouth again, then down to your jaw, and further to your shoulder. The off-shoulder sleeves left plenty of skin open, so he took the chance and sank his teeth in slightly. You tried to hold back your moan, not sure how soundproof the room was, grinding down on his thigh between yours. It had been way to long, and the little points of contact through the night were not nearly enough.

"How am I going to get out of here?" You scolded lightly as he moved across your collarbone, having most likely already left three or four marks.

"You can use my coat." He offered quickly, barely pulling his lips off your skin to speak, also removing said item. Baekhyun rolled his sleeves up, lips finding yours again. When his task was done, you giggled as he lightly smoothed his hand up your thigh. His finger hooked over the hem of your panties, snapping the elastic. You squeaked slightly when he pressed into you, pinning you into the wall further, teeth nibbling your ear lobe, licking over the golden hoops you had in.

"You're already wet?" He gave a huff of smugness and you just hummed, exhaling in bliss when his fingers ran through your soaked folds.

"Baek-!" You were going to try and rationalize your state, but it was a moot point because your breath left when he sank his finger inside you. You were tighter than usual, not even having been able to get off yourself, you needed Baekhyun. The remote vibrator he bought you made more sense then. By the time he added his second finger, spreading them to get you ready, there were probably three more marks on your upper chest. Your little mewls were obviously getting to him, but the night was for you, not him. He stopped his fingers and you wanted to protest, but he was sinking to his knees.

"Oh." You whispered, letting him gently pull your panties down and over your feet, tucking them in his back pocket. You would have scolded him, but all words left as he buried his tongue inside your wanting pussy.

"Baek!" You shuddered, slumping further into the wall, hands on his shoulders to stabilize yourself. He tried not to laugh at your squeal as he hiked one of your thighs up and onto his shoulder to get you open more for him. His tongue left your core, flicking at your clit, two fingers finding home inside you again. Your walls fluttered around the digits and he could tell you were close. With one more crook of his fingers, and kiss to your clit, you came and he helped you ride it, eagerly lapping at your essence flowing down his hand. By the time the waves of your orgasm faded, you were shaking and he smirked, standing while licking off his fingers. You noticed his hardened cock straining against his dress pants, fingers finding the zipper.

"Wait-"

"Can't. Do it better later." You insisted and he wasn't going to argue. Just as soon as you freed him, the head of his cock was at your entrance and he pushed in. Your gummy walls pulsed around him; the stretch stung from you going to so long without him. The same leg he had over his shoulder he held up over his elbow and you were so glad you were flexible. His thrusts were shallow and hard, trying to get to the crest for both of you fast so he could get you back to the hotel room and fuck you properly.

"Shit, Baekhyun." Your breath came out in pants, trying to stay quiet, but it was hard. Your peak was getting close again, your tight core around his cock felt like heaven, so he was close too.

"Come on, sweetheart. Cum for me." His sweet voice in your ear was all it took and he had to still as you came. He let go as well, the squeeze too good. Catching your breath, you startled when someone knocked on the door hard. Baekhyun must have taken it as a signal for something, because he got himself fixed up and let you have his suit jacket to cover your shoulders. In the low light he could see the rising deep red and purple welts, a few with light teeth marks.

"Okay, lets go."

"What-?"

"Yeol got everyone distracted, so now you don't feel good, so we're leaving!" He grinned like a goof and you scoffed, shuffling after him to the elevator. Chanyeol seemed to be guarding the door, back to you, and you giggled as the lift doors closed. Your boyfriend looked at you, his hair a bit messy and you both laughed. He still had your panties in his pocket… When the elevator got to the floor for the room he booked, you slipped out, slinking past a group of what looked like college guys walking down the hall. You held his jacket over you tighter, following Baekhyun as he led you. When he had gotten you into the hotel suite, your giggles turned into a full laugh, and he couldn’t help but join.

"Come on, sweetheart. The bed is all ready…"

After unwrapping you like you were a present, he sat behind you on the bed, leading you to rest your back to his chest.

"What are we doing?" You asked, letting his hands on your hips guide you. He sat on his knees, having you straddle his lap and he sank lower as you settled on him, cock filling you back up. Sighing at the feeling of him inside you again, he kissed over your shoulders again, sucking another mark at the base of your ear. Resting your head on his shoulder, his hands guided you to grind down onto him, the angle had the head of his cock right in the best spot, rubbing and pressing you into a tizzy. You wondered why it felt so much more intense than normal, more intimate.

"You looked so beautiful tonight. I knew the dress was perfect." His voice, low and soft in your ear seemed to vibrate over you and your hips stuttered through the rhythm you both had set. Baekhyun leaned back a bit more, you followed since you were resting on him, and the shift let him slide in even deeper and you gasped at the rapidly rising pleasure.

"I loved hearing you laugh in person, being able to hold you." One of his hands slid up over your stomach, cupping your breast.

"Feel your soft skin, kiss you, taste you…" You whimpered, his hips shifting to meet yours, thrusting up to meet your rolling hips.

"Wanna see you…" You whined and he hummed, smirking.

"Okay, sweetheart." While you were not pleased that he pulled out, you were quickly filled back up when your back hit the bed. His hands wrapped around yours when they went to cup his jaw, mouth meeting yours again. Linking your fingers, he pinned your hands up by your head with his, pulling back just enough so your lips still brush slightly. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, and he snapped his hips hard, picking the pace up immediately. You couldn't hold back your moans, writhing in pleasure under him, the bed frame groaning from the force. You wanted to touch him too, but his hands on yours prevented it. He smirked against your lips, switching to using his one hand to hold both your wrists in place. The free hand gripped your thigh, shifting your leg up higher so he could get even deeper inside of you. It was hard for you to get out anything intelligible other than his name and your orgasm was rising faster than you anticipated.

"God, you're so beautiful. I love you so much, (Y/N)." His pace was stuttering, the vice of your core sending him closer to the edge as well.

"Love you too~" You managed to get out and your voice crested into a high moan as you fell over the edge. He groaned himself, spilling inside, filling you with warmth and swallowing your noises with a sealing kiss.

"Happy Birthday, sweetheart." Baekhyun smiled warmly and you giggled tiredly.

"You really didn't have to do so much…" You pouted playfully and he hummed, shaking his head.

"I did. I love you, and whenever I'm gone for so long, so far away, you're all I think about. I honestly wish I would have done more.”

Master-Master List

[meowzfordayz]

"fake" date — mitsuri, kyojuro, sanemi, giyuu

Author’s Note: initially planned to write a Giyuu x Reader one shot for this trope, but enough ppl voted for Hashira preferences that my plans changed. 😉 Pls and ty enjoy ~shorter snippets for Mitsuri, Kyojuro, and Sanemi + something a lil more fleshed out for Giyuu. 🤗 Varying degrees of angst ahead!

“fake” date — mitsuri, kyojuro, sanemi, giyuu

Kanroji Mitsuri x Reader, Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader, Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader, Tomioka Giyuu x Reader

Word Count: ~1,900

CW: explicit language, mild sexual content

~faqs~

“You look amazing!” Mitsuri gushes, eyes wide with their usual shimmer.

You step sheepishly through your bedroom doorway into the hall where she waits, stare fixed firmly on your sock clad feet.

“Aren’t you going to be cold though?” her voice dips with concern, “I’m sure they’d understand if you wore thicker socks. They’ll be covered by your shoes anyway.”

“I mean,” you shrug, finally glancing up at the warmth in her face that you’ve felt since the day you met, “The ceremony and reception are inside. I can survive in these from the Uber to the entrance.”

Grinning teasingly, she strides over to you, tugging on your overcoat with familiar care, “I don’t know, someone’s feet are always freezing when we watch movies together.”

“And someone else is a blanket hog,” you huff, mesmerized by the delicate imprint of her fingertips — that you know are just as capable of grabbing and tossing you over her shoulder.

Well I like when you snuggle closer to me she almost declares, cheeks reddening as she ducks her head aside, feigning an itchy nose.

“You’re sure it’s okay for me to come?”

The quiver of fear restricting her words coaxes you in, hand mindlessly grabbing hers as you nod reassuringly.

“Of course! They gave me a plus one. I guarantee I wouldn’t hear the end of it if I showed up alone.”

“So I’m doing you a favor?”

Her question tremors with the faintest of insincerity. You ignore it. It’s understandable, after all. Weddings are cumbersome and awkward and often far too fanciful.

“Absolutely, Mitsuri! I owe you one. And you look beautiful too!”

You’re still holding her hand, clammy and comforting as ever.

—

Her heart aches as she watches you stand in line, tiny buffet plate balanced lazily on your palm, overhead lights bathing you in a soft, unbearable glow.

And you look beautiful too!

She licks her lips, wishing she could ask you to dance.

I owe you one.

Wishing she could ask you to dance, and that you would finally realize what she was really promising.

“So… you’re asking me to go to your family’s Thanksgiving as your date, but not actually your date?”

Kyojuro hopes he doesn’t sound too disappointed, well acquainted with masking his simmering feelings beneath an exterior of exuberance and forwardness.

“Mhm,” you nod, resisting the urge to bite down on your tongue.

You’d love if not-actually-your-date was actually-your-date, but you’d hate even more to ruin your years of ease and friendship.

“But they know we’re friends?”

His head cocks with faux confusion, and you nearly coo at his cuteness. To you, his confusion isn’t pretend — you yourself aren’t entirely sure how you’re going to convince your nosy family members.

“Friends can get close,” you wink playfully, nudging his bicep as if to prove your point.

“How close are we talking?” Kyojuro quips, nudging you back harder.

He relishes in getting to steady you, warm hands wrapping large and protective around your shoulders, righting you before you keel too far off balance.

“Are you going to help your friend out or what?” you scowl jokingly, dramatically brushing your shoulders, knowing you’re going to feel the heat and strength of his touch for hours.

“Of course I’m going to help you! I just-”

His eyes widen involuntarily, and you notice that they stir a peaceful longing in you more deeply than any sunset ever has.

“You just?” you prod, pulse quickening at the prospect of something else.

What else, you have no idea. But sunlight slips through the crack nonetheless.

“Nothing,” Kyojuro grunts, “I forgot!”

You exhale slowly, emotions unfurling as you return to your soft, sunsetless reality.

“Alrighty then.”

“We’re not gonna fool anyone into thinking we’re dating,” Sanemi grimaces, brow furrowed as you take in his reaction.

“And why not?” you retort, arms crossed as you glare back, “The only person who knows you better than me is Genya. Maybe.”

And nobody knows me better than you.

Eyes darting from your lips to your glare, he sighs, jaw tight as he mutters, “Because we’ve never even kissed. What kind of couple, what kind of chemistry, would we have?”

You’re grateful he rambles on, because you almost quip So let’s kiss dumbass.

“Terrible chemistry,” he answers himself, “We would have terrible chemistry. If you really need a date to that holiday party, then you should ask Obanai.”

“OBANAI?!” you screech, too fixated on his horrible plan B to notice his pre emptive wince, a beat before you’d actually processed his suggestion, “You mean a man who’s already in a relationship?!!!”

“Yeah,” Sanemi deadpans, “Low risk.”

He hopes you can’t see how deeply his foot is inserted into his mouth.

“What the hell does that mean?” you hiss, “I sure as fuck haven’t kissed him!”

“Mitsuri would probably be amendable.”

He hopes you can’t hear him choking on his foot, gasping for air.

“To me kissing her boyfriend?!”

Ah shit.

“I’ll do it!”

That shuts you up. You blink, mind blank as you stare at him staring at you staring at him. His hair looks nicer than usual, fluffy with a light scent of dampness as though he’d showered prior to coming over. And his gaze, so strikingly mellow — drenched in lavender and longing. No you correct yourself, the longing is in your own unwavering expression, reflected in the glassiness of his pupils, mirroring the tension in your shoulders.

“Do what?” you murmur Kiss me?

And he nearly does, feet planted firmly on the worn tile of your kitchen, chest heaving as the weight of your question clings to his lungs. He nearly does. Nearly kisses your sarcastic tongue, the hazy drop of your eyelids, the way your body seems to lean toward him as he teeters toward you. Nearly.

“I’ll be your stupid date,” he mumbles.

“You are stupid,” you smile weakly, abruptly shifting your attention to your now lukewarm mug of tea Takes one to know one.

“I don’t understand,” Giyuu says, spine stiffening as he sits on your couch, “You want us to… fake, date?”

Of all the favors you could ask him for, why did it have to be a fake date? He would happily give you a real date, thank you very much.

“Not like! More than once! Just once! For my family reunion! They’re awful and boring and everyone older than like, fifty, asks me if I’m seeing anyone. My answer is always no and their response is always harassment and I…” you trail off, suddenly conscious of your rambling, cheeks hot as you mumble, “I care about my family and I want to attend, but I don’t want to be alone.”

I don’t want to be lonely.

“Have you ever thought that you could be the problem?”

You gape at your best friend, well accustomed to his poorly worded concern, but flabbergasted by his lack of tact regardless.

“GIYUU!”

He winces at your exclamation, quickly backtracking when he notices just how shiny your eyes are getting.

“I’m sorry, I know, that’s not what I meant,” he swallows thickly, fingers in knots in his lap as his mouth twists, “Will we need a backstory? A photo album of our entanglement thus far? Or will it be our first date?”

“Well,” you chew on your bottom lip, struck by his thoughtfulness, clammy at the realization that you wouldn’t need to create a fake photo album because your camera roll is mostly you and him anyway, “Most people don’t take their partner to a family reunion as their first date.”

“Unless they don’t like them and are trying to scare them away,’ Giyuu deadpans, wry glint in his gaze.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just not date them?” you drawl, apprehension subsiding as amusement bubbles.

“Are you trying to scare me away?” he quips, legs crossing and then uncrossing as his posture slowly relaxes, “Because I’ll play the part,” gut roiling even as his heart urges him forward, “In the name of our friendship, I shall gladly date you,” releasing the tip of his tongue from the clench of his teeth, “Just once.”

You cheer exaggeratedly, hands clapping together loudly, foot bumping against his thigh from your end of the couch. He doesn’t seem to register your touch, distracted by your palpable relief, the disappearance of the stress crinkles at your temples, drowning in the sensation of What have I done?

—

If there’s one thing he’s grateful for, it’s the fact that you invited him to an arguably lackadaisical event. Not because Giyuu loathes wearing a suit and tie, but because he’d likely lose the ability to articulate himself reasonably were you to be dressed up. He’s seen you in nice attire, sure, but never as your fake date; never under circumstances so close to the sun — positively burning in its radiance.

“Your parents,” he stops mid stride, front door to your aunt’s house looming despite its normal dimensions, “Won’t they-”

“They know, they know,” you interrupt, practically shushing him, pushing your impending panic to the bottom of your stomach as you nudge him along, “They won’t tell on us.”

Tell on us the wording sits sour in his mouth, eager to lessen your burden and lonesome, yet resentful of its restrictions and underlying truth of the matter.

“Hey,” he murmurs, puffing out a wisp of hesitation before swiveling to face you, “You’re going to be fine, I won’t let you down.”

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, the gesture more intimate than he intended, your heartbeat bumbling frantic and stunned in your throat.

“O-okay,” you manage to croak, rooted in place until he carefully tugs you back into action  I know that.

Or maybe he meant to steal your breath away?

—

Giyuu is awkward. So awkward that your overwhelming anxiety gradually fades to the background as you watch him interact with your family. You can’t tell whether it’s accidental or on purpose, but he’s doing a great job at simultaneously alarming and charming your aunts, uncles, cousins, in-laws, once-removed-s, etc. His stubborn decorum and distaste for small talk make for an interesting clash of bound-by-honor and get-me-the-fuck-out-of-here, his introversion rearing its head every time he abruptly walks away mid sentence.

“What are you doing?” you giggle, poking his shoulder with mirthful fondness.

“I got bored, so I moved on,” he shrugs, nagging discomfort spurning him on to clarify, “But I only do that with conversations! Not with relationships!”

Not with you.

You snort, endeared by the flustered pink of his ears, “I know babe, not with relationships.”

He supposes your suggestive eyebrow waggle is meant to be teasing—a playful nod to the fakeness of it all—but he’s stuck on Babe, jaw twitching as you intertwine your fingers with his in an electrifying, wonderful, horribly casual manner.

“How about we check out the charcuterie board?” you grin, pecking his earlobe so softly that he wonders if you’d practiced the night before.

Perhaps on your wrist or your pillow, or the fogginess of your mirror after showering.

—

He follows you to the spread of food and beverages, unable to discern the excited, acheful, longing quiver in your step, too caught up in the same tremor of his own.

—

If the night ends with a bittersweet, we-would-never-dare, okay-well-I-guess-we-dared, This was fun, Fuck I hate this kiss… then that’s nobody’s business.

[sunboki]

002. THE MOVING IN DIARIES — ANTHOLOGY

PAIRING. Lee Minho x gn. reader | WORD COUNT. 2.3k & 12 minute read | SERIES PLAYLIST. | WARNINGS. cursing, anxiety, metaphor referring to getting high, talk of sex & implied smut | TROPE. friends to lovers, angst, fluff, suggestive, comfort, basically moving in together au!

( ✉️ ) — although this fic turned out shorter than expected, i have to remind myself this is a “mini”series 😭😭 please leave a reblog or comment if you enjoyed it! love you guys!!

Playful banter while driving to your new home is a must, but upon opening the door to your first home together, the big moment truly sinks in — especially when he wakes up beside you the next morning. Wow.

Heaving the massive brown boxes through the door with your boyfriend right on your heels, you practically slam the box labeled “Kitchen” in neon tape down, wiping the sweat off your brow before looking up.

It’s one thing to sign the papers to a new home, but another when you actually realize the reality of it all.

Minho seems to be in the same state of awe as well.

New. Everything is new. Your new home, a new chapter in either of your lives.

Together.

. ..

People genuinely underestimate the entire process of buying a house.

In other words, the entire daydreaming phase disappears instantly once finances, planning, and packing are introduced.

And it’s a fucking nightmare.

From initially digesting the prices to agreeing on a house in general, you’re certain gray hairs are mere days from appearing atop your head. Although, your boyfriend was here too, every step of the way.

My god were you grateful for that.

He handled the stress like a pro, picking out certain flaws in layouts you’d been completely oblivious to and always leveling you out when you got overwhelmed with things. Plus, you got to witness him looking illegally attractive in his glasses more than ever over the four-month long house-buying hell.

.

.

.

“And what about option two?” You ask, referring to your boyfriend currently calling about some new places he’d scoped out.

You swear this same conversation has popped up almost every day over the past month and a half. At this point it’s instinct going through the bottomless list, crossing off place after place, neverending.

Like you said, house-buying hell.

“Pretty spacious except the kitchen takes up half of the house,” Minho grunts, and you envision his glasses-clad self hunched at his desk with Dori on his lap, likely dozing off.

Before you can reject though, he huffs a chuckle, one filled with nothing but mischief.

“Hey, kitchen sex would be great.”

Thank god you weren’t drinking something or it definitely would’ve come out of your nose.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Awe, you love me sweetheart. And you know it's true.”

As much as you’d like to deny it, he’s no fool. Because kitchen sex with Minho is heavenly, and you’d be a liar to say otherwise. Unfortunately, your lack of reply evidently stroked his ego to no end, cocky giggle rumbling through the call.

Asshole.

You love him.

Reminding him you’d send a text while on your way home, you, as per usual, clock in for your shift after his whining and many repeated goodbyes. Yet you can’t seem to let go of the thought, plaguing your mind like an infectious virus.

Doubts.

Doubts about things working out, about your relationship working out, about your love working out. Especially once you move in, if you move in, no, of course you’ll move in, right? Where it came from you’re not sure, only aware of the tightness of your chest when you step outside for a breath of fresh air.

Suffocating. You feel suffocated.

Reaching into your pocket, moments of hesitation keep your thumb lingering longer over his number, regrettably stuffing the forsaken device in your pocket.

Not now, maybe later. It’s just a thought. Nothing serious.

Except you were a hypocrite, and it was serious, because by the time you stepped from the building you practically cried in the middle of the road, barely able to contain the frothing wail that left a nasty aftertaste burning your tongue.

Fuck it. You’re calling him.

Not until he attempts at getting out a full sentence without you dissolving into sobs does an audible phrase leave your mouth, pitifully curled up atop your bed after charting the messiest walk home in history.

“But– But what if the something happens and the agent messes up and–”

“Baby.”

The voice, the subtly stern tone immediately stops your fervent ranting. Your chest feels seconds from exploding, stifling every pained sound clambering to escape.

“This is our journey, our struggles. Don’t put so much stress on your shoulders when I’m here to help you carry it, okay? I love you, and I need you to know you’re not handling this by yourself.”

He’s speaking so quietly, so kindly, and you can only hum to keep from breaking into tears again while leant against the wall, phone pressed against your ear.

He’s said those three words more than ever in these past few weeks—knowing that he needs to hear it, that you both need to hear it. “I love you”.

It never gets old.

Also, once you're officially homeowners, you won’t have to constantly call each other anymore. It brings a watery smile to the corner of your lips.

“Hey Min?”

“Yes?” He hummed, mirroring the same sound made when he ate a good bite of food. It’s the cutest thing in the world.

“Yes?”

“Can we.. stay like this? I just want to know you’re there.”

A breathless laugh utters through the line.

“I’m right here all night sweetness.”

And like he promised, he stayed, the call ending almost seven hours later. Having fallen asleep a mere two hours in, Minho spoke all the while, mumbling to both himself and you. Plans for the future, his current grocery list, and, while deep in thought, how he so badly wanted to marry you.

He wouldn’t mention the last one when you woke up.

Eventually, he too began drifting off, and it wasn’t without telling you good night that he let himself fully travel to dreamland, whispering: “Good night baby, ‘sleep well.” Before clicking the red icon, signaling the end of the call.

Call Ended: 6:43:17.

. ..

The clock hung on his wall reads 2AM and his hand ferociously maneuvers the mouse, eyes practically bloodshot. You’re behind him on his bed, immersed just as intensely on the blinding screen.

Yesterday you’d received the best kind of news, but the trial was far from over, and you couldn’t quite celebrate till the keys came in—the exact thing you were religiously looking into right now.

He’s relentlessly scrolling through emails, running a hand through dark brown hair with prominent dark circles shadowing beaneath his lower lashes.

Having met with your agent that afternoon, you were nearly finished with the entire closing process when ding! A notification buzzes.

Scrambling, you jump off his mattress, both blinking dumbly, mouths agape.

Hello, I am pleased to inform the Minho family (you laughed at the name) your keys will be available at 8am tomorrow morning. Thank you for your cooperation, I was delighted to be the agent you chose for your first home purchase!

Oh my god.

Slowly turning to face one another, huge smiles grow at your cheeks while the boy’s apartment erupts in loud, victorious screams. He pulls you into a big hug and you do the same, mimicking his bouncing excitement.

He can’t even describe how happy he is.

This is really happening.

Your boyfriend hides himself in your chest and you gently pat his head, allowing the thundering of his heartbeat to calm.

Surreal.

Nonetheless, he couldn’t seem to stop kissing you. Perhaps it was the aftermath’s effect, too intoxicated by happiness to think sensibly. Not that he didn’t constantly kiss you normally, but this time it was different.

Plus, how could he stop when after the third kiss your lips were all puffy and glossy, begging to be kissed.

Holding your wrists, he tips his head to an angle, nipping the swollen skin of your bottom lip and ushering a deep sigh from you.

So when he does let go, you effortlessly hold his face, falling back onto the bed without a second thought other than having Minho as close to you as possible.

To say the least, fucking at almost 3AM was criminally underrated.

Towel hanging around his neck after his shower (and the euphoric afterglow), he took on the job of coordinating how each item was organized, deciding to worry about packing up your flat after coming to the conclusion trying to sleep at this point was futile.

“We’re such good adults.” You satisfy, popping the cap off the Sharpie and being sure to label the box in front of you as “Cat toys'' (Minho’s instructions).

”Please don’t ever say that again.” He leans down, stealing a peck for the nth time off your pout. You don’t complain.

You groan. “What? We just bought a house all by ourselves y’know.”

He busies himself in the bathroom, fetching additional toiletries while wearing the horrifically ugly slippers Changbin gifted him last year.

“After four months,” He says, tone laced with bemusement.

“Hey! It’s about the journey, not the reward,” You point an accusing finger his way, him responding with a rather unimpressed expression.

“You’re a loser.”

“Your loser.”

He wrinkles his nose, appearing disgusted.

Typical Minho reaction.

To no one’s surprise, you spend the remainder of the night scurrying around the place, too high on anticipation. Although, even after countless nights of no sleep, you don’t feel exhausted. You feel alive, relieved.

And it’s when he rolls over to face you, smiling so faintly you can barely make out the shadow lining his usually furrowed exterior that you realize he’s just as ecstatic as you are.

. ..

“Oh please, Lee Minho, you’re already hot, and we’re gonna be late!” You holler from his complex's parking lot, shutting the trunk filled to the brim with luggage. Of course, your boyfriend takes his sweet time sauntering over, placing the keys in your open palm and sending you a sarcastic grin.

“Never knew we booked an appointment with the house,” He scoffs, and you slip your index into his belt loop, tugging him closer with a shared sneer.

“Well now you know,” You cockily tilt your head, a sudden tension overwhelming the minimal space between you two, testing each other's teetering resolve using a mere stare and your finger still wedged in his belt.

He steps closer, you hold your breath.

So it takes you a moment to realize he said “I’m driving” till the keys were snatched from your grasp, leaving you to scoot your legs away and side-eye him the entire ride. Worst part? By the look of his stupidly-handsome-no-good-please-stop-so-I-can-despise-you smile, he enjoyed every second.

Yet, opposed to the cold-shoulder attitude on the drive there, you’re giggling like idiots upon pulling in the driveway. Your poor neighbors have to be terrified at this rate, worried their new next-door acquaintances are some deranged circus clowns or something.

They’re not half wrong.

After your starstruck admiration opening the door though, you get to work arranging things. Assembling shelves, cleaning floors, washing windows, you name it, the first half of the house was spotless.

First half.

As for now, you sprawl in Minho’s lap, a fan replacing the lack of air conditioning and a mandatorily delivered magazine fanning your sweaty faces. Any other situation you would’ve been miserable, but there’s no other contentment better than this.

Because it’s not much, but it's yours.

And that’s enough.

Despite the blinds pulled tightly closed, peach rays of light strayed through the crevices, painting the room a warm glow. You stirred awake, genuinely shocked with, one, this bedroom not being your own, two, the subtle wondering of how you ended up here from the living room, and three, a presence pressed against your back, hand slipped between your legs to hold the soft skin of your inner thigh.

“Minho. Minho!” You poke, jabbing an accusing finger against his jaw. His brow twitches, slowly blinking up at you. He grumbles, squeezing the supple skin there as if you weren’t staring at him incredulously.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Glaring into his genuinely innocent eyes, he purses his lips with a very kissable pout, appearing completely confused before noticing where his hand lay.

Compromising. Quite compromising.

“It’s warm and soft, why not? Or is it that I’m turning you o—“ Words cut short from you muffling him with a pillow, he squirms, infectious laughter radiating through the silk fabric.

Clad in basketball shorts and a plain white t-shirt that rose up just enough to grant a peek of his soft tummy when he stretched, your boyfriend padded through the hallway, approaching you only to scoop you up into his arms from behind—hand slipping beneath your top.

Before you can interfere though, he mumbles beneath his breath, voice hardly audible after just waking up.

“Don’t move, ‘wanna stay like this.”

Ah.

Morning Minho. You love morning Minho, especially now that you’re living together.

Before now, the only time you’d ever get to wake up beside each other was after, well, that. So to think about tomorrow where you'd get to do this again and again and again felt like a daydream.

Relaxing into his touch, he presses his nose into your neck, eyelids fluttering shut to simply bask in the atmosphere, the quietness occupying the home, your home.

Standing there motionless for a few moments, he takes you in, the softness of your skin dappled in sunlight filtering past the window, the rise and fall of your chest. Beautiful.

“So what’re we supposed to do now?” You aimlessly ask aloud, avoiding eye-contact with the massive amount of boxes stuffed in the corner—too exhausted to continue unpacking the night earlier. Save for another time.

“Fuck?” He mutters, but it comes out more muffled, more gravelly. Ungodly attractive.

“I…” Sentence getting caught up in your throat, you move equally as fast toward the bedroom, his nimble fingers pulling the straps of your top down your shoulders, chasing after you.

“—Hate you.” You finish, simultaneously trapped between him and the door.

Nevertheless, you give in. With Minho, you always give in.

You love him.

He knows.

> SERIES TAGLIST. @phtogravi @liknws @luckieleaf @jhstayy @meloncremesoda @chans1aptop @eternitywaveshello @meanergreener @ladylexis @love-gy-u @hanjingin @idkluvutellme @dark-anxel @yubinism @rachabreathing @seung-scrittore @fylithia @skzsupremacy @alrm02 @ener-energy @koliki @anskiiz @dprkbyn @bellamuerte1987 @ylixbok @hanjisung-enjoyer @youngunknownwitch @hwangflora @starlost-andfound @taeriffic @flwerfield

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[vivwritescrappythings]

silence

eddie munson x reader

the five times you asked eddie to be quiet (and the one time he was)

tw: ANGST, but also fluff?, hurt no comfort, blood, death, trauma, reader is gender neutral (i think), kissing, alcohol, mentions of drug use, reader is shorter than eddie.

wc: 8.5k

masterlist

—

i.

The first time you discovered that Eddie Munson was an unstoppable force of nature all bottled into the lanky body of a nineteen-year-old boy, it was at work. 

The Hawkins Library was not frequently visited on Friday evenings, your shift often filled with the sound of you restocking books on shelves and the squeaky wheel of the cart you pushed around. So you instantly noticed the loud, raucous voice interrupting the calm evening like a knife through butter. 

It fired you up, your brow furrowing as you abandoned the cart of returned books to discover the source of the noise. There were a few people lingering in the plush chairs scattered through the atrium that looked up at you as you stormed past, the jingle of the keys around your neck punctuating your steps. 

You were young to be working at the library, you were the only person there who was under the age of forty, let alone just nineteen. You liked books, didn’t mind a quiet workplace, and the Hawkins Library had an opening that you managed to squeeze into. There weren’t any other plans in your future, so you figured the library wasn’t a horrible place to end up.

It wasn’t hard to recognize Eddie Munson. He still wore his denim vest over his leather jacket, the patches haphazardly sewn on in uneven stitches. He made it during your senior year of high school… well, his first senior year of high school. You thought he was on his second round, at least that was what you’d heard from Nancy. The frizzy, curly hair on his head was the same, but he had it pulled into a loose bun at the nape of his neck. Hellfire club was seated at a table, the actual boys having changed but they still wore the same shirts.

“Roll for initiative!” Eddie’s voice had a theatrical fullness to it. There was an authenticity to him that you envied.

“You can’t shout like that in here,” you barked in your best attempt at an authoritative tone, crossing your arms over your chest as you stood behind Eddie. You said it a bit louder than was acceptable, wanting to make sure you were heard over the clatter on dice on the wooden table.

He looked like a kid that got caught with their hand in the cookie jar when he turned to look at you, a kiss-ass smile on his face.

“You need to quiet down,” you said, looking at the minions before their ringleader. The boys shied away from your gaze, looking down at the hands and the hand-drawn map in front of them. Eddie, their fearless leader, approached you and took the full heat of your stare.

“Aw c’mon,” Eddie softly whined, clutching his hands to his chest as he started to plead with you. You noticed that his eyes were puppy-dog brown as his lip jutted out far enough to cast a shadow from the overhead lighting.

You scoffed slightly, rolling your eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the drama room, Munson?” 

Hellfire had taken a residency there your sophomore year of high school, meeting every Friday night to play Dungeons and Dragons. Eddie had even gotten himself a throne, the self-declared king of the misfits. 

“They’re repainting it and threw us out,” he finally sighed, stopping his approach when he was just a foot away from you. “Please, take us strays in. We’re cold… winter’s here…” His voice trailed off pathetically as Eddie pretended to crumble to his knees in front of you.

You managed to stay stoic for a few moments, your arms still folded over your chest in disapproval as one of your eyebrows ticked up. Eddie had always been talented at making a spectacle of himself.

He finally broke you, pretending to sob as he lightly tugged on your cardigan. His little whimper for your mercy made you roll your eyes despite the fact that you cracked a smile. A soft laugh huffed from your nostrils, making you shake your head.

“Fine,” you sighed, hoping he would get up sooner rather than later. “But you owe me.”

He clambered to his feet, adjusting his vest and leather jacket as he flashed you a sincere, boyish smile. Your heart stuttered at the sight of it. His pink lips briefly shut, his tongue pressing into his cheek as he looked you up and down. “How about I make it up to you with dinner? Maybe tomorrow?”

Your cheeks heated up as you slid from bossy to bashful. “Dinner? Um, sure,” you murmured, your fingers reaching up to press at the nape of your neck as a small smile formed on your face. You’d never considered dating Eddie, but as soon as he offered you found yourself readily agreeing. 

The Hellfire boys giggled amongst themselves and elbowed one another. The sound of their chuckles reminded you that you were at work, making you draw yourself up once more.

“But keep it down!” you reminded him sharply, some of your composure returning as you started to turn away from Eddie and his retinue.

“Of course we will,” he said in an exaggerated whisper, winking as he placed a finger against his lips. You knew it was a complete lie, even as he crossed his fingers over his heart and jostled the buttons pinned to his breast pocket. After a moment you nodded, leaving the group to themselves as you made your way back to your cart of books.

As soon as you rounded the corner you heard what you came to recognize as Eddie’s Dungeon Master voice booming out across the library. 

ii.

It was only your third date when you’d learned that Eddie was thoughtful: an evening spent walking around the new shopping mall completed with seeing a movie in the attached theater. 

You didn’t think your dinner would end so well, ending up with you two talking late into the night before you’d parted ways. You found yourself calling him to ask him for a second date, having to leave an awkward message with his uncle.

The second was even better, the two of you watching movies you’d rented from Family Video on your thrift store couch in your too-small apartment. What started with awkward smiles each time your hands touched or knees bumped morphed into Eddie clumsily pressing a kiss to your lips in the blue-tinted darkness. 

He started this date with a kiss, curling an arm around your waist as you walked up to his van and pulling you in for a quick stamp of his lips on yours. It was so easy, it felt like you’d been kissing for months rather than the first time a few days prior. You melted into it, finding yourself a bit lightheaded as he opened the door for you and ushered you into the passenger seat.

Walking around the mall included his fingers wrapping around yours, splitting a milkshake in the food court, and a long excursion to the arcade. 

You were amazed with just how boisterous he was. Eddie was so expressive, moving your hand with his as he talked about his band and his hopes to someday leave Hawkins. You listened like a disciple, wide-eyed and enamored. Life exuded from his every movement, a broad smile on his face as he jumped up to walk on the rim of one of the planters.

But he surprised you by actually steering the conversation your way, making you go into Waldenbooks to listen to you talk about your favorite books and Tape World so you could pick out your favorite songs. You didn’t know until later that he had gone back the next day to buy everything you’d picked up so he could surprise you–that’s how smitten he was.

You told him about how you liked the library but wanted to feel like you were really doing something with your life. He listened as you rambled, his eyes taking in the way you smiled and looked around when you talked and how you swung your intertwined hands even more aggressively to make your points.

He told you later that it was that moment he knew he was in love.

But, nevertheless, you two found your way to the movie theater and sat down in the back of one to watch The Breakfast Club with a blue raspberry ICEE shoved into the cupholder between the two of you. Eddie had only asked the boy at the snack counter for one straw, forcing you to share it.

He talked through every movie trailer, his sarcastic commentary making you laugh under your breath as the two of you looked at one another like co-conspirators. Eddie went out of his way to ask which ones you wanted to go see when they came out. He planned outings with you in barely-hushed whispers, already asking if you liked midnight premieres or Tuesday afternoon movies and if you liked to sit in the middle or the back of the theater.

Midnight premiers. The back of the theater.

Eddie made sure you never missed a movie you’d been talking about, showing up at your apartment at half an hour to midnight to whisk you away to the Starcourt Cinema. He always made sure you sat in the back, once even making some kids he knew from Hellfire club move out of the way so you two could have a seat. You saw so many movies that you could hardly keep track of them.

But this one was special because it was the first. When the lights went dark he didn’t change his volume, his hot chocolate eyes focusing on you like you were the only person in the world. 

“Eddie, the movie’s starting,” you whispered, nodding your chin toward the screen as you leaned toward him. You reached around the cup to hold his hand, the cool condensation clinging to the outside of it smearing along your forearm as your temple nudged his shoulder. “You gotta be quiet.”

“Hmm?” He turned to look at the screen, letting out a soft ‘oh’ as he squeezed your hand once. 

It only took him a moment to talk again. “Detention s’not like that, you know,” he informed you, his voice still well above a whisper. 

iii.

It was early for a Monday when Eddie had imprinted himself on your heart like the tattoo on your hip. 

It was your day off and Eddie’s as he hadn’t started school quite yet. He was still asleep, probably sprawling out on your bed like an overgrown starfish and snoring into the pillow on your side of the bed. You’d discovered that you were the early bird of your pair, you often rose well before Eddie was ready to be cognizant. You held your breath and tiptoed while getting out of bed to brew coffee and watch television with the volume turned down low.

You were clad in his Iron Maiden shirt, having staked your claim on it when you started keeping it in your dresser drawers. It was the tail-end of the dog days of summer, loose sleep shorts on your legs as you sat in front of a fan you’d set up in your living room. Eddie was hogging the one in your bedroom, conveniently setting it up on his side of the bed.

Your coffee had long gone lukewarm, the unforgiving August sun stretching in your living room through the curtains as you sat on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. The television provided white noise, some game show playing while you idly sketched on the notepad in front of you. 

It was a monster for Eddie’s campaign, he’d been describing it all night and you couldn’t get it out of your head. You didn’t consider yourself much of an artist, but Eddie always praised you like you were Picasso reincarnate. You drew his monsters all the time, he kept the loose pieces of paper tucked away in the beaten-up notebook he always carried around.

The groan of your air conditioner ruined your perfect morning, the machine finally giving out like it had been threatening to for the past few weeks. Cool air stopped trickling through the vent in your kitchen as you fished a partially burnt piece of toast from the toaster. 

“Fucking of course,” you sighed, dropping the toast on the chipped Snoopy plate you refused to get rid of. The motions of buttering the bread and spreading jam kept your hands occupied, your bare foot tapping against the tile as you wondered who to call to fix it. You had the landlord’s phone number written somewhere, rifling through your mental checklist of places it could be. 

Eddie emerged from your bedroom as you’re rifling through your junk drawer, emptying the contents onto the kitchen counter. What possessed you to keep all this crap? There were too many odds and ends to count, loose batteries and bobbins of thread and scraps of paper and a spring rolling across the ivory tiles. 

“What’s got you in crazy tornado mode this early in the morning?” Eddie asked, approaching with slow, groggy steps as he rubbed his eyes. He stood behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist and his chin on your shoulder. 

“Air conditioner broke.” You jolted when you found the crumpled slip of paper where you’d scrawled the phone number, holding it up like treasure you’d dug out of the ground.

Eddie chuckled, letting you go with a kiss to your temple before he disappeared into the bathroom. Your gaze followed him as he did, noting that he’d taken his shirt off at some point. The swirling black lines of his tattoos were on full display as you dialed the number, twisting the phone cord around your finger. 

Seeing Eddie without all his garb felt like a special privilege. The first time he slept over he’d stripped to just red checkered boxers and his socks, letting you stare wide-eyed at the tattoos that littered his skin. The two of you had stayed up talking about them until the sun was rising, Eddie’s cheeks tinted pink every time you reached out to trace the designs. 

You particularly loved the wonky stick and poke tattoo he’d given himself above his left knee, big block letters that said DUNGEON MASTER but were slightly wobbly. He was embarrassed when you’d asked him to give you one.

There were no tattoos on your skin when Eddie had you lay down on the floor of his room in the trailer, kneeling over you with a needle shoved in the end of a pencil eraser. You noticed he stuck out his tongue when he concentrated, worried about messing up the placement of the lines. It stung, the first poke making you squirm and forcing him to smooth a big hand on your stomach to keep you still.

You traced the shape of the healed star tattooed just above the waistband of your shorts as you leaned against the wall near your phone, some of the lines were a little crooked but you didn’t care. 

“Mr. Frask’s Office.” The shrill voice brought your attention back. Mr. Frask was one of the biggest landlords in Hawkins, some rich investor from Indiana who owned a bunch of buildings they constructed near the outskirts of town.

“Hi, um, my air conditioner broke down and I need someone to come out here and fix it,” you said, turning so your back was to the bathroom door as you twisted the spiral phone cord up and down your index finger. There was a crackle of static on the other end of the line, you could hear the woman shifting around papers on her desk.

She asked you which complex you lived in, making you stretch the phone cord as far as it could go as you leaned toward the big window in your living room. “Um, Appletree West?” It sounded like more of a question than an answer despite the fact that you were staring at the wooden sign at the entrance of the parking lot.

You hardly could process what was happening before your instincts had you moving. A cold, wet press to the nape of your neck made you yelp straight into the receiver as you twisted away from it. Drops rolled down your spine, the cool water making your skin erupt in goosebumps.

Eddie snickered behind you, letting the ice cube he was holding slide down the back of your shirt. You made a strangled noise, completely forgetting about the phone as you yanked your shirt with your free hand and let the ice cube fall to the carpet.

“Are you okay?” The voice on the phone was quiet, fighting over the short distance to your ear as the woman reminded you of her presence.

You narrowed your eyes at Eddie. “Yeah, sorry about that. There’s some crazy guy running around outside, caught me by surprise,” you said, shooting Eddie a glare over your shoulder. He grinned wide, dimples showing as you rolled your eyes.

You smothered the receiver with your palm. “Eddie, I’m on the phone,” you hissed, scolding him as you returned to where the phone hook was on the wall.

He followed amiably like a puppy, standing right behind you as you turned away from him in an attempt to hide your smile. Lanky arms curled around your waist, nuzzling his nose into the back of your neck. His fingertips drummed a beat against your abdomen.

“What unit number?” the woman asked, sounding bored.

“Unit 1-12.” Eddie licked a long, wet stripe up the side of your throat, his warm tongue pressed flat and wide against your skin. You made a strangled sound, his arms keeping you from squirming away as you pushed his head away with your free hand. 

“Ask if they can make your upstairs neighbor stop fucking that lady so loud,” he whispered in your ear, making it hard to concentrate on what the woman on the phone was asking. Your upstairs neighbors had been going at it pretty loud as of late, their yowls making them sound more like crappy pornstars than an actual couple.

You covered the microphone with your hand, turning to glare. “Eddie, I’m on the phone. Can you please be quiet?” 

He smirked, loving to get a rise out of you. “You never pay attention to me.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to wrap up the phone call as soon as possible as Eddie continued to mutter nonsense into your ear. The property manager would be coming by in a few hours, the woman rattling off information that prompted you to hum and nod as though you were in the room with her.

Eddie’s hands started to snake beneath the hem of the shirt you wore, his calloused fingertips snapping the waistband of your underwear lightly. He pressed wet, noisy kisses down your throat and beneath the spot on your ear that made you shiver.

“Thank you!” you squeaked into the phone, a blush creeping up on your face. You hung up before the woman had time to respond.

You turned in Eddie’s embrace, his shit-eating grin was wide as he backed you up until you were trapped against the wall. “You are incorrigible, Edward Munson,” you scolded, lips scrunching to one side and nose wrinkling in an attempt to hide the smile on your face.

He snickered, his chocolate brown gaze taking in your expression before he leaned down to worm his way into a kiss. It was quick and chaste, when he pulled away you found yourself following his lips as though an invisible string connected you. He tasted minty like your toothpaste. “I love when you talk librarian to me,” he murmured, a huff of a laugh breathing over you.

“Library assistant,” you corrected, tracing the spider tattoo just beneath his left collarbone. 

It was already starting to get warm in your apartment, soon the two of you would be too hot to even talk to one another if the air conditioning didn’t get fixed. 

He hummed his understanding, nodding. “Library assistant, that’s wicked hot.” 

iv.

New Year’s Eve was when Eddie had promised you a future.

The party was a whirlwind. 

Hawkins parties tended to be on the stranger side, especially during the holidays. No one had anything better to do, and everyone was back home with their parents for the break. The annual New Year’s Eve house party was an amalgamation of high school and college students crammed into an unsuspecting family’s home. The family of 1985 was the Perkins family, their respectable home in one of the more spacious neighborhoods. Apparently Carol’s parents had gone out of town to celebrate, letting her and her younger sister have run of the place. 

Eddie forced you to come along, he had spent the past day rolling joints to sell at a ridiculous markup and didn’t want to go alone. You’d wanted to have a night at home, maybe invite some of your friends over for something small. But he begged, using his sweet puppy-dog eyes against you until your resolve crumbled. Ever the dutiful girlfriend, you went with him under the stipulation that he had to drive. 

The music was loud inside the house, the lights were dim and people were everywhere you looked. Eddie had melded into a corner, his metal lunch box at his side. You could feel his gaze on you across the room as you talked with some of your friends, giggling over red solo cups filled with drinks that were too strong. 

You’d found your way back to Eddie nearly every ten minutes, his gaze on your spine pulling you over to him like a moth to a flame. It didn’t matter if he was in the middle of a deal, you always clambered onto the couch next to him and nuzzled in close. 

It was getting late when you’d flopped onto the couch that time. “Hi Ed,” you whispered into his ear, your voice getting a bit wobbly as the tipsiness settled into your bones. Your drink swirled dangerously in the cup, making Eddie confiscate it with a chuckle and set it on the end table next to him. He pocketed the cash, the teenager scurrying away with a newly purchased joint between their fingers.

Eddie turned to look at you, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek as his arm curled around your back. “Hey, how you feeling?” he asked, his voice low as he gently knocked his forehead against yours. You practically beamed under his affection.

Your friends were watching, smiling to one another as they watched Eddie smooth a piece of hair behind your ear. The whole conversation that evening had been focused on how good he was for you, and how you seemed to blossom in a way they had never seen with your previous relationships. Despite his rough exterior, Eddie was the sweetest person you’d ever met: empathetic and kind and boisterous. You’d never been with anyone like him.

“M’good, just missed you,” you mumbled, your fingertips tracing along the borders of the patches on his vest. It was close to midnight, the two of you just a little over ten minutes away from 1986. The energy in the party was already starting to buzz, more and more attention focused on wristwatches and the clocks on the walls.

He grinned, his free hand pulling a strand of his curly hair over his mouth as he started to look bashful. “Yeah? I’ve been right here the whole time, no reason to miss me,” he said, making you roll your eyes. 

Another teen approached, making Eddie wave them away with a flick of his hand as he stood. You moved with him, your fingers twined together as he tucked his lunch box under his arm and started to weave through the crowd. “Just wanna spend time with me and you,” he said as he brought you up a flight of stairs off the living room. 

You agreed, nodding as he started opening doors in the long upstairs hallway. Bedrooms were full, most of the doors locked or really should have been locked. A fit of giggles erupted from the two of you when you opened a door to see a tangle of limbs on the bed, an embarrassed yelp from the pair and profuse apologies spilling from your lips as you slammed the door shut.

“Maybe I should just start doing that to you out here in the hall,” Eddie suggested, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively as he cornered you against the wall. He set the lunch box at his feet.

“Shut up,” you said with a laugh, your hands finding his biceps as you stretched up to kiss him. His lips were soft as always, your tongue darting out to taste him. Cigarettes and beer and your strawberry flavored chapstick he kept in his pocket just in case you asked for it. 

His hands found your waist, smoothing to the curve of it as he shuffled forward, his Reebocks nudging against your Converse as he pressed the length of your body against his. “S’all dark up here, no one would even know.” He was halfway between teasing and telling the truth, his umber eyes sparkling with mischief even in the low light.

You giggled again, shaking your head. “You can just take me home if you want to do that, Ed,” you said softly, biting your lower lip.

Excited whispers began downstairs. One minute left until midnight. 

The thrill of New Year’s Eve had often been lost on you, it was just another day, just another year. It never meant anything to you besides the passage of time, crossing days off the calendar as the clock ticked. New Year’s Eve was just a night where you got a little too drunk and maybe kissed a stranger if you were feeling bold.

But the last day of 1985 was different. You had plans, goals for the first time in a long time. You had college lined up in Indianapolis in August, you and Eddie were going to move out of your hellhole of a small town and actually start your lives. He was going to graduate, find a job at a record store in the city and keep making music with Corroded Coffin. He’d make it someday, you could tell from the tapes you’d been passing around at your college tours–people really liked them.

“I love you,” you whispered in the dark, looking up at Eddie with adoration written clearly over your expression. 

A sweet kiss to your nose followed, making you scrunch it up. “I love you too,” he murmured, leaning in further so his frizzy, curly hair blocked your view of the rest of the dark hallway. “Eighty-six is our year, right?”

There was a hint of nervousness, you could see the seedling of fear in him that you would disagree. You didn’t understand how Eddie could think that you’d ever doubt him, not when you looked at him like he had single-handedly hung the moon and the stars. 

You nodded instantly. “Of course, nothing’s gonna stop us.”

Everyone was counting down, voices shouting and the shuffling of feet as people figured out who they were going to be with when 1985 morphed into 1986. This was the first year since you were a little kid that you didn’t have to scramble to figure something out, content as you and Eddie blended into each other in the shadows of the upstairs hall.

Your voices were hushed, whispering numbers to one another in a way that was so sappy and soppy that you thought it couldn’t possibly be real. He couldn’t possibly be yours.

Eddie kissed you at midnight, so eager that your noses mashed together and your teeth collided. You were smiling into it, holding him as close as you could as your mouth melded to his. You’d kissed him often, dozens of times a day, but it always felt just as electric as the first time he’d kissed you. 

And that was how your New Year’s kiss felt, giddy and eager and had your heart swelling in a way that made you think it would explode. He pulled away first, smiling down at you for another moment. “Eighty-six, baby!” he whooped, so loud that it pulled a startled laugh from you.

“Eddie!” you squeaked, your fingers pressing over your mouth. “You gotta be quiet.” You were never serious when you asked him to hush, he always knew that.

“Eighty-six is gonna be our year,” he said again, albeit much softer as he stooped down to pull you into another kiss.

v.

It was March when you learned that Eddie thought he was a coward. 

A fist pounding on your front door pulled you from the clutches of sleep. You had a long day and had passed out early, the bright red numbers on your alarm clock informing you that it was only a few minutes after ten. 

It was hard to get out of bed, your mind still swirling with the confusion of waking up abruptly as you sat up and rubbed your eyes with your palms. The knocking didn’t stop, if anything it had increased in tempo. Another moment later your feet were shoved into slippers and you were blinking sleep out of your eyes as you made your way across the tiny apartment. 

Your movements were slow and languid until you looked through the peephole: you’d never seen Eddie look so terrified in his life. His eyes were wide, every speck of color drained from his face and his expression gaunt. 

It only took you a second to wrench open your door after panic made you fumble with the lock, Eddie’s arms immediately wrapping around you as he nearly knocked you onto the floor.

“Eddie, what’s going on?” you asked, your voice raspy from sleep as you managed to catch yourself. The majority of his weight was leaning on you, his face tucked into your neck as he pulled in labored breaths. You ran your fingers up and down his sides, your arms trapped against your body as he clung to you.

It was Hellfire night, the end of his big campaign. He’d been talking about it for weeks, ranting and raving about Vecna and how hard it would be for the Hellfire boys to beat him. You couldn’t think of anything that would make him react like this.

“Chr-Chrissy Cunningham,” he finally muttered against your neck, pitching you even further into the deep end of the pool. Your brows drew together as you nodded in an attempt to get him to talk more. He’d told you about the weird request she had for something stronger than weed, how he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to sell to her. The two of you had met up after he got out of school, sitting in the back of his van as you shared a bag of chips before you had to work. You’d just shrugged, telling him to go with his gut.

“Did something happen, Ed?” you asked, your voice soft. Worry took root in the pit of your stomach as you whirred through scenarios. It could’ve been anything, really. She could’ve taken too much, or could’ve had an accident or ratted him out. Or said something to him, she was a cheerleader after all and Eddie was sensitive beneath his carefully constructed exoskeleton. 

The thought that something else could have happened spiked through you, the recesses of your mind reminding you that Chrissy Cunningham had always been a cute, sweet girl whenever she checked out books at the library. She had stunning eyes, and always asked you about yourself. That could be something Eddie wanted, a girl much sweeter than you. You pushed the thought away.

You swallowed thickly, reminding yourself of the situation at hand. He still held you close, your front door wide open and revealing the clear night outside. “Eddie, you gotta talk to me,” you whispered again, squirming in his tight grip.

He shook his head, a pathetic whimper pulling from his throat in a way that broke your heart. There was desperation in the way he pulled you closer, crushing you into his chest. You didn’t protest, letting him work through his thoughts. A breeze floated through your door, carrying in the chilly March air and making you shiver in your flimsy pajamas.

“She’s dead,” he said, and the floodgate opened as your heart stopped. “I don’t know what happened. I was in my room getting the ketamine and I came out and she was, like, in this trance. And I know it sounds crazy and you won’t believe me but she literally lifted off the ground and her eyes rolled back and–oh fuck–her bones started breaking like it was a horror movie and she fell on the ground and her eyes were sucked out of her head. Idon’tknowwhathappened.”

He didn’t breathe once as he rambled. All the air sucked out of the room as you processed what he was saying. Dead. The kind, sweet cheerleader was dead. Poor girl, cut down her senior year just before life opened up to a whole world outside of Hawkins. She was the town sweetheart, known by all and loved almost as much. 

And the last person that saw her was Eddie.

Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach. “We need to go,” you finally said, snapping back to yourself. Normally Eddie was the one who took charge, he figured out the plans or solved the problems caused by your neuroticism. But in his time of need you found yourself naturally taking up the mantle.

“What?” he whispered, seemingly caught off guard as he pulled back and looked you in the eyes. His huge hands were on your shoulders, you could feel him trembling. “What do you mean?”

You gently placed a hand on his face, watching how Eddie flinched before he leaned into your touch. It made you want to bring him to your room and bundle him up in your quilt to protect him from the world.  “Did this happen in the trailer?” you asked, your thumb stroking on his cheekbone. 

He nodded, not quite grasping what you were saying. “Then we need to go, whoever finds that body is gonna think you did it.” His eyes widened in a way that told you he hadn’t considered that. “We need to get out of here.” There was urgency in your tone as you slipped from his hold, moving in a blur.

You were dressed with a backpack in hand in minutes, working Eddie’s keys from his pocket as you grabbed his wrist and pulled him after you. He was in shock, clumsy and slow as he followed you. There was the soft whisper of him talking to himself under his breath as you charged down the stairs to your second-story apartment. There was no argument as you got into the driver’s seat of the van, peeling out of the spot as soon as Eddie buckled into the passenger side. 

“Reefer Rick’s out of town,” Eddie mumbled after a few minutes of driving, looking out the windshield in the dark. You didn’t know he could seem so empty, like someone had cracked him open and spilled all of his joy out. It made you feel helpless. You nodded, driving toward Lover’s Lake like you had stolen the van, cutting corners and running lights the further you got from town.

The description of Chrissy’s body was stuck with you, her limbs akimbo as she cooled on the carpeted floor of the trailer. You thought about what Eddie said, your brow furrowing as you tried to piece it all together to make a picture that felt like reality. It made no sense, sounding like something out of a Stephen King novel. But you believed that he didn’t do it. 

There was no way your Eddie could do something like that. He cried when he accidentally ran over a squirrel that crossed the street at the wrong time, he wasn’t a killer.

The two of you left the van parked a ways into the woods, hiking the rest of the distance to Reefer Rick’s in silence. Eddie startled every time a stick cracked under your feet, nearly jumping out of his skin as you reached out and slotted your fingers between his. You could tell his nerves were frayed as he barely held it together, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you gently guided him forward.

The house was locked, leading the two of you to the boathouse for shelter. Eddie tested to see if the door was unlocked as you looked anxiously over your shoulders as though the police had followed you there. There was no way they could have, the only people who knew Chrissy was dead were you and Eddie… you kept repeating it in your head. Wayne would find her in the morning when he got home from work, you would have until then to figure something out.

The door swung open and Eddie stepped out of the way to let you in. The boathouse was full of crap, boxes and small boats strewn about, tarps thrown over various items and disguising their shapes.  

“We’ll figure out what to do next,” you breathed with a sigh as Eddie shut the door. You realized that you were trying to soothe yourself more than him as you pulled on the chain for an overhead bulb, setting your backpack down as you looked around. 

“I didn’t do it.” Eddie’s voice was quiet, he nervously stood in front of you. His rings flashed as he wrung his hands together, brown eyes wide as he settled his gaze on a boat. You traced the silhouette of his throat and Adam’s apple, his pale skin standing out against his dark hair as you looked at his profile.

You walked over to him, pulling him into a soft embrace. “I know you didn’t, Ed,” you whispered, guiding his head into the curve of your neck. “Never thought you did, I promise.”

The sob he let out was devastating, he took big lumbering steps that moved the two of you to one of the boats that had been discarded. He guided you back onto it, crushed beneath his weight as he started to cry into your neck. The tears were hot against your skin, rolling over your throat and soaking into the collar of your sweatshirt as you held him.

You shushed him softly, running your fingers through his curly hair as you tried to soothe Eddie. “I-I didn’t do it, I swear,” he pleaded against your neck, his voice loud enough to make you nervous as you looked out the windows dotting the living room walls.

“I know, I know,” you murmured, pressing your lips to the side of his head. “You gotta keep it down, we don’t want anyone to know we’re here.”

He huffed, nodding against you as he pulled you even closer. “I just ran away like a coward,” he sighed, voice cracking as he started to hiccup. “How… how could I do that? Just leave her there? I should’ve done something, should’ve called the cops.” 

You shook your head in disagreement. “Ed, anyone would’ve been scared. It’s not like something normal happened.” You didn’t know what else to say, there was nothing you could tell him that would make it better. No matter what, there was still a dead girl on the floor of his trailer. “There wasn’t anything you could do.”

There wasn’t a moment of silence until Eddie fell asleep, you whispered platitudes to him in the dim light. The rough wood of the dinghy dug into your back, but you didn’t dare move a muscle as you felt Eddie start to relax and fall asleep in your arms.

i.

It was only a few days later when your whole world fell apart.

Buying more time. 

Buying more time.

Your heart pounded in your ears as you burst from the Upside Down version of the Munson trailer, a sickening crunch and Dustin’s scream echoing behind you. The sound of the poor kid getting hurt almost made you stop and turn around. Almost.

But you couldn’t, you could only keep going as you thought about your sweet idiot of a boyfriend. How dare he risk himself like that? Didn’t he know that you couldn’t make it, that you couldn’t live without him? If he did, he didn’t seem to take it into account when he cut the rope connecting the Upside Down and Hawkins, running off into battle.

You screamed as the column of bats took Eddie to the ground by his neck. They were pulling at his limbs, scratching and biting him. What did he think that fucking trashcan lid and broom spear would do? Your legs were moving now, sprinting faster than you ever even knew you could. The ground was rocky and uneven, but you somehow kept planting one foot in front of the other. Some distant part of your brain heard Dustin behind you, his shouts matching your own.

Eddie was screaming so loud. 

It was the ugliest noise you had ever heard in your life, each one cutting through your heart.

Then the bats fell, the sudden swarm dropping out of the sky like pathetic rubber toys as you reached where Eddie was sprawled on the ground. You stepped on their carcasses in an effort to get to him faster, almost slipping as their thin bones crunched beneath your feet. Blood covered his face and neck, soaking into the white fabric on his Hellfire shirt as you fell to your knees next to him.

“Eddie!” Your voice was too loud, too tight in your throat. Tears were already leaking from your eyes as you knelt over him, your hands vibrating in the air as you hesitated to touch him. It was like everything was frozen as you took in the sheer amount of crimson. There was so much blood, it pooled in every nook and cranny of his body as he slowly looked up at you.

Dustin was soon to follow, limping as he fell on Eddie’s other side. Eddie’s brown eyes rolled in his skull a little as he looked at Dustin, the teen’s face crumpled in anguish. “Bad, huh?” Eddie asked, films of blood bubbling at his pink lips as he spoke.

Yeah. The worst.

Dustin vehemently denied it, speaking where you couldn’t. There were promises of a hospital thrown out there along with the idea that Eddie would get better. He helped you hoist Eddie up, your arms cradling his torso as you pulled him into your lap. You knew it was over when Eddie cried out for a second, but you nodded, your free hand falling to his cheek as you looked down at him.

God, why did he have to be so selfless?

It only took Eddie a moment to smile as he looked up at you. But you could see the tears forming at the corners of his eyes, the way they slid down his temples and into the frizzy mess of his hair. “I didn’t run away this time, right?” his voice was tight and strangled, the sound of it so foreign coming out of Eddie’s mouth. Rowdy, boisterous Eddie, reduced to raspy whispers.

“No, you didn’t,” you managed to gasp, your voice wobbly as you found your breath. It came in harsh inhales, like you were about to drown. “You didn’t run.”

“You gotta do everything we said we would,” Eddie said, watching as you started to cry. It was still stoic enough, a few tears running down your cheeks. “You gotta go to college and live in Indianapolis and become a writer.” 

It was impossible to even imagine your dreams, Eddie was there in every single one. You shook your head, your throat closing as you pressed your lips together in a stubborn line. “I can’t,” you sounded so pathetic, “I can’t without you, Ed.” 

Thunder cracked over your head, red lightning illuminating the roiling, stormy sky. It sounded like Eddie was choking with each breath, blood bubbling in his throat. Dustin reached out to you, his hand clasping your shoulder as your heads bowed together, temples knocking as you both tried to keep your misery at bay. At least for now.

“You’re gonna, you’re gonna do it all for me,” Eddie argued, his breaths shortening. “You never needed me for any of it, anyways. You were always too smart for me.”

You whined, hardly even able to breathe. “Shut up,” you mumbled, your trembling fingers tightening on Eddie’s jacket in some desperate attempt to keep him with you for longer. “I need you, I need you with me. I don’t know…” You couldn’t even finish what you were saying.

“Dustin, you promise me you’re gonna take care of everyone, the little sheepies.” There was an unspoken promise that Dustin would be taking care of you as well. He denied Eddie the same way you did, mumbling that he wouldn’t have to because Eddie would be there to do it himself. But, Eddie was just as smart as he was stubborn, forcing a promise out of the teenager.

“I love you,” Eddie said, his gaze shifting back to yours. He was starting to look hazy, his brown eyes having trouble focusing on your face. His vibrancy was slipping away.

“I love you so much, baby,” you whispered, molars digging into your cheek as you tried to keep the tears stinging at your eyes from falling. The iron taste of your blood filled your mouth. “I love you more than anything in the world.” Your bottom lip wouldn’t stop trembling, your entire life falling out from under you as your blood-streaked fingers smoothed the hair curling out from under Eddie’s bandana.

Eddie’s breath turned into choking, Dustin saying his name over and over again. You watched his eyes slip from yours, the furrow in his brow smoothing out. The awful choking sound continued, his throat struggling for hair as his head turned to match the slope of your thigh. “Eddie…” you sobbed as you let the knot in your throat release, watching the last glimmer of light disappear from him, the sound of his labored breath fading to nothing.

You’d never heard a silence so deafening. 

He was so quiet, so still. Eddie had never done anything quietly in his life. Everything about him was vibrant and genuine, he spent every moment pouring himself out into the world for greedy people like you to gobble up. There was never a moment Eddie wasn’t trying to make someone laugh, bending over backwards for just a smile. He spent hours dreaming up songs for his band, writing down stories he would then perform for his friends over the Dungeons and Dragons table. Hell, he even talked in his sleep.

It had always been you who told him to quiet down, but you never meant it. A world without Eddie was a world devoid of color, of life.

Now that you knew his silence, you regretted every second you’d ever asked him to be quiet. 

Dustin was crying, the noise bringing you back into the present. You didn’t realize that you had been speaking, begging Eddie to come back to you, to say something. It felt like you were falling, tumbling end over end as your whole life was ripped from your fingers. 

Did you ever stop falling? Was there ever Wonderland at the end of the tunnel, or did it just go on forever? 

You clutched Eddie’s still-warm body as close as you could, rocking back and forth as you screamed your throat raw. You didn’t know that anything could hurt so much, almost convinced that the gaping hole in your chest was real. Dustin was right there with you, an arm across your back as he sobbed into your shoulder. 

You wished it was you instead, that Eddie was cradling your dead body on his lap. He would be able to recover, to move on. In your fantasy you could see him becoming a huge rockstar that wrote sad ballads about his past lover. Time would heal his wounds.

But for you? Time felt like it had stopped, the entire world paused to mourn the death of one of its best and brightest alongside you. There wasn’t even thunder overhead, just the sound of you and Dustin. 

There was no way to tell how long had passed when Steve pulled you off of Eddie, shouting that you needed to go. Nancy and Robin had already yanked Dustin to his feet, Eddie’s guitar pick necklace dangling from his fist as the teen struggled against them. 

“Just… just let me…” you mumbled, flinching away from Steve’s arms as you plucked Eddie’s gaudy costume rings from his cooling fingers and hastily shoved them in the pockets of your jeans. You lifted him just enough to slip his vest from his shoulders, easing his limp arms through the holes where the sleeves had once been as gently as you could. It was bloody, there were rips in the fabric. 

You could see where he’d stitched your name beneath the flap in the collar, the embroidery haphazard and clumsy and so genuine that it hurt. Another scream ripped from you, your arms curling around Eddie’s shoulders on instinct as you pulled his limp form back to you.

Maybe if you held him long enough he would come back, laughing about how it was a misunderstanding of some elaborate prank he’d decided to pull. He would promise you that he was okay, making you taste the costume blood just to assure you that it was fake. Then he would grab your face between his hands and kiss your forehead and nose and lips, and you’d make him swear to never do something like that ever again because it felt like a part of you had died with him.

But he didn’t do any of those things. 

It took Steve forcing you off of him, arms locked around your waist and hauling you up from the ground. You thrashed and screamed and kicked, fighting him every step of the way as he dragged you back to the trailer. He was talking to you, but you couldn’t understand a word he said over your cries. 

Even as Steve forced you back through the gate to Hawkins, you could only think about how you’d never seen Eddie so quiet.

[parkvcrs]

Boyfriend! Wybie Lovat Headcanons

(for the sake of this post, the character’s age has been raised to seventeen)!

• First and foremost, how did this awkward and rambling mess ask you out?

- Well… that’s simple: he didn’t do a face-to-face interaction. Instead, Wybie, being a man of few words, decides to pour his heart out in a heartfelt letter to you. He carefully writes down all his feelings, expressing how he's fallen for you and how much you mean to him. He leaves the letter on the doorstep of the Pink Palace, along with your favourite flowers. You then find the letter and read it, finally realizing the depth of Wybie's emotions. When you finally rush to find him, Wybie initially tries to ignore you.

- Spoiler alert: It didn’t go as planned. He totally failed. After you finally confess to feeling the same way, you and Wybie shared a warm embrace where he begins to whisper sweet nothings into your ear, feeling overjoyed that his feelings are reciprocated.

• Who says “I love you” first?

- You. Definitely you.

- Despite you possessing enough courage to actually say these special words, Wybie had to admit that he was pretty upset that he didn’t say it first. You beat him to it! But another part of him couldn’t help but feel overjoyed that you said it first.

- He has very mixed feelings about it. -.- but he can’t stay mad at you! It wasn’t anything to hold a grudge over.

• Who initiated the first kiss?

- Depends on who you ask.

- You and Wybie’s first kiss happened on your third date which was in the garden belonging to the Pink Palace which happened to be a rather romantic picnic. During the middle of it, there was something in the air that caused Wybie to feel compelled to kiss you. Or that’s at least how he describes it happening.

- Despite how much arguing there is about who kissed who, Wybie is happy that you’re his first kiss. <33

• Date ideas?

- Even though Wybie has a naturally frantic outward personality, let’s face it… this man loves horror movies! I mean, have you seen his skeleton gloves?! But… he — for sure — screams like a girl from time to time if a jump scare gets him too good.

• Adventurous Dates: While the Pink Palace may not offer traditional adventures, Wybie is creative when it comes to planning dates. He loves taking you on spontaneous and unique dates, like stargazing on the rooftop of the Pink Palace, exploring hidden spots in their town, or taking you on a midnight picnic in the overgrown garden.

- And, yes, the black cat is more than welcome to come on all these little adventures but only if you’re okay with it!

• Would he be the type of boyfriend to take part in playful banter?

- Of course!

- Your relationship is filled with playful banter and teasing. He enjoys engaging in witty banter and playful teasing, keeping your relationship lighthearted and fun. Wybie's sense of humour and your (somewhat) quick comebacks create a playful dynamic that keeps your relationship light and enjoyable.

- If you just so happen to be shorter than 5’7”/170cm (his height), then you’re just asking for him to poke fun at you but not vocally. He’ll either do things like pat your head, use your shoulder as an armrest, or simply rest his chin on top of your head.

• How does he protect you? Is he supportive?

- If someone was messing with you, he’d try to use some sort of scare tactic to get them to stop. Either that be using a combination of his turret-lensed skull mask, skeleton gloves, black fireman’s coat, and motorbike. Who knows! He is full of surprises. :))

- And of course, he’s a supportive boyfriend! He always ensures that you feel safe and supported, and he's not afraid to stand up for you when needed. He's there to lend a listening ear when you need to talk, offer a shoulder to cry on, or simply your hand to offer comfort.

• Hobbies?

- I feel like Y/n and Wybie would bond over a shared love for the supernatural and mysteries, and often indulge in geeking over it together. The two of you may even spend evenings reading ghost stories by candlelight, researching local legends, or even trying to capture evidence of paranormal activity with their cameras.

- ^ If this type of stuff doesn’t interest you… then you can just be an observer of Wybie’s adorable antics. That way, you’ll have the front row seat for everything.

Final assessment?

• Wybie Lovat is a 100/10 boyfriend!

- He’s aromantic and devoted partner who will try his best to make you feel special, supported, and loved in every possible way.

[fairy-writes]

last one! can i order a large latte for Louis from MTP? thank youuu!!!

QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Prompt: Fluffy imagine with Louis from MTP

Word Count: 0.5k

Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): Louis James Moriarty x Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Fluff, Reader is implied to be shorter than Louis

Notes: This is like… Post-Timeskip… So manga spoilers, I guess? I’ll try to keep them to a minimum. (I also haven’t finished the manga; I was reading it as chapters were coming out, but I forgot to keep up with it)

__________________________________________________________________________

“I have a question.” You say suddenly as you break apart a head of lettuce. Louis looks up from where he’s cooking over the stove, eyebrow raised. You are both preparing dinner for the rest of your friends to celebrate William’s return.

“Yes?” He replied, and you look up at the ceiling, suddenly feeling very foolish. You shouldn’t be second-guessing Louis… He has always been so sure of himself since William disappeared. And even before his elder brother disappeared, he was confident in his decisions. 

“Do you actually like me?” You say, more under your breath than anything, but Louis hears it. 

The ladle stirring the soup stops, and Louis turns to face you, crossing the space between you in a few long strides. He works the knife from your grasp and sets it beside the chopped lettuce, cradling your fingers in his palms. 

Your eyes are drawn to his scar, faded and pinkish. Ever since the Final Plan was put into action and William disappeared, Louis had pushed his hair out of his face and ditched his glasses, exposing the self-inflicted scar for the world to see. 

Louis grabs your attention by pressing a kiss to your knuckles and holding them to his chest. He looks serious. 

“My love, I mean this in the best of ways.” He starts, and you feel your heart skip a beat. Was he going to reject you? “But we’ve been together for three years. We are getting married next year. I plan to spend the rest of my life with you. What the hell do you think?”

At that, you can’t help but laugh. Tears well up and overflow.

“Sorry.” You say, voice cracking and he pulls you into a hug.

“I’m sorry, love. I’ve been neglecting you. With Brother’s return, I haven’t been paying attention to you, and I can tell you’re hurting.” He says, and you huff out another dry laugh.

“What kind of partner am I if I can’t handle you planning a simple dinner?” You reply and feel him press a kiss to your temple. 

It isn’t long before you both return to your respective duties, working like a well-oiled machine to finish dinner preparations in record time. You leave Louis to set the table while you gather everyone who is waiting in the parlor. Just before you enter the room to let everyone know that dinner is ready, you slip on your engagement ring. 

It’s a simple gold band engraved with Louis’s initials. His has your initials engraved on the inside as well. Because it’s a reminder that you’ll always have a part of him and his love with you. And vice versa. 

You open the parlor door with a smile that stretches wider at Moran’s loud complaint of, “It’s about time!” 

“If you’ll follow me to the dining room, we can begin dinner.” You say, twisting the ring around and around your finger. 

You were silly to have doubted your fiancé. You knew he loved you fiercely. And you loved him just as intensely in return. 

[notmaplemable]

Mable's RWBY Redo: Volume 1 + Trailers

Hello hello, and welcome to my own version of FRWBY, but hopefully without the controversy. But I wouldn't really call this a "fix it" fic or anything. More just a writing exercise where RWBY was more planned out than it actually was/is.

Since it does seem to me that RWBY was written quite a bit by the seat of CRWBY's pants, at least in the earlier volumes. How much that changed, I don't claim to know. But there are a few things in RWBY that probably would've more impactful if they were setup earlier. So, I'm going to try to do that.

I will be keeping most of the major concepts of RWBY the same. Dust, Grimm, impractical but flashy weaponry, the White Fang and that whole thing, Salem, etc. But just because I'm keeping the concept, doesn't mean there won't be changes in execution.

There are also a few things that where the plan seems to have shifted at some point. Like the Raven plotline for example, it seems like Monty was the only one who really knew what he planned to do with that. So I might be willing to go a bit more "off the rails" with that specifically and a few other things.

I'm also going to try to keep in mind the resources RT would've had at the time of each volume. So I won't be immediately changing things to 22 minute episodes with 16 episodes a season or something like that.

I am, mostly, going to be taking an episode by episode approach to this. Though I don't really have any experience with screen writing or what you can fit into a certain amount of runtime. So I'm not going to write out all the dialogue and things for most scenes. Just giving summaries and a few scenes of particular importance.

Though I think here would be a good time to respond to a few comments something like this might get.

No, I don't think I could've done better than CRWBY. No, I don't hate RWBY, I rather love it. No, I'm not going to sideline RWBY for a bunch of "straight white male" characters. No, I'm not going to erase all the LGBT representation. Yada yada yada. If you don't want to read something like this, you are more than welcome to block me or whitelist the tag. This is more or less just a fun writing exercise for me.

I'm doing the ships I want though.

So with that said, let's hop right in.

------

Trailers

The red and yellow trailers will be completely unchanged.

The white and black trailers will be unchanged as far as what happens in each trailer.

For the white trailer, the change won't really be to the trailer itself, but more so something that changes things post fall of beacon. The arma gigas fight didn't actually happen and that's not how Weiss got her scar. Why? One fan fic had her get the scar a different way and I like it more than the canon way.

That's really it.

For the black trailer, Blake's design is the only thing that's changing. Now, it's not going to be a complete redesign. Mostly because introducing the rest of RWBY but Blake with their canon outfits would kind of be weird and require a good bit of extra work. I'd imagine at least.

So I'm just going to have her not wear the bow, and with shorter hair. Not quite what she had in Atlas though, probably something closer to Kali's actually. And add some white fluff to her inner cat ears to make them a bit less... flat.

Now, that does remove the dramatic reveal that she's a faunus for the audience. But I think the dramatic irony of only the audience knowing that can make up for it. And the hair can be a bit of a rough signifier of how long between the black trailer and her appearance in V1 was.

And just for the in universe logic of Blake not looking exactly the same if she thinks Adam is going to be coming after her. It's not much of a change, but it is a change.

------

Volume 1

I'm not going episode by episode in V1, since there really isn't that much I want to change. But I will be shortening to the volume to 10 episodes instead of 16. With the volume ending after "Players and Pieces" with 2 more episodes added to initiation. Which I imagine will mostly just be added action and maybe some conversation.

The first major change is going to be that Jaune still doesn't have his aura unlocked, but he knows what aura is. Or, at least the 5 minutes of research on Remnant's version of google's version of what aura is. He's gonna be looking for a way to have it unlocked. Maybe add in a throwaway like where he wonders to himself if he should ask Ruby to do it.

The second major change is actually something we aren't going to see. The reason why Blake decided to make Yang her partner, since she does seem to purposely seek Yang out in canon but we never really hear the reason. But honestly I can't think of a good enough reason at the moment besides Yang knowing Blake's secret. So we'll just save that for a flashback later and have it implied there was a deeper reason for now.

Everything else pre-initiation should be the same.

Once we get to the cliffs before everything starts, CRDL will not be there. Since we aren't doing jaunedice yet there's no reason to have them yet. We'll also have it stated that there are multiple launch sites and have Ozpin say something along the lines of "of the 200 of you that will go into the forest today, only 50 of you will pass," to give us more of an idea of the size of the class. Though the numbers can be changed to whatever.

Then things get started, everyone partners up, Ren doesnt kill a king taijitu because power scaling. We see Ruby and maybe a few others cutting through the unarmored beowolves, adolescent beowolves to be precise, with relative ease and start to struggle once the armored ones start showing up. To help with the power scaling a bit.

Jaune convinces Pyrrha to help "boost" his aura so he can heal faster. Pyrrha knows that's not how that works but goes along with it anyways. With her having some suspicions of Jaune, but not confronting him about it since... you know.

Everything else in initiation should be pretty much the same. Maybe with an extra fight scene or two. Ruby and Jaune are still named leaders. But we do get a small scene afterwards with both teams heading to their dorms which are of course, right across the hall from each other.

So, a bit after sundown the two teams go into their dorms, with Ruby and Jaune deciding to stay out for a second for a quick chat.

------

The two new leaders stand in front of their dorms, neither of them saying a word for a moment before Jaune decided to speak.

Jaune: You running up that that cliffside to kill that giant bird grimm was probably the coolest thing I've ever seen.

Ruby: You mean the Evermore? *Jaune nods* Well, it was nothing really... I just saw an opportunity and took it. You know?

Jaune: I guess.

Ruby: But your team took down the Deathstalker, right? I bet that was super cool too.

Jaune: Everyone else did all the work. I kind of just stood there hiding behind my shield.

Ruby: But Pyrrha said you were the one who figured out how to take it down.

Jaune: Yeah, but-

Ruby: No buts! Besides, a good plan can be the difference between life and death sometimes. At least that's what my Uncle Qrow says.

Ruby: That's probably why Professor Ozpin made you a leader.

Jaune: *Rub the back of his head* Yeah... Heh, maybe he made you a leader since you're so good a pep talks.

Ruby: I guess...

JR: ...

Ruby: ...We've been training most of our lives to fight Grimm and bad guys. Maybe learning how to be leaders won't be so hard, right?

Jaune: ...Right.

*RWBY's dorm door opens*

Yang: Hey, Rubes, what are you still doing out here?

Ruby: Just talking to Jaune.

Yang: *Looks at Jaune* Vomit Boy.

Jaune: Can you please not call me that?

Yang: Not until you unruin my boots. *Turns back to Ruby* Now come on, we need our leader, and my favorite little sister, to pick who gets the bed closest to the bathroom.

Ruby: Oh, okay. I'll see you tomorrow Jaune.

Jaune: *smiles* Have a good night, Ruby.

Ruby: *Goes into her dorm with Yang*

Jaune: *Soon after Ruby shuts her dorm door Jaune's smile turns into a look of pure guilt as he stands silent in the dimly lit hallway*

Roll credits

------

And that's the end of volume 1. Not sure when I'll get to the next volume, but it'll be sometime soon. V2 should be more detailed, and will probably end up being longer than one post.

So yeah, tell me what you think and I'll see you next time.

[romanarose]

Darkness on the Edge of Town: Epilouge

Chapter 1 : Chapter 2 : Chapter 3: Chapter 4 Masterlist Join my taglist

Fic Summary: Right before a mandatory FEDRA lockdown, Joel saved a woman in an ally from FEDRA guards and is forced to house her for the entire lockdown. I.e theres only one bed

Chapter Summary: Joel get's you out.

Warnings: Mostly just feas of potential SA, nothing that actually happens or is anything to be afraid of, mostly in reference to women being nervous around strange men

Immersability: Reader has no age gap, is implied to be approximately Joel's age, possibly older than Tommy. Is not concerned about pregnancy.

A/N: For readers of The Wrong Way on ym alt account, theres a few not so subtle easter eggs LMFAOOOO

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

Tommy proved a lot easier to talk to, at least compared to Joel’s initial reaction to you. Still, you didn’t feel as comfortable with Tommy as you did by the end of your time with Joel. He was nice, friendly. Tommy was given a vehicle which made the journey shorter… if you knew where you were going. You realize the insanity of traveling across the country with a man you didn’t know, but what options did you have? He was safer than Ross to be sure. You had weighed the options before you left.

Joel told you the plan, that his brother would get you out, take you with him where he was going and leave you somewhere safe. Tommy had promised Joel it was somewhere safe, but wouldn’t tell him where. That was the deal, Tommy wouldn’t be telling Joel anything. He was supposed to check in with the fireflies and they would tell him updates that he was safe, and you were safe, but that was it. Then, Tommy would come back to Boston without you, and Joel wasn’t supposed to talk to Tommy ever again. The secrecy made you nervous, but Joel trusted Tommy completely. There wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that Tommy would get you to safety and that Tommy wouldn’t hurt you.

The other option was Ross. Ross, and whoever Ross let at you. You couldn’t fight off a gang of men, no matter how strong you were, how physically capable. 10 men were 10 men. Even if Tommy wanted something in return for taking you, you wouldn’t be thrilled but laying there and taking it was a more desirable to the alternative of Ross. Still, for days Tommy didn’t give any indication that he had any dark plans. 

He didn’t even seem like you were of any interest to him. You never caught him sneaking a peak when you relieved yourself or bathed, he never hinted or asked any inappropriate questions. He seemed a lot like Joel in that sense. Honestly, under different circumstances, you would have initiated sex. He was attractive, he was charming, and a lot of fun to be around. Sex to you wasn’t a huge deal, especially at your age. That’s why you were so ready to sleep with Joel…

But right now, you still felt loyal to him . Joel saved you multiple times, but you genuinely connected to him. Sure, maybe he already slept with someone. You two had no pretense of being an actual couple, of any sort of loyalty. It was something to fill the time, and boy, did it fill you. You would need a little time before you went for someone else.

“Whatever you wanna know, you can just ask me.” You said Tommy one night a few days in as the two of you reclined the car seats. It was getting colder out, so you and Tommy scooted towards each other and shared a blanket. There wasn’t an air of sexual tension, even with your shoulders touching. It just felt brotherly. You had felt his eyes on you for a while as you tried to sleep. “I know you got questions.”

His voice was gravely next to you. “I think you got a few too.”

You sigh. “I’m not sure I want the answers.”

“Yeah. Me neither.”

Finally, you open your eyes and turn over to where he’s looking at you, eyes soft and brown. “C’mon. Question for question.”

“You start.”

“You’re the one staring at me with your puppy dog eyes all the fucking time. Go on, ask what I know you’re dying to.”

He rolled his eyes, sitting up and resting on his arm, but smiling gently. “Alrighty, I’ll bite. Who are you to Joel.”

A small shrug. “I’m not sure I’m anything, really. He saved me from Ross, as you know, and we got stuck in his apartment for a week.”

Tommy’s face grew more serious. “‘N he was good to yuh?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “Real good.” Teasing him, you lean in with a smile. “And we fucked, too.”

“UGH!” Tommy groans, cringing hard and making a disgusted face, shoving you away. “Sick. Awful.”

You laugh at his reaction, goading him on more. “It wasn’t awful, it was actually pretty damn great-”

“EW!” Tommy attempts to cover your mouth, laughing along now too.

You keep dodging his hand. “Got reeeeeal hot and heavy too-”

“BLEH!”

When you finally stop, you both are chuckling. You like Tommy, you’re glad he’s the one taking you if it couldn’t be Joel. As you two settle down, you both stare up at the ceiling. It was peaceful out here. South Dakota, along I-90. When you’d get to Rapid City, Tommy would radio the Fireflies to tell Joel you both were safe. If you were lucky, Joel might have given them a message to give you two, but you weren’t sure the fireflies would pass it along. You got the feeling Joel was not popular among them.

Tommy calls your name, and you look towards him again. “He make you do any of that?” It’s clear what Tommy’s asking, and you understand his concerns. 

“Oh god no.” You chuckle in response. “I brought it up. I had to tell him multiple times that i didn’t feel forced or noth’n. Like, multiple times. And then it just…”

“It's just what.”

You shrug again. “Turned into someth’n more. I dunno. But he was good to me. Don’t you worry ’bout that.”

He nods, taking it all in. “Alright, your turn.”

“Hm? Oh, right. Well… you told Joel… well, you made it sound like he did a lot of bad shit.”

Tommy sighs, sinking further in his seat. “Yeah, I did. Joel and I… we did a lot of bad shit back in the day. The things I saw him do…” He shakes his head. “I can’t even look at him now.”

“He see you do shit too?” You ask.

He huffs, but says yeah.

“He do worse than you?”

Tommy shifts in his seat. “I donno.”

You let him sit in his thoughts for a moment before speaking again. “I ain’t gonna tell you what you gotta do or who you gotta talk to. I don’t know your story. But I know we’ve all done fuck up things… and I know Joel loves you. Whatever happened, he ain’t surviving for himself. There's too much pain in his eyes for that. Joel… he survives for others. I ain’t tryna guilt trip you, Tommy… but I think we’re both alive because of him.”

Tommy didn’t say anything, simply staring ahead at the windshield until you fell asleep. You don’t think he slept much that night.

*

It had been years, your life at the QZ felt like a miserable nightmare. Life was good in Jackson.

You worked hard, but were rewarded with a bountiful life and good friends, Tommy remained one of them. When you and Tommy found the settlement of Jackson, it didn’t take long at all for the two of you to decide to abandon Tommy’s plans and loyalties with the Fireflies and settle here in Jackson. The fact he’d be caught spending every free second during your respite with the pretty and slightly scary leader may have influenced his decision. You, however, were thrilled to be somewhere with running water and electricity, especially with summer coming. You could not be happier with your choice.

Right now, however, you were grumpy.

Sick with the flu, you’d been stuck at home all day while the town had its movie night. Goddammit. You always miss the good shit. Lorenzo had told you to just go, but you didn’t want to infect anyone. A simple flu could kill much easier without modern medicine. 

Still, he was nice enough to bring you soup from the mess hall after.

“Can’t stay long. Zach wants me home early to get a good nights sleep ‘for once’.” Lorenzo rolled his eyes and did finger quotes, but with a smile. His husband loved and cared about him, as Lorenzo did Zach “I just thought I’d let you in on the hot gossip.” He said with a smile, pulling out two joints and handing one to you. 

You sniffle, sounding congested as hell as you rock in your rocking chair. “Did Jack get dumped again? I swear to god, it’s every week. Maura told me in high school he-”

“No, no, no! It’s even better!” He said with a grin, not hesitating before lighting up in your living room, a motion which you followed. “A stranger rolls into town, tall! Dark! Handsome!”

You can’t help roll your eyes. “You're married.”

“Hey, Zach called him handsome first, okay?” Lorenzo’s thick Boston accent came out even more when he was animated. “Anyway, he’s a father too. Road in with a teenager I dunno, 17? Or 10?”

“Those are wildly different ages.”

Lorenzo brushed you off. “Whatever, point is, single father. That's hot.”

You scrunch up your nose. “Are we sure that’s his daughter? Not some sicko we gotta kill?”

“Now, see, I ASKED THAT!” Lorenzo waves his hands around. “But Zach asked Jack who asked Maura who asked Maria-” Deep breath. “Who was suuuuuuper fucking cryptic about it. Seems Tommy knows him, and you know how Tommy is about his past.”

You did know, actually. You lean in with a smile, happy someone is filling you in on what you missed. “What’d she say?”

“Just that the girls his kid, and she’s taken care of and” More finger quotes “‘Tell Lorenzo to mind his damn business’”

That made both of you laugh. You and Lorenzo frequently caused problems despite your age. All in good, harmless fun, but the two of you were more like teenagers sometimes, and more often than not, you dragged a few friends into it.

“Are they staying in Jackson?”

“Doesn’t seem like it. Dunno why though, nice place for a kid here. But maybe her mom is somewhere out there. Either way, I’m gonna try and talk to him tomorrow, maybe-”

A knock on the door. Lorenzo frowned. “Damn honey, you got friends other than me?”

“Oh shut the fuck up.” You giggle, kicking him. “Answer the door for me, I’m sick and dying.”

Lorenzo kicked you back, but did as you asked. You couldn’t see who was there, but watched Lorenzo. “Oh. Uh. Hello?” 

“Renzo, whose there?” You call. Lorenzo turns around, mouthing dramatically. ‘Oh my gooooood’

He turns back. “Can I help you?” You don’t hear the reply, but Lorenzo keeps a hand on the door handle and on the frame. Goofy gossip he is, he is no idiot and takes your safety seriously. He’s not just going to let anyone inside. Lorenzo turns around to face you again. “Hey, you know a Joel?”

Joel. Blood rushes through you and you stand up, wobbly. The man from Tommy’s past is Joel. Who the hell is the kid? Him and Tess have a secret daughter or something? You hadn’t told Lorenzo, or anyone for that matter, of how you escaped the QZ out of respect for Tommy and his desire to leave that life behind him, so it’s no wonder Lorenzo looked so confused. “JOEL?!” 

A tall, insanely broad body pushed past Lorenzo, and you ran to him despite your illness. Joel calls your name, breathes it out like a sigh of relief, a breath he’s been holding since you left.

*

It had been a long day for Joel. Seeing Tommy again was incredible, Gods grace, and knowing he was not only alive but thriving healed something in him.

You were the cherry on top of the sundae. 

He held out no hope that you’d remained single. It would be selfish and stupid… but he couldn’t deny to himself that he was relieved when you explained the man who opened the door to your home was not only not a husband or boyfriend, but married himself and not a threat.

Joel sat on the couch and was thrilled when you immediately scooted right next to him. You spent hours catching up, he explained it all to you, everything with Ellie, how he got here. All the loss… In turn, you told him your travels with Tommy, the life you have here now… And how you’re single. Finally, Joel explained why he came here.

Originally, when Tommy said you were here, he wasn’t going to try and find you. It’d just hurt too much to say goodbye again when he’d already to leaving Tommy… but then he decided he wasn’t leaving, that Tommy would take Ellie… then the fight with Ellie. He needed you. Joel explained the fight.

“Joel…” You said, admonishing him gently and you stroked his hair. Joel was laid out on your lap.

“I know, I know… I just… It’s like that book.”

He can feel your stomach chuckle. “White Fang, I know the one.”

“Yeah. That one. I just… I felt like I had to hurt her, to get her to let go on me. Tommy would be better. He’s younger, stronger, kinder.”

“But he’s not you.” You wait until Joel looks up at you. “You’ve protected her this far. She trusts you. She don’t know Tommy at all and baby.” You card your fingers through his curls. “He’s a man she doesn’t know. That’s a scary thing, she don’t know what kind of man he is.”

Joel starts to sit up, defensive. “Tommy ain’t no-”

“Baby, relax, I know.” You settle him down, de-ruffle his feathers. “I know, Tommy’s the sweetest piece of pie. But she don’t know that. Most importantly, she trusts you . She loves you .” You lean down to kiss his forehead. “I’d love for you to stay here with me, I really would, and if you want, I’ll be waiting here for you. But I think you know what you need to do.”

*

He did. He had to give her a choice. Unsurprisingly and illogically, Ellie chose him. Joel swore he’d come back to you, that he’d make things right with Ellie and get her where she needed to be…

When he thought he was dying, it was Ellie, Tommy, Sarah, you who ran through his head.

And months later, after all the violence and carnage and almost losing Ellie twice, when he walked into town, after seeing and hugging Tommy and meeting his little niece, Catherine Sarah, it was you he went searching for. 

Unsurprisingly, he found you at the bar with Lorenzo again, and who he later found was Lorenzo’s husband, Zach. Throughout the years, Joel would get to know your friends, and consider them friends of his own. He’d marry you, Tommy standing as his best man and your close friend both, little Catherine as your flower girl. You’d get to know and love Ellie, provide the maternal figure she needed in her life and a mediation between the two when things got tense. He’d fuck you into the mattress that night and you’d ride him for what seemed like hour the next morning, spending a day in bed until both of you were too aching a raw to go again. That would all come latter.

Right now, as he approached you from behind and Lorenzo not to subtly kicked you, to make you turn around, only one thing mattered.

“Joel!”

“Hey baby, can I have this dance?”

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

sweetiiiieeesssss

Anyway yall theres your happy ending you wanted!!!!

Now were all wrapped up.

if you didnt see, I'm doing commissions bc im a lil tight on finances rn, so if you like my work, consider buying a piece! they start at $5!

@trinkets01 @ninebluehearts @luciannadraven33 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @buriednurbckyrd @hiroikegawa @whatthefishh @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @koshkaj-blog @daddysfavoritesexkitten @csara615 @notesonpretty @kirsteng42 @mundivagantsoul @harriedandharassed @sofiparellel @orcasoul @noisynightmarepoetry

[crumbleclub]

More Unorganized Afton Headcanons

William is actually from northern England (maybe like Middlesbrough area) but he's been faking a posh accent since he was a teenager

Michael spent most of his childhood being percieved as older than he actually was, mostly due to gaunt facial features, and later due to being very tall for his age. Because of this, adults often looked after him less, as they subconsciously registered him as more self-sufficient and mature than he actually was (and he was behind due to neglect anyway)

Elizabeth is a literal, actual prodigy, but she's emotionally stunted due to neglect as well

Evan's skills are the most behind, and he generally comes off as younger than he actually is. Emotionally, he's the most typically-responding

Michael was a college mistake that William initially didn't want to take responsibility for. William was only 21 when he was born.

It was either Henry's affection for his own family or his direct interference that convinced William to actually be involved with Mike at all (I haven't decided which yet for blips, lol)

Elizabeth and Evan were both planned. William wanted to get the whole "family" thing right, just like Henry had.

None of the Afton kids have ever met their grandparents on either side. Even alluding to the topic is completely forbidden in their household.

Elizabeth and Michael were close when they were little, but started growing apart by the time he started middle school

Both brothers were hit really hard by her death, but they responded in opposite ways. Evan became withdrawn and frightened, while Mike acted out and became aggressive

Michael and William are both unusually asymmetrical. They both have notable deviated septums, but ended up breaking their noses so that they bent opposite ways. One of Mike's legs is shorter than the other, enough to make him a clumsy runner. Their eyes don't quite level out, either. They both chalk this up to genetics.

Evan has a little bit of this. He had a cleft lip on only one side as a baby– which was surgically repaired– and one of his dimples is more noticable when he smiles than the other

Elizabeth looks more balanced. William remarked that, compared to the rest of them, she looked like a little doll

There have been a handful of occasions where William has essentially forced Michael to do something outright cruel, beyond what he would on his own, or when he's seen something he shouldn't have. Mike represses these completely, and can't access the memories even post-scoop. These were experiments on William's part, rather than any type of training with an intended goal

William drinks too much, but it's more of a binge drinking sometimes type of thing than a constantly a little drunk type of thing. It started as a way to self-medicate anxiety and paranoia

More often than not, he's actually less violent and more affectionate when drunk. The younger two sort of prefer him that way because they're so starved for affection, but Michael hates it. It's just wildly confusing to have his dad be nice all of the sudden, and it hurts way more knowing that he'll forget everything and be mean again later

Earlier in the cycle, though, ie only a few drinks in, he can be less predictable and easier to anger. Luckily for the Afton kids, he tends to be out of the house for his first round of drinks, only coming home when the bartender cuts him off

When he gets older, Michael avoids alcohol like the plague. He can't stand the smell. There were a few incidents where he tested the waters as a teenager, though, and every time he overestimated his alcohol tolerance and ended up blackout drunk and super sick

If she survived to adulthood, Elizabeth would be a wine aunt. Not sure about Evan

Elizabeth is fairly popular at school. Michael is known to be a delinquent of sorts. Evan doesn't have any close friends, but he's not really disliked, either. He's just "the quiet kid"

William, Elizabeth, and Michael all have "super charming" powers. William and Elizabeth are both charismatic and confident, so they just generally come across well. Michael is more awkward when he tries to actually talk to people, but he can get by on acting cute and playful to make people like him. He can't talk his way out of much, but a smile and a head tilt goes a long way

Evan is like Michael in that he's socially awkward, but he has no idea how to manipulate anyone. If he gets out of trouble, it's because he actually sobs himself sick

Every Afton child would be really into pokemon had they grown up 10-20 years later

Evan is a cool rock collection kid

Elizabeth is the best liar– better than William– but Michael is pretty good as well. Evan can't lie. He'll cry.

Mike was briefly in foster care when William had been arrested and was awaiting trial (he was found to be innocent). One home in particular was awful for him, and he cycled through a few others for acting out (nobody ever questioned why)

He lived with Henry for a while also. There was some healing there, at least

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

INEVITABLE [6]

din djarin x female!reader

warnings: language, discussion of the slave trade, past trauma, some canon violence, mentions of murder

word count: 2,040

Summary: It was like fate or destiny had planned from the beginning for you to be on the run from the law. With the words ‘I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold’ adorning your rib cage you always wondered what was worse: Knowing you were bound to being wanted or realizing your soulmate was a cursed bounty hunter. You had a mission to finish and no bounty hunter, soulmate or not, was going to stop you.

[a/n: i'm sorry this is on the shorter side, it was supposed to be longer, but i didn't want to leave y'all with nothing today]

[previous][next]

06: PARTNERS IN CRIME

.

"i don't trust easily, so when i tell you i trust you, please don't make me regret it." -unknown

.

Tatooine’s suns were only just beginning to rise when the three of you prepped to leave Boba Fett’s palace. You stood outside in the already hot air watching as Mando strapped supplies to the speeder bike. Grogu ran circles around the speeder as Fennec stood with both the father and son chatting. 

“Early morning is my favorite time of day on Tatooine.” Boba’s low voice rumbled as he came to stand beside you. Initially, you had been worried that the daimyo would be stuck up or intimidating, but Boba was nothing of the sort. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He was Mandalorian. You had a very strong suspicion that if you were to cross the man you’d find him more than intimidating. However, as a friend to his friend, you found him nothing but pleasant. Boba had a calming energy about him that almost naturally put you at ease. “Seeing the suns cresting over the Dune Sea is quite the sight.”

“I bet.” Your arms were crossed over your chest. “I kind of wish we could’ve stayed longer.” The words tumbled out of your lips before you could run them through your mental filter. You shrugged. “Sorry. I’m not trying to mooch another night off you, I swear.”

Boba chuckled. “I did not take it that way in the slightest. You are always welcome here, little one. We’d be more than happy to open our doors to you.”

“Thanks.” You glanced at him. “It’s just weird. There’s not a lot of places in this galaxy that I’ve liked enough to stay for longer than 24 hours.” It was the truth. All the places you visited, not a single one of them felt like a location you’d like to linger at. Usually, you were raring to go⏤ to get to the next place. Here though, you could see yourself spending a few extra days and not minding it. You shrugged. “I guess I’m just trying to say, you got a great place here.”

“Have you ever considered that perhaps it is less the location and more your company?” Boba replied with a hum.

You nodded quickly. “Oh, of course, I’m sure! You and Fennec are great. I don’t even hold the whole ‘held at blaster point’ by Fennec thing against her because that’s most people’s reaction to me.”

“Thank you, but I mean the Mandalorian you travel with.”

“What?”

Boba nodded his head forward and you followed the direction to where Mando stood with his hands on his hips lightly scolding Grogu for something or another while the child just grinned at him impishly. Fennec held the child in her arms and obviously was siding with the boy. Boba chuckled, “Perhaps, you only find the location bearable because you finally have a travel companion.”

You had mentioned last night over dinner that your travels had kept you mostly alone. Mando was the first technical partner you had chosen to pair up with. You let his words echo through your head to see if any of it would ring true. The argument for it was there. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you could be yourself without repercussion. That was nice.

“I…Yeah.” You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat. “Mando is…nice.”

The daimyo’s words made it dawn on you that you were actually growing attached to the father and son. Traveling with them felt natural and if you kept down this path that meant one day traveling without them would feel wrong. Mando was just helping you out on a mission. That didn’t mean he wanted you around long term. Plus, getting attached was a dangerous prospect. You needed to proceed with caution.

“He’s a good man.” Boba nodded. “Strong, protective, loyal. Smart when he takes the time to think his actions through.” You chuckled at his words. “If you were going into war, he is the man you would want by your side. And, chances are, you wouldn’t even have to ask him to follow. He would volunteer. That’s why he makes friends all over the galaxy whether he knows it or not.”

You raised an eyebrow and teased. “Did Mando pay you to come over and talk him up?”

“I’m doing it at no cost.” He replied with a smile. Boba crossed his own arms and gave you a small nod. “I want to ask you to look after him. Mando would move mountains for you, and I hope you would at least watch his back.” You blinked in surprise. “We care about him a great deal and we always worry. It’s nice to know he has more back up than just Grogu.”

You let out a small laugh at the thought of the small green child playing the role of back up for the Mandalorian. As if he could hear your thoughts, Mando turned in place to look at you. Boba had to be exaggerating when he said Mando would move mountains for you. That seemed ridiculous. Despite knowing that it was just a common analogy, you felt the stirrings of something protective inside of you. It had been a long time since you had anyone to even call a friend, surely that was the source of this feeling. Mando lifted a hand and made a motion for you to come over.

“I will.” You blurted. When you glanced over at Boba, he had his eyebrows lifted and you gave him a tight lipped smile. “I’ll watch his back. I promise.”

Boba gave you a kind smile followed by a small nod. 

It surprised you how sincere the promise felt coming from your lips.

Mando had asked you a question. He now sat in the pilot’s seat of the Razor Crest with Grogu bouncing in his lap while you took your now usual seat. The Mandalorian was cruising the ship out of the atmosphere and it took a moment for his question to register with you.

He glanced back, “So?”

“Uh,” You paused. He had asked you about where you needed to go next. “I have a list.”

“Alright. What’s next on your list?” Mando continued. Rather than answer, you stared at the back of his helmeted head. Boba’s talk had truly gotten you thinking. It spoke volumes to the kind of man that Mando was that his friends thought so highly of him. He had only proved all those good things by offering to help you. The line of thought made you wonder. If you were willing to watch his back as a partner didn’t that extend a certain degree of trust? Mando certainly had yet to give you a reason not to trust him. The ship was coasting in the expanse of space, when Mando turned in his seat to look at you. “Hey, are you alright? You’ve been quiet.” With a slight teasing tone, he added. “I’m not used to that.”

You smirked, “So you admit to liking the sound of my voice?” Mando chuckled in response. You shifted to the edge of your seat. Grogu, who was still on the man’s knee, reached out and you held out a hand so the kid could play with your fingers with a coo. You took in a quick breath, steeling yourself, then blurted out, “I’m looking for a man named Reaper.” Mando tilted his head in surprise or confusion you weren’t sure. “I was told he hides out in a cantina. That’s why I’m always there.”

“The Reaper?” Mando questioned.

“Yeah. Stupid name, right?”

Mando nodded his head but didn’t speak. He lifted Grogu off his lap and into yours. You took the child and watched as he turned in his seat. Mando pressed a few buttons on the control panel of the ship and he mumbled a caution before the ship kicked into hyperdrive. When the Razor Crest was on course and moving steadily, he turned back around.

“Thyreps.” Mando blurted.

“Uh, what?”

“The Reaper was last seen in Thyreps from the rumors I’ve heard.” Mando said simply as if it were the most obvious information in the worlds. “So, unless he moved, that’s where we’ll find him.” For a moment, all you could do was stare at the man with wide eyes. This was what you had been searching for. It felt almost unreal to have the answer after all this time. “Mirdala runi?”

“Just like that?” You laughed. “We’re on our way, right now, to the Reaper?”

“If he’s still there.” Mando corrected. His tone made it sound like he was trying to keep your hopes down just in case. Meanwhile it took all your strength to not jump out of your seat and tackle him in a hug.

“How?” A laugh bubbled out from your lips. “Do you⏤ Do you know the Reaper?”

“I know of him.” Mando shook his head.

“Everyone knows of him, but how did you know about Thyreps?” You pressed. “I don’t even recognize that world. I never would’ve gone there.”

“It's a tiny Outer Rim world, and as for him…”

Your eyes widened and you pointed at him. “I swear to the Maker, if you say he’s a friend…”

Mando let out a soft chuckle, “More like, a friend of a friend.” Your eyes widened. “I never actually met the guy. There’s a smuggler in Thyreps I’ve known for a while. The Reaper used to run with her crew so I’ve heard a story or two.”

“Mando,” You shook your head with another laugh, disbelieving and relieved, “You have no idea how much this means to me. I⏤ Thank you.” 

“I…appreciate,” Mando started then winced as if he didn’t like his choice of words, “you telling me. I’m glad you trusted me with this.” He cleared his throat and your smile widened at how flustered he seemed. “I know that’s a big deal for you.”

“Apparently I should’ve told you sooner.” You joked. Grogu gave you a few pats on the hand, and you opened your arms so he could jump down. The little boy wandered to his pod then drove it toward the ladder. You stood up with a chuckle. “I should follow him. Make sure he doesn’t eat two weeks of rations in one sitting.”

You had only gotten a step or two away when a gloved hand wrapped around your wrist. Even through the leather glove, you felt your stomach flip at the contact. You glanced back at Mando to see he was now standing. The grip around your wrist was tender and careful⏤ almost hesitant. His thumb traced the inside of your wrist.

“I⏤I trust you too.”

“Thanks.” You gave him a small smile. “But, you don’t have to say that, Mando. I⏤”

“Din.”

You blinked once, confused, and then shook your head. “What was that?”

“Din.” He repeated himself. His hand tightened around your wrist a bit, a gentle squeeze, “That’s my name. Din Djarin.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. He had trusted you with his name. That seemed so significant. More so than simply handing over the information of who you’ve been searching for. His thumb traced another circle on your wrist. You repeated the unfamiliar name. “Din Djarin.” He nodded once. It felt odd to know it, but the more you repeated the name in your head the more fitting it felt. You chuckled, “Does this mean I’m not allowed to call you ‘bucket head’ anymore?”

Din laughed and shook his head, “I would never dare deprive you of that pleasure.”

“Good.” You replied warmly. The two of you stood in a comfortable silence. Din had drifted a step closer and it was only then that you realized his hand was still around your wrist. Staring up into the visor of his helmet you felt your heart stutter in your chest. The sensation was so jarring that you let out an awkward laugh and took a step back⏤ breaking the spell. Din cleared his throat and his hand fell away from your wrist. “I need to go check on Grogu.”

“Yeah. That’s⏤ Good idea.” Din nodded.

You gave him a tight lipped smile and shifted toward the ladder down to the cockpit again. “Thanks for trusting me with your name, bucket head.”

mando'a translations

mirdala runi: clever soul

taglist:

@onceinamando @hrtsforpascal @lil-dragon-draws @harriedandharassed @aheadfullofsteverogers @elfamosotoga @the-anchored-sailor-girl @garbo-lesbo @moonlqghts @stokeholdsblog @morks-watermelon @http-onie @chonkercatto @xalphafox @pedrojoe @zarahbronstein @cockscombkingdom @ale0m @shelbyteller @fallinallinmendes @grandtheoristpeach @perilous-pasta @love-the-abyss @kneelforloki @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @marvelouslytrekking @lady-winchester @liadamerondjarin @vampseddie @guccistardust @smexy-bucky-waifu @mayaaaaah @theway-thisis @keepingitlokiii @catharinaroxastova @andreasworlsboring101 @theclassicvinyldragon @your-slutty-gf @i-cant-write-for-shit @ponyboys-sunsets @honeybug-victoria @godesspsyche @cookielovesbook-akie

[a-cat-in-toffee]

POST WHERE I TALK ABOUT MY HERO OUTFIT DESIGNS FOR END OF SEASON 2 SLASH SEASON 3 PRIME DEFNDERS :33 LONG ASS POST FOR THE RECORD

also I have pictures of their og design in this so. warning for white skinny pd jumpscare /joking

for sake of navigation I'm going in the order I drew them, and the order theyre in on the above image heart emoji.

"Virion" Vyncent Sol up first!! also can we talk about how his hero name is straight up just his name. lol. lmao even.

I HAD THE MOST PLAN FOR VYNCENT GOING IN TBH I wanted something similiar to the origami outfit while still staying reminiscent of his old outfit

I knew I wanted the jacket and I went with the turtleneck so it was the same as Jason's outfit. also Jason has really cool glove sleeve things I thought that was so fucking cool guys. and vyncent is generally from an actual outfit standpoint like... really simplistic? so just ourple pants and boots seemed most logical. I liked the mask and it was in both of his old designs so I decided to stick with it.

and then of course. the belts. there are ten total belts on his outfit jot including the two that would come with the sheath LMAO. plus the two pd colored belts on his boots!! I decided while drawing I wanted them all to have something in eachothers colors cause thats really cute.

i MUCHHH prefer the shorter jacket because of how it shows off the outfit and is reminiscent of his s2 post fauna design . . .

generally had the most idea going into his so there was very little in ways of additional sketching

also the Japanese where Jason's jacket had said Origami straight up just says Knife. I thought that was so funny. ENTIRELY ACCIDENTAL THING his outfit is basically just cantrips but colors flipped LMAO

BUT THATS ALL FOR VYNCENT. next up is (drum roll please)

"Wisperer" William Wisp!!! El wiwi himself. OKAY SO AS YOU MAY NOTICE. THIS IS DIFFERENT THAN THE DESIGN I ORIGINALLY POSTED. I had Not been happy with that one because it felt too cluttered and a little out of character so I ended up redesigning his jacket and redrawing the refs.

WILLIAMS OUTFIT WAS REALLY FUN THO I ended up going with a gas mask like he had in the greyscale arc, hoodie (which will get its own paragraph), cargo pants!! for his cargo and gadgets and gizmos, and then. because it's me and he's william. platformish boots laced with the orlther pds colors.

the hoodie was the thing I had changed in the new design because the old design wasn't william wisp enough for me yknow

i wnjoyed the outfit and it looked really need but it was much more complicated than his original hero suit and didn't really seem like smthn he'd design and wear.

i really liked the wisp belt and wanted to keep that wisp motif, which is why I ended up putting the flames on his sleeves! it looks cool as hell and keeps w the flame designs. IM ALSO SUPER ATTACHED TO THE WISPERER W THAT WAS ON HIS ORIGINAL HERO DESIGN.... so the hoodie has a stylized w.

also dakota and vyncent beads :)

I HAD A.... PROCESS MAKING THIS ONE LMAO. SO THERES A HANDFUL OF DRAFTS

i cinsidered adding stuff to make his outfit like Silhouettes then remebered i haye Silhouettes outfit. the images are out of order but I'm on mobile and can't be fucked to fix it. NEXT UP!!!!!!

"DC" Dakota Cole! only SLIGHTLY better than vyncent just using his name, bro is using his initials......

I CHANGED THE LEAST ABOUT HIS DESIGN HONESTLY. it was very nice to just get to draw Dakota though :)

the most I changed was I made it a bit simpler, and changed the jacket to be more like the Hexpert armor

also made the zipper look like her weird chest thingy....

I REALLY DISLIKE THE SHOES AND THE LITTLE BITS ON HIS ANKLES THOUGH. SO I CHANGED EM. they're now his thing in the others color heart emoji. I'd like to think they all sat down together and brainstormed ways to encorperate eachother into their costumes.....

i also made a little note of the back of hia jacket and I tried to make it look like a jersey

because he played soccer :)

ALSO.... DAKOTA COLE HONEY YOU SHOULD NOT ME WEARING A BELT EITH A BUCKLE. but it looks cool </3 if a little impractical

BUT THATS ALL OF EM FOR NOW..... love these guys.

next I. tackle redesigning this thing.

sighs. I so got this

[genericpuff]

Winter is Coming - Rekindled schedule adjustment and plans for next year!

So it's that time of year now when conventions, markets, and expos for next year are rolling out their submission periods. So far I've gotten accepted to attend the Atlantic Entertainment Expo again (both venues so two shows), MiraCon, and I'm gonna be attending not one, not two, but THREE tattoo expos ! Which is definitely a lot, but I'm excited, it's gonna be good publicity and good money :' ) I'm also gonna be applying to HalCon, Geekquinox, and Animaritimes again, I didn't get in on HalCon this year and didn't find out about Geekquinox until submissions were done (and I only got in on Animaritimes at the last minute when they were looking for people to fill in) but if I do get into any (or all) of those, I'll have to play the fun game of "make sure none of these events land on the same weekend" LMAO

All that's to say, it's gonna be busy next year! (and all of those are the ones I actually decided to apply to, there are ones I did this past year that I'm not planning on doing again because they just didn't turn out to be as good as I had hoped). Thankfully, none of this is starting up until spring, so I'm gonna enjoy the winter off and get to work on new stuff to sell. I'm really eager to get through the rest of [AFTERBIRTH], it's still got quite some time until it's done but my plan is to pitch Thread of Fate to publishers once [AFTERBIRTH] is finished - and if it's not able to get in with those publishers, then I'm gonna pursue other means in getting it published, either digitally or traditionally. Time Gate is a series I've been working on for well over a decade of my life, and it's not something I want to keep throwing to the wolves of free-to-read platforms like WT. As much as I love being able to offer it for free, I want it to be taken more seriously than being just another free to read comic and that starts with me and how I choose to distribute it.

Right now working on all these things is sort of limiting due to the fact that I'm stuck on my iPad, but I'm making it work as best I can and I'm hoping to have the new PC setup going by the end of the year running with a new tablet (currently shopping around between an XP-pen and Huion, I don't want to get a Kamvas 22 Plus again if it's gonna shit the bed in 2 years like this one did, apparently this is a common problem from what I've seen :/)

So yeah, with all that in mind, I'm planning on adjusting Rekindled's update schedule. While I did initially want to offer a poll for y'all to choose between "shorter updates once a week" and "full updates once every 2 weeks", frankly I'm erring more towards the "every two weeks" one because it'll give me more actual time and room to work on everything else. Not to mention (and I'm sure you've all noticed by now) that I have a very specific way that I structure many of these episodes so making them shorter would sort of ruin that rhythm. I don't want to be sacrificing the comic's quality, pacing, or narrative progression for a schedule adjustment.

This isn't going to be an immediate change, I'm thinking of doing this sometime in December so that y'all can have a decent amount of heads up before the switch. I know it's gonna be a little painful to go to a slower release schedule but ultimately I think it's the best way to go so that I can balance all of the projects I have going on without sacrificing quality. Rekindled may be a free to read non-profit project, but I still hold myself to high standards and I want to do my best to deliver on those standards !

Thank you all so much for your patience and support. It seriously blows me away to see all of the wonderful comments, asks, and support for what I do here every day. I'm gonna do my best as well to respond to asks in my inbox as they come in, but please just know I get a LOT of them on a regular basis, it's sort of a Hydra situation where I respond to 1 or 2 and then get 4 more LOL That said, rest assured that I do read and appreciate each and every one of them <3 That also includes essay posts about LO, with LO returning in November I'll surely have more stuff to say about it so I'm gonna try and keep up as best I can :' )

On a final note, we're coming up to the one year anniversary of when I started posting actual episodes of Rekindled!! I'm so excited for this, I can't believe it's been a year!! And I have so much awesome stuff planned for the story that we're gonna see throughout the next year, I can't wait! Thanks so much for being a part of this project with me, I couldn't have asked for a better audience <3

(P.S. everything I have lined up for next year is lining up with the dry period for FF XIV between Endwalker and Dawntrail so I won't have distractions until the summer LMAOO)