#depends on how I feel in the morning (<- liar who will not wake up until the afternoon)

[mandrakeboo]

genshin fanon makes me sooo mad. like do they even realize that kaveh and alhaitham actually do talk to each other normally. that they usually don't bicker, and actually enjoy each other's company? that they have friendly debates and conversations? do they that they're both individuals with really high standards for themselves, and that's why they work so well together?

(more under cut so it's easier to scroll past)

or that gorou is a leader, and a general, who genuinely cares for each and every person in his army? who works very hard to grow stronger to attempt to present physically as the expectations of general say he should? that he isn't a weak or cowardly person, but instead gets harassed, misgendered, and unfairly treated by someone who he'll never have the social status to challenge? that all of his people who died under his orders, even in the fight for freedom, still weigh heavily on his heart? and that he'll have to deal with it for the rest of his life, because the only other person he has to support him has an even heavier burden of ruling an entire country while struggling with insomnia?

that baizhu isn't just his illness, but also isn't just healthy or normal either? that his life every day is the suffering and constant pain that comes with his contract, but also the wonder and beauty that comes alongside it with everyone he heals? that his humanity comes from his suffering, but also the good he creates alongside it?

to say it again because it's 12 and I Don't Need To Have Coherent Thought; fanon makes me sooo mad. noo the short guys aren't twinks. no the tall men and women aren't your waifus or husbandos (I think people who use those words should have their tongue cut out, only half kidding but nobody cares). nooo don't remove their emotional depth and turn them into a marketable plushie. don't collei them. cherish them and accept their flaws as who they are, not as something to be fixed or changed.

[iliektehhaxs]

NSFW Alphabet - Bi-Han Edition

Pairing: Bi-Han/Reader Authors Note: I look at this man and I can’t decide if I want him to choke me with his biceps or put him on his knees and make him call me mommy 🫠

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Bi-Han becomes extremely tender after sex, almost as if he’s a different person. When it’s just you two, bodies intertwined beneath the sheets, your head resting on his chest as you both slowly catch your breath, he can’t find it in himself to deny your beauty.

Your favorite moments are these, when the room is quiet save for the sound of the night and the rumble in his chest, when nothing matters except for you and Bi-Han. You live for these moments, revel in the way he softly strokes your hair and leaves kisses at your temple, the faintest smile gracing his normally stoic features.

The responsibility of Grandmaster is a tiring one, what you would give to be spoiled like this every day, to wake up and know that your boyfriend is waiting for you each morning, but perhaps that’s selfish to think about. For now, you can rest easy knowing that if nothing else, you can indulge in Bi-Han’s embrace now.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Bi-Han would be a liar if he said the sight of your ass in a nice pair of pants didn’t draw his attention. He sometimes thinks you do it on purpose, the way your hips sway when you walk past, enticing not only him but any man who becomes witness to your antics. It’s a point of pride to know that all they can do is watch and imagine while he is the only one in the world allowed to touch you, but it doesn’t still the jealousy within him when he knows the sight of you is enough to bring the attention of others. Perhaps he’ll teach you a lesson once he’s finished with his duties.

As for himself, it’s his hands. Hands that were trained for battle, hands that were trained to kill, he is very proud of his abilities. Recently his pride has been inflated when you mentioned you like his hands, not for their skill but for their size. Large enough to hold your close, or to press you further into the mattress.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Possibly his most favorite feeling in the world is being able to cum inside you, watch the mess that slides from between your folds and onto the bed in a messy puddle. The sight of you fucked out and delirious, his own seed staining the sheets is enough to drive him mad. More often than not it inspires him to fuck you harder.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He secretly loves that you’re feisty, that you give him a hard time and you’re quick to disagree with him. He grew up as the first born son and because of that he’s been surrounded by those who simply take his words at face value. It’s led to a very boring life, but then you steamrolled through it, stubborn thing that you are; You don’t hesitate to talk back, make it a point of interest to call him out when he’s being an asshole, and in his eyes it only makes him love you even more. He hates the idea of a partner who just listens to him like the other Lin Kuei do, so your attitude is very refreshing.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Bi-Han’s had sex before, but solely for the pleasure of it, not because of any romantic inclination. In his mind he needed to fulfill an urge, and once he had his fill the lady of his choice would leave; a purely transactional exchange. 

That being said, he is at the very least grateful for his previous encounters as they allow him to use what he’s learned on you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) 

It depends on his mood that night. If he’s feeling more romantic he’ll take his time with some missionary, letting every last inch of him sink into your needy cunt, his deep groans loud in your ears. Bi-Han has never been one for mindless praise, so when the only thing that leaves his mouth is pure adoration you know in your heart he means every word.

However, if you’ve been acting like a brat? He’s teaching you a lesson, a master of discipline as the Lin Kuei’s Grandmaster. Face down, ass up, back arched, and it’s going to stay that way until he’s certain you’ve learned your lesson or until your legs give out, to which he’ll drape himself over you and fuck you until it hurts to breathe.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

While he might be more relaxed when it’s just the two of you, he is definitely not making jokes during sex, it’s almost scary how serious he is about your pleasure. He doesn’t understand the need for comedy with such an intimate affair and he might even take offense.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) 

He is extremely groomed, from his face to his pubes. He has a regular grooming schedule and it’s a common sight to see him in the bathroom with a razor in hand. 

“Bi-Han?” You call out sleepily, unaware of your husband’s whereabouts.

A hum, and a quiet “In here.” Is enough to give you an idea. Your feet slowly paddled across the floor, and in the bathroom you see him slowly going over his face with a razor.

You enjoy the moment for what it is before speaking. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with facial hair.”

“It is easier to wear a mask without hair in the way,” he says bluntly. You agree with him, but can’t help but tease him a bit more.

“If it matters, I think you’d look good with a beard.”

His hands stop just for a second before moving again, the faintest smile on his lips. “I will keep that in mind.”

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

You wouldn’t expect it, but he is surprisingly romantic during the deed. Sex is a private occasion, unlike what happens outside your bedroom Bi-Han allows himself to be vulnerable, to let his emotions run rampant. It often results in a very intimate affair where he can finally express himself to you without any fear of judgement, where he can kiss you to his hearts content and admire your beauty up close without the weight of Grandmaster on his shoulders.

If you told anyone they’d have a hard time believing it, but Grandmaster Bi-Han is secretly a softy, at least where you’re concerned. Even if he seems standoffish in public, you know better.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Before you two were dating he would find himself dreaming of you in various compromising positions to the point that he felt angry at both himself for indulging in those thoughts, and you for occupying them.

There would always be a pang of guilt that ran through him knowing that he just touched himself to the thought of you, but he truly couldn’t help himself—you were just too much of a distraction.

After you two become a couple he’s become far more accepting of his needs, but even so he’d prefer you were there to assist him, so he can wait for a while.

The entire day has been trying, from morning to night Bi-Han hasn’t had a moments peace, not as long as you were around.

He thinks maybe you are a witch, that you’ve casted some kind of spell on him, a vile magic that makes his heart beat faster and his tongue turn to lead. Racing thoughts of you and only you.

Your words, your touch, your body—it’s enough to distract him, and nothing distracts him.

The entire day is trying, so when he falls to the bed and thinks of you again, his hands immediately falls towards his cock to rectify the issue.

He curses his weakness, his shirt sandwiched between his teeth, a feeble attempt to stifle his moans. He curses you in the same breath, you and your haunting figure. Faster and faster does his hand move against his hard cock, until his racing mind is filled with thoughts of you milking him for all he’s worth.

Before he’s awash with pleasure, trembling with satisfaction, the last thing he curses is himself for being too cowardly to admit his desire for you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding: He wants kids, he wants you to know he wants kids, and he wants you to know how good you would look with a belly full of them. Even if you’re not ready for kids or you’re taking birth control it’s not going to stop him from coming inside you, his idea of aftercare is running two fingers between your dripping cunt, stuffing you full of them and kissing your tears away.

“I know you’re sensitive dear, but it’s necessary, we need to make sure not to waste a single drop.”

Brat taming: If you’re a brat, enjoy yourself. He loves your attitude but when you push him too far he won’t hesitate to force you on your knees and remind you exactly who’s in charge in this relationship.

“It would have been easier for you to admit your need,” he groans, his heavy cock slapping against your open mouth, the taste of salt on your tongue. “But you had to make this difficult. Perhaps I’ve been too lenient with you.”

Marking: he’s more conservative about marks on himself but on you it’s free real estate. His favorite ones are the scratches you leave on his back.

You’ve fallen asleep minutes ago, but Bi-Han is still awake, stretching his back and reveling in the familiar ache that stings his skin. Your nails are sure to leave a mark, a trophy he’ll admire in the mirror when he gets dressed tomorrow.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His bedroom mainly. You’d have to really rile him up to convince him to fuck you in public, and even then it’s a risky affair. He enjoys when you moan for him, but times like this call for stealth, something you lack when you’re being fucked.

His solution for this is gagging you. His fingers get the job done, or he’ll muffle your lips with his own.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You pretending as if you don’t know the effect you have on him, when you brush against him in public, when you bend over just a bit too much to be innocent. The front is amusing, but what’s more amusing is how easily it crumbles apart when you’re put on your knees.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sharing you with anyone else, you’re his and his only. He also wouldn’t draw blood on you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Preference in receiving rather than giving, but when his thoughts get too loud and he needs a moment of peace and quiet the first place he’ll settle is between your legs.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Rough, possessive even—long, deep strokes that punch the air out of your lungs and make you see stars. He wants the world to know who you belong to, which is evident from the amount of hickeys and bruises left on your person after the fact. If you leave some on him he won’t mind, even if he is technically supposed to hide them it’s unsurprising to see the faintest little purple mark peeking out beneath his collar, a not-so-subtle reminder.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn’t like them, flat out. He knows a quickie is not enough to satisfy his appetite of you, he’d sooner wait until he’s certain neither of you have any prior obligations to devour you as he sees fit.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Surprisingly open to experimentation. It’s almost like training in his mind, a game of figuring out what makes you tick, what makes you see stars and cry out for him. Needless to say he’s very proficient at this game.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) 

God bless that Lin Kuei training; hours, although he is aware of your own limits and will gladly let you take a break should you need one. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I feel like you would have to own them yourself or you would have to introduce them to him. He might take offense to the idea of having anything that isn’t him bring you pleasure but you showed him the joys of using one and now he’s more open to the idea.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh he’s fucking evil, for such a stoic man you would never expect it but he gets off to seeing you wanting him, needing him. There’s always a plan brewing in that head of his.

Remember when I said you introduced him to the idea of toys in the bedroom? He may or may not force you to sit on a vibrator when you’re being bratty as a form of punishment while he leaves you tied to the bed. Only when he’s certain you’ve learned your lesson will he turn it off, but by then you’re a shaky, sweaty pile of your former self. Be careful what you wish for.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Groaner, deep growls in an even deeper tone, you can feel the rumble of him in his chest like an engine. He gets so breathy when he’s close too, it’s a sight to behold.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Secretly wants to be dominated, but will never say it out loud, you’ve got to figure that out yourself. When you finally do don’t expect him to make it easy for you either, he’ll fight you on every command and order until you either tie him down or gag him (He actually enjoys the thrill of the fight, he’s kind of a brat in that way.)

“I never thought the Grandmaster would enjoy being so exposed,” you giggle, admiring how the crimson rope compliments his skin, nearly the same shade as the blush that runs from his face down to his neck.

He tugs at his restraints, once, twice, before groaning at the feeling of your hands around his cock. It’s far too slow for his taste, he needs more and you know it, his head falling back when you squeeze his shaft and watch enamored as pre-cum dribbles down your fingers.

“Damn you,” he says, groaning when you respond with another firm grip. He takes a shuddering breath, cursing your name, and then begging for more in the same breath. All bark and no bite.

“You sure look like you’re enjoying yourself,” you muse, swiping your thumb against his leaking slit. “Look at that, making a mess of yourself.”

There’s a feral edge to the smile on his face, enjoying this little game. “These bonds cannot hold me for long. You know that, don’t you?”

Your eyebrow raises at that. “Course I do. But you’re not going to leave, are you Bi-Han?”

The air is filled with tension, and with his silence you have your answer, your hand moving faster as his hips desperately try to meet your rhythm.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) 

6.3 inches, circumsized, veiny at the base. My man is THICK, it’s heavy when you hold it in your hands and almost makes you wonder how he can walk straight, and his tip turns a pretty shade of rose when he’s aroused, reaching down to his shaft as if his cock is blushing. That thing should be registered as a weapon.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

If he could he’d have you pressed into the bed all day, but responsibilities come first. He can deceive you with how much self control he has but trust and believe he is almost always ready to go.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) 

Not quick at all, he revels in taking his time with you and refuses to sleep until he knows you’re taken care of. It’s a rule of his to watch you and make sure you’re safe before he succumbs himself, he’ll say it’s because of his life as an assassin but in reality he just enjoys seeing your blissful state.

Graphics by @cafekitsune and @saradika-graphics

[lookingformoondrop]

FINALLY SOMEONE WHO WRITES FOR THE COFFIN OF ANDY AND LEYLEY!!!!! THANK YOU <33333

Gonna ask some relationship hc w leyley!! It could be yandere if you like (I mean she is one already but-yk)

Ashley Graves X gn!reader - Relationship Headcannons

TW: Ashley is manipulative, she's a red flag but I'm colorblind, everyone has a foul mouth, mentions of cheating and kissing, Ashley is very emotionally dependent.

♥︎ Notes: I thought about making Ashley a yandere, but then I reflected on what Anon said and thought... they're right, LOL. I'm always happy to supply content for TCOAAL, and I really appreciate everyone who takes the time to request! I hope these meet your expectations. <3♥︎

Ashley Graves is impulsive, stubborn, cleverly stupid, and a pain in the ass.

If I had to describe dating Ashley I'd say it's like riding a roller coaster but never knowing when it'll drop.

When you first met her, you were blinded by her beauty (her tits) and decided to walk up to her for a number.

She was flustered that someone was interested in her, sure she's had people walk up to her before, but it was because they were always more interested in her brother than her.

But once she realized you were in it for her, she never let you go again.

It started with frequent house visits. She'd sleep over without asking, and just like a stray-cat that cuddles up to you, you couldn't say no.

She'd try to cook you for you! Every morning where she aserted herself into your day, you'd wake up to the wonderful smell of burning shit. When you went to your kitchen with a loving fire extinguisher in your hands, you'd see she was cooking eggs and some unidentified meat.

You'd walk up behind her and kiss the nape of her neck, never telling her you're only doing this because her hair smells like cherries and if you don't you're pretty sure you'll pass out from the smoke.

"Y/N, why is there a fire extinguisher in your hands?"

"Early Christmas."

"Liar."

Dates were fun, too! Even though you'd organize the actual dates like eating out, going to amusement parsl, carnivals, and the like, her dates would be along the lines of staying at home and cuddling. You might call it boring, but to Ashley, a perfect date would be where you're both left alone with only eachother to give company.

No one, and I mean NO ONE, would be able to see her precious Y/N except her.

And not that you minded anyways, you enjoyed spending time with Ashley, even if half that time was her being exhausting.

Speaking of which, exhausting, you ask? How is little ol' Ashley exhausting?

Be it a nice co-worker, a pleasant stranger, a funny waiter, or even that woman who works at the deli that gives you that cheap vegan processed ham with bacon bits, Ashley hated the fact you even acknowledged them.

It often became her favorite topic to annoy you with.

While cuddling on the couch (iykyk), Ashley began to look at you with intense eyes. You knew what these eyes meant. It was a warning sign that she was about to ask you something that could potentially piss you off. Of course, she didn't care about that part, all you needed to know was she was going to ask and you'd better be honest.

"N/M, do you love me?"

"Sure I do, you're my girlfriend after all."

Ashley wrapped her arms around your neck a little tighter, "So then," her face darkened, "would you ever cheat on me?"

You sighed, this line of questioning was becoming less and less of the 'would you love me if I was a worm' deal and more of the 'whose that bitch you were talking to' deal.

"No, Ashley, I wouldn't. Why would you feel the need to ask me that?"

Ashley raised her head from your chest and opened her mouth, her final statement ready to fire,

"So then why do you still look at other people if you would never cheat?" Her eyes narrowed on you.

You groaned and rubbed your temples, "Jesus Ashley, now I can't even have simple eye contact with people?"

She blew a breath of annoyance, "why would you even make eye contact?! I'm the only one you should be looking at, N/M!"

You went to push Ashley off of you, already sick of her shit.

"No! Do you even still love me?! All you do is go to work, go to school, hang out with your stupid friends, and ignore me!"

"I'm not doing this with you AGAIN, Ashley! Just because I know or talk to other people does not mean I'm screwing them! Jesus Ashley, you would think we'd be over this by now..."

Ashley pouted and blinked the tears in her eyes away, "...fine. leave me then, see if I care."

She sits up and goes to the opposite end of the couch.

"You're sitting on my feet, Ashley."

Ashley turned her head away and ignored you.

You hated it when she got her way, but you also couldn't stand to see her so upset. After all, she was only upset because she missed you.

Sighing with defeat you said softly, "I'm sorry I don't pay enough attention to you, Leyley. Life distracts me sometimes, but that doesn't mean I don't still love you. This weekend I'll cancel with my friends and we can go on a date. "

She hummed, "id rather we stay in and watch a movie."

"Which movie?" You coax your girlfriend for a smile,

"...Hypergore Splatterbrains 4," She looked at you and grinned.

"There's my pretty girl," you wrapped an arm around her waist, "alright, you happy now? Will you stop bitching about people in my life who I will NEVER cheat on you with?"

She brought a finger to her bottom lip, "Nah, maybe a kiss will convince me?"

She looked at you with a devious smirk, you sighed. "Cmere you," Ashley giggled and jumped on top of you, sharing a loving kiss.

Yeah, Ashley is exhausting.

But in a way, you're happy she's yours. You couldn't be happier, even if her cooking skills are shit, she's a tad bit possessive, and she leaves passive aggressive notes in your lunchbox when you go to work.

You love her either way.

"Hey N/M?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you love me?"

You sighed with content and wrapped your arms around her waist, "Yes Leyley, I love you. Do you love me?"

Ashley laid her head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat,

"I love you, N/M~"

Thank you for the ask!<3

[adcgios]

minatozaki   sana .     she / her .     cis   woman .      ›      spotted   at   the   met   steps   ,   mai   morisaki   ,   most   likely   listening   to   don't   wanna   be   your   girl   by   wet   with   their   airpods   pro   .   the   twenty   seven   year   old   gained   quite   a   reputation   ,   known   to   be   -shallow yet +magnetic to anyone   who   knows   them   .   you'll   easily   spot   them   when   you   hear   about   heartbreakingly   delicate   flowers   embroidered   on   smooth   velvet   ,   the   quiet   moments   in   the   early   morning   lit   by   a   lazily   rising   sun   ,   the   heart-quickening   dips   and   chest   expanding   swells   in   a   symphony   &   empty   perfume   bottles   meticulously   aligned   on   a   shelf   ,   followed   by   parfums   de   marly   delina   exclusif   .   latest   nepoupdates   article   talks   about   how   her   first   world   tour   was   suddenly   cancelled   only   a   few   shows   in  —   could   it   have   something   to   do   with   the   photos   taken   of   her   arriving   at   well   known   rehab   facility   ?   ,   but   i   guess   any   reputation   is   good   reputation   .

* * triggers : depression , death , drug abuse

( ⌗ 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒔 )

— ❛ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘴. ❜

full name :  mai morisaki  birthday :  september 28  age :  twenty7  gender : cis woman   pronouns : she / her   orientations :  bisexual & biromantic

— ❛ 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦. ❜

faceclaim :  minatozaki sana  hair :  currently chocolate brown  eyes :  dark brown  height :  5 ' 5 "  piercings :  sana canon + nipples 🤭  tattoos : tba

— ❛ 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺. ❜

positive traits :  magnetic , kind - hearted , ambitious , loyal , honest  negative traits :  naive , easily - overwhelmed , impressionable , gullible  mbti :  isfj  big three :  libra sun , taurus moon , aries rising  likes :  bows , anything strawberry flavored or heart shaped , classical music , fluffy blankets , all dogs on planet earth  dislikes :  liars , waking up early , the papparazzi , dark chocolate

( ⌗ 𝒊𝒏 𝒅𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒉 )

— ❛ 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥. ❜

♡  when people say that kids end up like their parents, mai is the prime example, to a degree. her dad is a "rockstar" ( giving very much tom delonge ), lead singer and guitarist while her mom was a well-known principal ballerina for the new york city ballet. it was no surprise that she picked up their hobbies as a child, going on tour with her dad and participating in ballet classes whenever close to home — ballet and music become her first and second loves early in life ♡  her mom died when she was sixteen, leaving behind two people whose lives completely turned inside out overnight. neither of them knew how to cope, so they both turned to things that weren't necessarily the most healthy for them. she turned her focus to dance, practicing more and being completely invested in her ballet career for the next six years. it was three weeks before her audition for the nyc ballet that the long hours or rehearsal and unhealthy focus had the effect she'd been warned against for so long — the smallest injury derailing her entire life yet again, effectively ending her professional ballet career. she was aimless for months, feeling like she was once again floating listlessly through life. it took dozens of therapy sessions and one of her friends with a recording studio to bring her back to life again. when the song went viral online, it reinvigorated her love for music she'd nearly forgotten ♡  while she had finally settled, her dad had done the opposite, his slow spiral taking a nosedive when he nearly overdosed in the middle of one of her first concerts. being so dependent on each other for so long, it didn't take even a moment's consideration before she was flying back home to take care of him, checking him into rehab as quickly as she could and making sure he was comfortable and cared for. it was this incident that the papparazzi caught on camera, branding her as a troubled star with no regard for her fans. she was initially angry about the story, but if it kept her dad's reputation safe, then she was willing to take the fall for him (she's just a girl who loves her dad and i think thats so beautiful .. and sad ) ♡  she's been making music for the past handful of years (im adjusting sabrina's release timeline because i can), her most successful being her most recent album titled emails i can't send, and while the titular track is completely fictional, she's gone on record to say that the other songs are almost all inspired by people in her life <3 oh and she Definitely wears the little outfits sabrina wears oh my god theyre so dreamy imagine them on sana im gonna pass out fr ♡  when it comes to friendships, mai gets attached very easily, despite knowing that its definitely a bad idea. she's loyal to a fault (as seen in her protection of her dad), and will be the first to take a secret to the grave. she holds on to people as tightly as she can because she lives in a constant state of fear that they'll be gone if she doesn't 😀 all she wants is for her friends to be happy and will go to extreme lengths to make sure of it — aka she's not afraid of getting into a confrontation if its in defense of someone she cares about, even if who she's fighting is Also someone she cares about ♡  romance-wise, she is FULLY a hopeless romantic, but i hate to admit it .. my girl has insane imposter syndrome 😭🤚 will constantly ask if her partner still likes her, 'would you love me if i was a worm' type beat. isn't paranoid enough to go through someone's phone, but is silently always second-guessing every conversation and if she said something that gave them an ick or a reason to want to leave aha we love an anxious girlie! is also VERY affectionate, loves pda even though she'll pretend like she doesnt, is extremely touch starved so will 100% try to be touching her partner at all times (think holding hands, playing with fingers, back hugs in the kitchen, etc) haha loves with her whole heart every time i feel bad for her actually

— ❛ 𝘩𝘤 𝘥𝘶𝘮𝘱. ❜

♡ sleeps with a stuffed cow she named moo moo when she was 5, carries a handful of lollipop in her bag at all times just in case (for emergencies!), hiccups when she cries, cries when she's drunk, cries when she's sober, cries a lot actually, has personalized photos and ringtones for everyone in her contact list, cant ride a bike but will happily sit on the handlebars, watches baking tiktoks religiously but burns everything she tries to make, turned down hosting snl because she knew she wouldnt be able to differentiate people laughing at her and people laughing with her, has a tote bag collection — buys them whenever she sees a cute one, can get so engrossed in songwriting and recording that she loses track of time (common), eats cough drops like candy even when she's not sick, loves smelling like dessert (vanilla, fruity scents, etc) & has a king charles spaniel puppy named chiffon (named after the sanrio character)

— ❛ 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. ❜

♡  opposite she looks nothing like me, so why do you look so happy? now i think i get the cause of it; you were holding out to find the opposite

exes that ended on bad terms due to your muse finding someone different, someone who wasn't like mai at all. relationship ended abruptly with little communication between the two

♡  bad for business he's good for my heart but he's bad for business, tears me apart when he grants my wishes. all of my friends think i've gone crazy, but they don't know me like my baby

friendship to flirtationship to relationship — the timeline could either be in the past or the future, but this is someone who mai thinks very highly of both as a person and as a partner ( ignore pronouns in lyrics, gender of muse doesn't matter )

♡ i'll also be filling mai's wanted tag, but i figured i'd get the 2 songs i'm obsessed with up there! i'm of course also interested in the usual, like childhood best friends, enemies, frienemies, fwb (she's bad at those tbh), industry friends, etc

[asahicore]

get to know me game !!!

omg i love things like these cz any opportunity to talk about myself is a good opportunity !! thx for the tag @ozymandia-s i was reading thru ur answers like it was the morning paper, i'll tag @bbujiikseu and @ethereal-engene if u guys wanna do it <33

birthday: dec 13

favourite colour: purple-ish like lavender 

do you have pets? yaaaaah i have a white cat who's evil but also really cute and a dog named elbow

how tall are you? 160-2 cm i'm not sure

how many pairs of shoes do you own? a bunch but i mostly wear my platform docs, my beige platform converse, my black regular super old and beat-up converse or my knee-high brown boots that i got at a thrift shop for such a good price

favourite song: this is like the most impossible question everrrr but invu by taeyeon was my most listened to song in 2022 and i still levitate whenever i listen to it

favourite movie: twilighttt the girls who get it get it but i have lots of movies i love

who would be your ideal partner? my 2 most important things r someone who makes me laugh but also finds me funny and someone with good communication. i dont really care about stuff like sharing hobbies or styles or whatever but as long as we can have a good time doing whatever i'm in love (my ex...)

do you want children?  yessss not now for sure but in a few years like 2 or 3 i think

have you gotten in trouble with the law? i dont think so..?

what colour socks are you wearing? rn they're black

favourite type of music: kpop... 97 of my 101 most listened to songs were girl group kpop lmaooo but just pop in general

how many pillows do you sleep with? 2 !!!

what position do you sleep in? i try to sleep on my back but being on my tummy with one leg up is so much comfier

what don’t you like when you’re sleeping: people who snore like i'm not a particularly light sleeper but it wakes me up immediately and keeps me from falling asleep

what do you have for breakfast: coffee most of the time but earl grey sometimes, i dont usually eat breakfast but if i'm feeling hungry i'll have a fruit or something. i'll also have a pastry at the uni café if i really cant wait until lunch to eat lmaoo

have you ever tried archery? i dont think i have but it looks cool

favourite fruit: lately i've been obsessed w physallis but that shit is expensiveee. otherwise i'd say mango and cherries

are you a good liar? nooo u can see it right away if i'm lying i get so tense and if i'm lying just to take the piss out of someone then i can only keep it for like 10 seconds cause 1 i start laughing and 2 i feel bad for making someone believe something untrue lmaoo

what’s your personality type? enfp i think?

innie or outie? (it really depends on my mood but i'm usually an outie i think, i just need a day in the week to really relax on my own) i’ve been informed this is about the belly button… well it’s innie then… why do u wanna know that about me tho

left handed or right handed? right handed. left handed ppl freak me out...

favourite food: it is so impossible to choose a fav meal but i'll say tiramisu cz its my fav dessert

favourite foreign food: sushi ig

am i clean or messy? i'd say clean

most used phrase:  i have no idea probably whatever stupid phrase i've coined as mine for the week

how long does it take for you to get ready: not too long cause in the morning i basically just make my bed, wash my face, brush my teeth, get dressed and do my makeup.. but if i decide to have coffee at home or to read before leaving then it can take a while

do you talk to yourself? all the damn time bro i was actually tripping over the fact that you can hear a voice in your head without actually speaking just the other day i think its so weird but im thankful for my inner monologue.. shes a queen

do you sing to yourself? if theres music i'll sing along but i dont usually just sing out loud randomly

are you a good singer?  no lmaooooo but i love singing badly and my friends and i go to karaoke every week which is super fun

biggest fear? this is weird but my legs being wobbly like not havign control over them, so like when you're on those inflatable games or when the ground is slippery.. hate that

are you a gossip? yes lmaooo but only when theres reason to be

do you like long or short hair? ive been growing out my hair and its slayinngggggg but on other ppl idc

favourite school subject: i think french (not as a second language but as a french person studying french at a french school lmao) and english lit

extrovert or introvert: extrovert, like im sociable but also if you're a strange man dont talk to me

what makes you nervous: university deadlines also the amount of books in the world i'll never be able to read </3

who was your first real crush? i think when in like 4th grade i had a crush on this guy named matt, but ive had plennnttyyyy of crushes since then

how many piercings? eight and they're all on my ears !

how many tattoos? 0 but im debating getting one

how fast can you run? not fast lmaoo

what colour is your hair? dark brown

what colour are your eyes? dark brown

what makes you angry: misogyny <3 i had to watch this video of a debate between pro-choicers and pro-lifers.. i was gonna explode listening to the pro-lifers' arguments they're so fucking stupid man

do you like your name? its very unoriginal lol but i dont mind it, also my middle name is my grandma's which is genevieve and i think it slays

do you want a boy or a girl as a child? one of both tbh

what are your strengths? hmmm i think i'm fairly reasonable? like when i have an outburst (and i have a lot of those) after some time i'm able to calm myself down and reason with myself so usually im able to stay somewhat level-headed lol i also don't wallow, i get back on my feet pretty quickly and my friends have told me i'm generous :)

what are your weaknesses? this might sound like the opposite of what i just said lmaoo but i overthink too damn much and i jsut cry all the time like everything pains me but then at the same time im able to get out of that mindset quickly.. so idk bruh

what is the colour of your bedspread? i have like 3 houses but the one i currently am at is my uni dorm and the bedspreads are either white and grey or green/blue/pink and they're both floral patterns

colour of your room: at my moms and here they're white but at my dads they're a light greyish brown

this was fun and took me forever lmaooo good way of procrastinating tbh

[forjongseong]

get to know me

tagged by @end-hyphen i am honestly scared how personal this is HAHAHAH

tagging my active moots @yoursjaeyun @rosesbxrry @dearsugarrush @en-ternity and if you see this and you want to join in, feel free to do so!

let's go

birthday: october 13th (on a wednesday tho)

favourite colour: it's different depending when you ask and what for, but now i am really into greens and blues

do you have pets?: i have 8 domestic cats

how tall are you?: 161cm

how many pairs of shoes do you own?: let me list down the ones i remember: i have two pairs of boots, one pair of flats, a pair of block heeled mules, a pair of rubber sandals, a pair of sneakers, a pair of skechers... i think those are the essentials

favourite song: Shutter by Yuuri

favourite movie: if it's romcom, Down with Love. if it's a musical, The Greatest Showman.

who would be your ideal partner?: JAY. let me explain: a man who is thoughtful, mature, respectful, knowledgable, sociable, talented, and all the other good things. good-looking is a bonus. i just want to meet an equal.

do you want children?: at the time being, no. i have no reason to want any kids.

have you gotten in trouble with the law?: never

what colour socks are you wearing?: earlier i was wearing baby blue

favourite type of music: i am not that picky but i really like Adult Standards! i am also into Latin pop and Afrobeats

how many pillows do you sleep with?: three

what position do you sleep in?: i've heard it's bad for you to sleep on your left side since that's where your heart is so i always try to sleep on my right side

what don’t you like when you’re sleeping: my skin gets dry and sometimes i scratch myself in my sleep when i feel itchy and in the morning i wake up with marks or scars

what do you have for breakfast: sometimes granola or bread but i normally skip breakfast

have you ever tried archery?: no but I WOULD LOVE TO although i bet my aim is shit since my eyesight is bad

favourite fruit: don't have one, maybe bananas and mangoes?

are you a good liar?: i am when i need to be

what’s your personality type?: it changes the whole time, i am an ambivert and i am mostly an N and P, the I/E and T/F keeps changing

innie or outie?: innie i just can't be bothered to go out and back home worrying how to get to one place... i do like dressing up tho

left handed or right handed?: right handed

favourite food: anything that has shrimps or prawns in it

favourite foreign food: foreign? like italian? or chinese? those two are my fave cuisines

am i clean or messy?: by default i am clean but i don't mind mess

most used phrase: for real (in Indonesian)

how long does it take for you to get ready: if i need to go i can do my minimal makeup within 10 minutes

do you talk to yourself?: no, but a lot of thoughts

do you sing to yourself?: YES thanks to Spotify's lyrics feature

are you a good singer?: i wish

biggest fear?: death of a family member

are you a gossip?: no but i'd love to listen

do you like long or short hair?:short, long hair is too high maintenance

favourite school subject: none

extrovert or introvert: ambivert

what makes you nervous: asking a question in class, job interviews

who was your first real crush?: what do you mean REAL i don't remember?? someone in kindergarten probably

how many piercings?: two but they're all closed up now, i had gold earrings when i was little and ripped one off in my sleep, ended up with an infection. never wore earrings since.

how many tattoos?: none they are haraam :(

how fast can you run?: not fast at all i would definitely avoid running

what colour is your hair?: black

what colour are your eyes?: black

what makes you angry: humans who have no compassion towards animals

do you like your name?: it's not bad

do you want a boy or a girl as a child?: i don't want kids but if i really have to have one i'd prefer a boy

what are your strengths?: only giving fucks to things i care about

what are your weaknesses?: only giving fucks to things i care about

what is the colour of your bedspread?: purple with floral prints

colour of your room: white, i feel like everyone's room is white?

HAVE FUN, GO MAD!!!

[reversedpsync]

𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍  001 : THE OUTSIDE .

NAME :  Kuruto Ryuki EYE  COLOUR : grey (right, natural), red (left, prosthetic AI-Ball) HAIR  STYLE   /   COLOUR : very messy short-ish hair, doesn’t brush it often. just kinda runs his hands through it in the morning after showering kinda guy. black hair. HEIGHT : 5′7″-ish CLOTHING  STYLE : clean yet scruffy. Tends to wear sweaters and jackets and long-sleeved things, slacks or black pants, likes wearing layers. looks well put-together but also doesn’t do all the buttons up on his dress shirt and his tie is a lil loose. but also coordinates his socks to his sweater so like... man. PHYSICAL  FEATURE : heterochromia thanks to prosthetic eye.

𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍  002 : THE INSIDE .

FEARS :  losing people, failure, demotion, being alone, unreality, car accidents, plane accidents, being hated, disappointing others

𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍  003 : THOUGHTS .

FIRST  THOUGHTS  WAKING  UP :  probably mild confusion as to when he fell asleep. that or some general ‘welp back on the grind lets get to it’ vibe of overworking himself again WHAT  THEY  THINK  ABOUT  MOST :  justice, his job, Tama and his coworkers, his brother WHAT  THEY  THINK  ABOUT  BEFORE  BED :  some variation on stubbornly insisting to himself he’s not tired. also his brother probably comes on his mind often. WHAT  THEY  THINK  THEIR  BEST  QUALITY  IS :  his motivation

𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍  004 : WHAT’S BETTER ?

SINGLE  OR  GROUP  DATES :  single   TO  BE  LOVED  OR  RESPECTED : loved BEAUTY  OR  BRAINS :  brains (but he is not immune to physical charms,) DOGS  OR  CATS :  cats

𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍  005 :     DO THEY …

LIE : constantly. if you hear him say “I’m fine” he’s probably lying. he’s a shitty liar though, at least. BELIEVE  IN  THEMSELVES :  depends on the day and the circumstance. he believes in his ability as an ABIS investigator... mostly.  BELIEVE  IN  LOVE :  I feel like he does for other people but not really himself. honestly he’d need a Lot of healing before a relationship really became an option anyways. Some part of him is paranoid that anyone he loves will always end up hurt or dead, and.... oof, WANT  SOMEONE :  [opens up his cringe compilation] lol (he's got a lil crush lmao but he knows it’d never actually work)

𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍  006 :    HAVE THEY EVER …

BEEN  ON  STAGE :  no   DONE  DRUGS :  no CHANGED  WHO  THEY  WERE  TO  FIT  IN :  no

𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍  007 : FAVOURITES .

FAVOURITE  COLOUR :  red FAVOURITE  ANIMAL :   cats FAVOURITE  BOOK :  childhood copy of Hanpanman FAVOURITE  GAME :  he doesn’t really play games but i want to believe he’d sink thousands of hours into knockoff stardew valley if introduced to it

𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍  008 : AGE .

DAY  THEIR  NEXT  BIRTHDAY  WILL  BE :  October 18th! HOW  OLD  WILL  THEY  BE :  doesn’t age in isola, but he’d be 24

𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍  009 : FINISH THE SENTENCE .

I  LOVE :  [...] I  FEEL :   fine. I HIDE :  when I struggle. I  MISS :  Tama, my brother, my parents... I  WISH :  Tama was here.

[lovemesomesurveys]

Do you love anyone who's name starts with A? Yeah. When is the last time someone of the opposite sex gave you a hug? A few weeks ago. Who is the last person that made you smile? My mom. Do you lose interest in someone easily? No, quite the opposite. Who was the last person you flirted with? Ty. That was 6 years ago now, wow.

Are you dating the last person you kissed? No. We don’t even talk anymore. Has anyone ever asked you if you were bi polar? Yes. When is the last time you cried? Early this morning. Yesterday/last night was really rough. How many people have you given your heart to? Two in the romantic sense. Who is the last person that disappointed you? Myself. Continuously. What's one thing in your life that you wish you could change? My health. Do you fall in love easily? Not in love, but I did tend to fall fast and hard.  Do you still talk to the person you fell the hardest for? No. Have you ever liked someone you didn't expect to? Yes. And he ended up being someone I could actually see something long-term and serious with.  Are you afraid others will judge you from reading some of your answers? With some things. Obviously I’m pretty open on here, though.  Are you trying to avoid liking/loving somebody at the moment? No. Is there someone that you miss right now? I miss my mom. She hasn’t been able to come visit cause she got sick. My dad and brother, too. My mom was coming everyday though prior to that, so it sucks. And a lot has happened during that time that I wish she would have been here for. Have you ever given your ALL to someone who walked away? Yes. Do you and your last ex hate eachother? No.  Has a friendship ended recently that you wish had not? My friendships ended years ago. How many best friends have you had through out you life? A few. Who's the last person that slept over your house? My aunt. Have you ever regretted kissing someone? No. Do you think you have made a difference in anyone's life? I don’t feel like I have. Has anyone ever made a difference in yours? Absolutely. Is someone on your mind right now? Yes, because this survey got me thinking. Are you too forgiving? I think so. Do you want someone you can't have? I don’t want anyone right now. Is your last ex still someone you care about? I care, but I don’t have romantic feelings for him anymore. That ended several years ago. How do you feel about your life right now? Not great to say the very least. I’m really going through it... Has someone put their arm around you in the past five days? No. What'​​​s one thing ​you do when you're mad? Cry. Do you tend to fall for players? I fell for guys who didn’t want to be with me. Do you know anyone who has been arrested? Yes. Did the last person you kiss have tattoos? Nope. Are you currently sad about anything? A lot of things. Sad is apart of my personality. Do you pray to God often? Not often enough. How would you feel if your last ex fell in love with someone else? Like I said, we ended things several years ago and have long since moved on. I’m sure he’s dated since then and that’s great for him. I truly hope he’s happy and doing well. Who was the last person who left your life and hurt you? Ty. Do you know anyone who died of breast cancer? No. How long does it take you to get over someone? It takes me awhile. Are your parents strict? No.  What are you afraid of? Losing my loved ones, never getting better, death... Do people often disappoint you? Just me it seems. Did you wake up in a good mood this morning? I never do, especially not in the hospital. Are you a good liar? No. Do you have any mental disorders? I do. Which one of your friends is the funniest? -- Would you ever forgive your boyfriend/girlfriend for cheating on you? It would really depend on some things and one of those situations I’d have to be in to know what I’d really do. Hopefully that never happens. Are you depressed right now? Yes, I have depression. What's the worst thing about your personality? Oh, where to begin... Is there at least one ex boyfriend/girlfriend you can trust? I don’t talk to either one anymore. Did you like anyone last summer? No. I haven’t been interested in someone in awhile, like we’re talking 6 years. Have you ever liked someone that all your friends hated? They definitely had some opinions about him. Is there anyone that your texting right now? I just replied back to my brother. Who was the last person that made you upset/angry? More like my situation has made me upset and angry and yesterday was just especially rough. It was like one thing after another. Do you honestly like the person you are? No. Have you ever been arrested? No. Who's your best friend right now? My mom. Have your parents ever said they were disappointed in you? Once, and it was when I got caught lying about taking my medicine when I was 12. My mom had found my hidden stash. They had to watch me and make sure I took it for awhile until they trusted me again. Is there a key to your heart? It’s pretty locked up now cause I’ve been hurt. I took a risk twice and was rejected and heartbroken both times. Has anyone ever stabbed you in the back? Yes. Have you ever been called a slut? Just jokingly. What's the most important thing in a relationship? Trust and communication. Would you date someone 8 years older than you? *shrug* Maybe. Have you ever broken someone's heart? Yes. :/ Have you ever kissed someone that was the same sex as you? No. What's worrying you right now? My health. Do you believe in God? I do. Does it bother you if someone doesn't like you? Meh. Do you miss any of your old friends? Yes. Have you ever been used before? Yes. :/ Where is the person you gave your heart to for the first time? I don’t know. Do you believe that there's good in everybody? Not everybody. Are you the same person as you were at the beginning of the year? So much has changed from then and now that’s for sure. I definitely never imagined I’d wind up here. Is there someone you will never forget? Absolutely. A lot of people. Has anyone ever written a song for you? No. Does it annoy you when people play dumb? Yes! It’s, well, dumb. I don’t understand. If you married the last person you texted, what would your last name be? Uh, no, he’s my brother... Are you confused about anything? Yes. Do you think anyone has feelings for you? Nope. Are you a jealous person? I haven’t felt jealous in a long time. I do admittedly feel envy, though. :/ Do you think you could you handle being in the military? No. Would you ever quit a bad habit for someone? Possibly.  When was the last time you gave your number to someone? I don’t remember. Have you thought about an ex today? Only cause you’ve brought him up a lot. Who was the last person to compliment you? One of my nurses. Are you a social butterfly or a loner? Definitely a loner.  Has anyone said they love you in the last week? Yes. Do you ever think about stuff and start crying? Yes. I feel like I’m always crying. Are you keeping a big secret right now? No. Have you ever walked on the beach at night? I’ve been to the beach at night and just sat there watching the ocean.  When was the last time you felt alone? Now. Do you want to be famous someday? Nooo thank you. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? I tend to give out many chances. Are you good at hiding your feelings? Not anymore. I used to be. Are there currently any stressful situations in your life? There’s a lot. Who is the last person that said you were sexy? Ha, no one is calling me that. Did you kiss anyone tonight? No. Who was the last person you cried in front of? My nurse. At what age would you most like to get married? I don’t plan on getting married. How often do you type ''<3'? Very, very rarely. What if your ex found out you fell in love with another person? He wouldn’t care. Do you trust all your friends? -- Do you believe your latest ex thinks about you? Sigh. Enough about the ex. Would you fall apart if that last person you kissed walked out of your life? We haven’t been apart of each other’s lives for several years. Do you laugh a lot? Not anymore. :/ Anyone say they want to be with you forever? Something like that. Forever was pretty short. Could you ever be friends again with someone that broke your heart? I tried. Didn’t last long. Do you want your ex to be happy, even if it means not being with you? Yes. I don’t have any ill will towards them. Is there a member of the opposite sex on your mind? You keep bring them up... Do you know anyone who would just drop everything to come see you? Yes. I wouldn’t want or expect anyone to, but I know my family would. When's the last time you were surprised? I don’t know. So much has happened it’s hard to be surprised anymore. If an ex said they hated you, what would you say? Not sure what I did to warrant such strong feelings, but okay. I got enough shit to focus on. When was the last time you were drunk? Back in 2013. Ever taken a picture kissing someone? Yes. Are you giving up on anyone/ anything? It’s tempting at times, but I can’t. Is there anyone you wouldn't mind punching at the moment? No. Could you ever be friends with the person who hurt you most in life? I tried and like I said, it didn’t work. Do you have someone of the opposite sex you can tell everything to? No. What's something new you recently learned about yourself? I took so much for granted. If you see a girl with big boobs, do you automatically think shes a slut? ...No? 

Why did you last cry? Frustrations and being depressed about my situation.  Would you want to know the date of your death? No. Have you ever suspected anyone of cheating on you? No. Would you prefer a baby girl or boy? I don’t want kids.  Are you feeling guilty about anything right now? Yes, a few things. Are you anyone's first love? I think I was my first boyfriend’s. Would you care if your best friend cheated on their boyfriend/girlfriend? Yes. My best friend is my mom, who is with my dad. Whats the last thing you lied about? I don’t recall.

How old were you when you had your first relationship? 16. What was on your mind mostly today? Same shit as always. Kind of hard not to think about my health while in the hospital. Are you in love with anyone at the moment? No. Have you ever been heartbroken? Yes, in the romantic sense and in other ways. Who is the last person you texted? My Nana. Who do you trust with your life? My mom. Are you very family oriented? I am. Are you afraid of falling in love? Yes. The other times didn’t work out for me. Isn't it annoying when an ex doesn't leave you alone? Yes, very. My first ex was like that. Who's the last person you told I love you to? My Nana. Do you believe that it's best to have a friendship first and then love? I do like that. Have you ever sent a text to the wrong person? Yeah. Good thing I wasn’t talking crap, haha. Are you happy with your life right now? No.

[miekasa]

do you have any cute (or h-word) bf headcanons for the Aot boys mie?

Of course I do, I have an ever-expanding list of headcanons for all of them, from how they react to you sitting in the backseat when they pick you up, down to whether or not they would rip your bandages off after your get a shot (spoiler: Eren, Porco, and Levi fucking would)

EREN sfw

He really likes holding hands, though it’s more of a calming habit for him. Holding hands keeps him grounded, and acts as an anchor for his anxiety; so he’ll grab and/or fidget with yours periodically.

He’ll steal your skincare if he’s over at your place, but honestly he just starts… copying it lmfao. Like, he’ll take notice of your face wash when he’s over he’s like “Oh, this is nice” and then a week later, he buys a bottle for himself. Then he buys your toner, and your moisturizer, and you stay over at his place and gotta do a double take bc he’s got damn near the same of everything at this point.

He doesn’t know if he believes that classical music actually helps him to concentrate, but he does know that he’s grown to like it, so it’s become his studying music of choice. He’s got favorite composers and everything.

He’d be upset if you didn’t steal his hoodies. That’s what they’re there for. He’ll make you steal them if he has to.

He hates standing in line. For anything. If he likes a restaurant that gets super busy at lunch, he’ll order ahead for pickup (and he feels special skipping the line). At amusement parks, he pays for the fast passes. If it’s shopping, then he’d rather just do it online.

On that note, he sucks at returning things that don’t fit/he doesn’t like when he shops online, so he honestly just keeps them, or gives them to his friends—it’s much easier than going through the hassle of printing a return label, according to him.

nsfw

He likes the idea of recording you guys during sex, but he’s honestly a little too nervous to do it—nervous about being recorded himself, and about it potentially getting out somewhere.

Likes it when you look him in the eyes when you cum. In fact, he somewhat demands it.

Similarly, he’s always watching you during sex. Mostly your face, for indications of how he’s making you feel and when you’re close to your orgasm (which is why he’s got a thing for you looking at him).

He used to hate masturbating, until he tried masturbating to the idea of you, and now he fucking loves that. He takes his time with it too—if he’s gonna jack off, he’s gonna make a moment of it: sit on his bed, turn the lights off, make sure he’s all alone and can go for as long as he wants.

Threesomes are fine with him, and he doesn’t even have to be the sole one in charge, depending on who’s joining you.

ARMIN sfw

He air-dries the majority of his clothes because he doesn’t want his sweaters and knitwear to shrink. Also, he likes the smell of his fabric softener permeating the room while the clothes dry.

On a similar note, he’s got sensitive skin—not to the point where a shirt less than 75% cotton irritates him; but he is conscious of fabrics and products he uses. Because of this, he takes extra care with his laundry, his pillowcases and bedsheets are satin as are the majority of his pajama shirts, and he never ever walks around without house slippers or he’ll irritate the bottom of his feet.

He’s scared of bugs, but he doesn’t like to kill them either. Honestly, he just kinda hopes spiders and stuff will crawl away without him intervening 😭😭

He likes board games, and has a thing for The Game of Life. He cannot play chess, even though most people would guess that he could, and he’s begun to practice by playing online versions against computers to learn.

He knows everyone’s gossip because everyone comes to him to gossip. And if he’s the therapist friend, then you’re the person who receives the summary of all the tea from him at the end of the week. And man can this boy throw a bitch fest when he’s in the right mood.

nsfw

He’s got a bit of an oral fixation, so he really likes having your mouth occupied; with his fingers, with your panties, with his dick—he’s not really picky.

Likes sex with the lights on. Claims it’s because he wants to “see all of you” (it’s really because he’s nervous he’ll fuck something up if he can’t see properly 😭😭)

He really likes making out. Like, a lot. Though it’s not something that happens often—so he builds up a lot of frustrating thinking about it, and it all comes crashing down, and ends up with you guys damn near dry humping each other on the couch for two hours.

That’s something that applies to him generally, too—he tends to let himself get very frustrated and worked up, whether he means to or not. He also thinks about sex quite frequently, and it only fuels his frustration; so when he snaps, he snaps hard.

He’d let you choke him back if you asked. Just ask nicely.

JEAN sfw

Loves studying in cafés and adores when you study with him; peeps up at you periodically when you sit across from him. He always pays for your drink, but sometimes you guys share, and he likes making a game out of reaching for the cup at the same time as you.

He’s very chivalrous, but he hates when you call him out for it, or make any kind of deal of it. He knows it’s chivalry, but he also knows it’s the bare minimum, plus he’s easily embarrassed—especially in public.

Loves having his hair played with, absolutely adores it. If you’re just holding his face, or resting your hand on his cheek, he’ll move himself further into your touch to maneuver your palm closer to his hair.

He really really really likes back hugs—giving and receiving them. If he’s standing behind you, he’ll most likely reach for a hug at some point (sometimes he won’t let go and you’ve gotta waddle with him on you). His ears get red when you give him a back hug but he always uses a hand to rest over your arms to tell you that he doesn’t want you to let go.

He can play the piano, but he doesn’t tell a soul about it. The only reason you found out it through his mom. He’s got stage fright, so he gave up on performing, but he’s really talented, and can almost play any song by ear.

nsfw

He loves the feeling of your hands on him, particularly if you’ve got long nails. Please scrape your nails against his back, or even just dig them into his biceps while he’s fucking you, it’ll drive him insane.

Along with liking having his hair played with, he adores having it pulled on—the attention and desperation in your actions goes straight to his ego and his dick.

One of his biggest fantasies is getting a lap dance from you. He’d never ever fucking say it out loud or dream of asking for it, but the idea of you stripping in front of him, down to lingerie he’d picked out for you, and teasing him until he can’t take it anymore and jumps you is something he thinks about… far more often than he should.

If you’re wearing his clothes (especially one of his t-shirts to bed, or around his apartment), he’s gonna fuck you in it. Jean has a lot of self control, but that’s one thing that’ll make him snap in an instant. And if you wear his shirt or hoodie out, he’s fucking you when you get home, it’s as simple as that.

CONNIE sfw

He studies with children’s shows playing the background. He doesn’t remember how he discovered that his method works for him, all he knows is that something about Paw Patrol makes for excellent background noise for writing his research papers.

He’s quite touchy with PDA, but if you guys are in a crowd then forget about it—because Connie might forget about you. He’s definitely left you at the grocery store before.

He eats cereal for breakfast every morning, and he’s kind of got a collection of them in his kitchen. He claims there are upscale cereals that he doesn’t just let anybody eat or even touch; so, if he offers you a midnight snack consisting of a bowl of his favorite (and very rare) cereal, then be honored.

He almost always pays with cash, but he hates change. If he gets back coins, he either tells the cashier to keep them, puts them in a tip jar if there’s one in sight, or just pours them into your coat pocket. He understands that its money, but he’ll be damned if he’s just got a sack full of nickels clanging around in his bag.

nsfw

He claims he doesn’t have a thing for exhibitionism, but with the way he’s down to fuck damn near anywhere, he might be a bold faced liar. Changing rooms, music festivals, airport bathrooms, the little corner of the multilevel parking lot that he’s oh-so-certain is in the blindspot of the security cameras... there are so few things off-limits with him.

Car sex on his bucket list… just not in his car lmfao (because trust and believe that’s something that already happens pretty regularly). Maybe his real kink is vandalism and destruction of property.

He is not above begging you to sit on his face. He will get on his knees and pant like a fucking dog for you to do it, he’s so serious. He’ll do it laying down, he’ll do it with you standing up/against a wall, he’ll do it on the couch. Break his neck please he’s fucking asking for it.

He doesn’t mind sharing and he definitely doesn’t mind watching. Honestly, he’d egg you on to kiss someone else at a party, or go as far as to seduce you into seducing someone else just so he can watch it go down.

PORCO sfw

He sends you iMessage games but only the ones he’s good at because he doesn’t like to lose. But also, if he is losing, he doesn’t want you to be supportive about it and tell him “it’s okay uwu” lmfao he wants to either cream you, or have you kick his ass; competition is the name of the game, don’t be soft on him.

He’s a morning person, and he likes going on runs or even just early-morning walks when the weather is nice. He will wake you up occasionally to join him—and if you’re a homebody, you will be joining him. He won’t be responsible for watching you decompose on the couch.

Very picky about his pizza. It’s not a calorie or grease or health thing—he just really fucking likes pizza, and he won’t excuse a bad slice.

Always pulls you closer to him in a crowd or when a group of people are walking by. He doesn’t have to, but he likes to. Tease him about it and he’ll push you right back tho, probably into a shrub if there’s one near by.

nsfw

He’s such a “No, no—answer the call” kind of mf; a sadist, if you will. He lives for torturing and embarrassing you, and that applies to sex, too.

Loves the way his hands look on you, particularly splaying his hand over your stomach when he’s fucking you. Likes the heat of your body against his, when he positions himself just right to feel the outline of his dick against you, and squeezing the sides of your tummy when he gets lost in it.

Loves blowjobs, and loves to cum on you or over your face. His favorite thing tho is pulling away just before he’s about to orgasm, and jacking himself off with your tongue sticking out, ready to swallow.

Okay with threesomes, too; but he wouldn’t like to do much to or with the third person. It’s okay if they touch you—maybe even fuck you, depending on who it is—but he’s not there to get them off.

LEVI

sfw

When he cooks dinner, he always makes sure to make enough for you to have leftovers to take with you for lunch the following day. Especially if it’s a dish you’ve been wanting or try, or specifically asked him to cook.

He’s got a specific tote bag he brings with him to the grocery store/farmer’s market, and separate one for when he’s running other light errands.

He hates soda, not even just because it’s not the healthiest thing to drink—he just doesn’t like the feel of carbonated drinks; the only exception being when they’re mixed with liquor, but even then, it’s not his preference.

After a while, he just starts lying and says you’re married at places where it benefits you both, or to curb a longer conversation about the status of your relationship to people who are inquiring. He thinks it’s fucking weird that marriage is what shuts people up, but if it works, it works; less people prying in your guys’ business.

He likes giving you forehead kisses, and if you do it back, he’ll learn that he doesn’t mind receiving them either.

He’s such a sucker for you rubbing your thumb against the back of his hand when you guys hold hands. He might not act like he notices, but he always does; and somewhat craves little touches like that the longer you guys are together.

nsfw

He would never admit it to anyone, but birthday sex is up there for his favorite kind of sex. He never cared much about his birthday… until he realized he could get that as a gift. He knows it’s not different, but he likes it, nonetheless; one the few times he doesn’t mind having all the attention on him.

King of aftercare, though some of his methods usually lead to another round—in which he teases you for cancelling out his work, when you know he was just as willing and eager.

He likes edging himself and overstimulating you; and with his self-control, that makes for a pretty dangerous combination.

He’s strong and he knows how to use it to his advantage: maneuvering you with a single arm, holding both your wrists above your head with one hand, pushing your head down into the sheets when he’s fucking you from behind.

Sex is one of the few times Levi doesn’t mind making a mess—and in fact, he likes it messy; watching you drip onto the sheets, making you spit on his dick and fucking your face until you drool. He always goes on about how sloppy you are, how you can’t keep anything clean, but he fucking loves it.

[achillieus]

let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, sebastian desperately needs to hug the reader, infidelity, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning, this part is full of angst and built up tension,

part: 3/6

(other parts)   (masterlist)

Being Sebastian Stan is not a simple thing. Some days it makes him feel like he is only a porcelain face on screen. Nothing more than photographs and rumors. He had once told an interviewer he was scared people would never know the real Sebastian. What he meant was that he was worried he’d wake up one day and the real him would be vanished.

The world would have eaten him alive.

Walking you home, in empty streets in a small country makes it all easier. His mind is clear of dazzling thoughts and his heart is not racing up. He can smile and no one will be there to take a picture of him.

Somehow that makes him smile more.

And when he does, it feels like Christmas. And you are certain there will come a day where you’ll be so close to oblivion and unable to remember what mint tastes like or what your favorite color is, but you’ll still have the turned up corners of his mouth painted in your head.

He stops walking. You look at him confused. He’s fidgeting with his fingers.

“Back at the party,” he takes a long breath as if trying to slow down his heartbeat, “You were talking with that tall guy.”

He sounds terrified. You don’t understand why. He thinks it’s better that way.

“Yeah I was.” There’s a flicker of surprise in your voice.

“Do you know him well?” You realize you have stopped in front of a pharmacy, the halogen light above you, turning your skin a sick green color.

“I know he’s an actor.” You take a step, finding the courage to walk away from him. “He’s kinda famous here.”

You can hear him move close behind you.

“Do you want me to ask Argyris if he’s single?”

There’s mockery in his voice. It makes you feel intoxicated. It’s your turn to stop walking. Your gaze falls on his face and Sebastian can feel his eyes sting but he keeps them open; wide and pale blue.

Almost green, under this light.

“No.”

“Oh don’t be sh-“

“No, I mean it. I would never date a famous guy.”

“Why?” A hasted breath escapes his trembling lips. And for a moment you think of kissing him right there; in the middle of the street, but you never do.

His world moves too fast for people like us.

That’s what you want to yell back at him, but then you remember;

The evening Sebastian fell asleep in your couch, he was more than a famous guy. He was clutching on your pillow like a kid and he was humming to himself like your father used to.

And he smiled as he fell asleep.

There is no argument left in you. He’s just a boy.

“I’m scared.” Your words slowly suffocate him. He feels the weight of your heart pulling him down.

He nods.

/

The next two days pass in a blur. You can hear him laugh with people as they walk up the stairs to Argyris’ flat. You’re not used to him not stopping at your door. It makes your cheeks red and your eyes filled with salty tears.

You haven’t realized until now, but you’ve become dependent on his presence.

So when you open your eyes at 4am with your phone buzzing with an Instagram message, you bite your cheeks.

Are you awake?

You stare at the screen to make sure you read it all correct, until it turns black and then lights up once again.

Why are you scared?

You don’t have to be scared with me.

I’m trying. You want to answer. Help me. You want to answer. Please.

You put your phone away until the words turn blurry.

/

He’s back at your door the following night. He’s wearing a white tank top and his rings. He must have just finished shooting.

You keep staring at each other, both tongue-tied with the words you’ll never say. He looks worried and desperate. You look tired and desperate. Taylor Swift is playing in the background.

“No more AC/DC?” He laughs and your eyes smile.

“Do you want to talk?” He asks.

You shake your head like you’re at war with yourself.

“Do you want to just stay here?” Your voice is too silent but it’s almost deafening him.

Sebastian thinks that he wants tons of things. He wants to hold you. And he wants to touch you. Everywhere. And he wants to know why there’s sorrow surrounding you. And he wants to take it all away.

And he wants you.

But he knows that he can’t tell you that. These words are too heavy for you to carry on your shoulders. At least for now.

“I’ll stay.” He says with a breath.

You give him an almost smile and all you can feel is gratitude.

/

You lay in your bed together. You’ve slept with other guys in that bed before. And it’s been nude and sloppy and brutal. But this is different. This is intimacy in its purest form. You’re both fully clothed but you both feel naked. And so close. So close.

All Sebastian can hear is the sound of your breathing and every bone inside him is breaking. He is afraid he’s turning paralyzed.

And then you move your body and bring your forehead next to his. Sebastian inhales deeply. You smell of faded vanilla body cream.

You look at him and you know then you can get used to that. You bury your fingers in the hem of his shirt. You want him to come closer. He knows.

“I’ll stay love,” his voice is steady and sincere “Anytime.”

He calls you love because there’s nothing else to call you. He calls you love because you both need him too.

“I don’t think that’s possible.” Sebastian thinks you’re always too sensible. It’s something you keep between the hollows of your body. “But it’s okay.”

His hand is in your hair. It soothes you.

“What happened? What broke you?” he whispers.

You don’t know what to say. You don’t know how everything started. It's hard to remember but there is one image in the back of your eyes that crawls through your skin and makes you shiver. You try to ignore it.

“I don’t know.” He turns his gaze at you but you look at the cold ceiling. It’s so much easier this way.

He doesn’t answer. He just draws circles in the back of your palm and places his lips against the scalp of your head. And while you’ve never been much of a science person, you’re certain this is how a nuclear attack emerges.

/

When the sun rises and you wake up, he’s not there. Earth moves slowly as the cold sheets press against your skin.

It’s early, there is a soft breeze coming in from your open window. A man is bickering with this wife across the street.

You can hear her call him a liar.

I’ll stay love.

You can hear him yell his apologies.

Anytime.

Why do people lie? Why do we lie?

You don’t try to search for him. You take a shower and drink some chocolate milk. You pay attention to the silence in the room. You almost forget your heart is still beating.

/

You bump into Argyris’ girlfriend while taking out the garbage. You like her a lot. She’s strong and pretty and smart. You wonder sometimes, how exactly that feels.

You pray she doesn’t mention him. It doesn’t work.

“He must be flying right now.” Suddenly you feel as if there is something rotten inside your chest. It makes you want to graze your skin and throw away everything that's inside.

You look at her slightly confused.

“He’s flying to Toronto; he has to attend a festival there.” She smiles. You’ve noticed she always smiles.

You just nod and step out of the building. Her voice stops you.

“He’s coming back in some days.”

“I don’t care.” Now she laughs.

“There’s no need to lie.” You take a sharp breath. “He cares too.”

You want to believe her words but they seem like choke chains.

You throw your garbage away.

You keep your rotten chest.

/

Sebastian sits back at his seat and orders a hundred and one drinks. The airplane is chasing the sun. He’s chasing his thoughts. Neither will ever catch up.

He used to like travelling. Airports, suitcases and foreign hotel rooms made him feel free. Now they make him feel the opposite.

The material on his seat is rugged. He wants to go back to your soft sheets. He can’t.

And then he imagines a place and a time where he could just kiss you without any possible consequences. He imagines a place where you could rest your bodies together for a long time without worries weighing you down. He imagines a place where he gets what he wants. A place where that thing between you two is more than enough.

The sun blinds him. He closes the small window and then his eyes.

Being Sebastian Stan is not a simple thing.

Some days he can’t take it.

/

You’re sitting on the floor and it’s almost 9 in the morning. You’ve calculated the time difference and it’s 2 in the morning where he is. That sounds wrong. Almost scary.

He left three days ago but he’s everywhere. There are photos of him wearing stupid floral shirts and posing in a sophisticated way. And there’s Nicole Kidman next to him.

God. I’ve become infatuated with a man who plays in movies with Nicole Kidman and Robert Downey Jr.

That’s what you think and you know you’re doomed.

You expect him to send you a message or a picture at first, but he doesn’t. You wonder if your time together was only a blurry puzzle of disconnected memories that somehow fits in his past.

He’ll simply forget all of it.

You try not to think about him but then you meet Argyris in the lobby and you have to bite the inside of your mouth so his name doesn’t jump out from your lips.

You go to bed early that day. You hold onto your pillow and you count the hours that separate you.

(13 hours with a plane)

(25 days with a boat)

You count and you fall asleep.

And you fall in love.

/

It’s not uncommon to rain in Toronto. But today rain feels heavier on Sebastian’s skin. He remembers the day he met you; it was hot and the sun made the window glass look like it was about to melt. That memory is the cause of his shivering.

Once upon a time he was in love. He was in love with a girl who had ethereal written all over her body. He was in love with a girl who was destined for divinity.

But those were the old days; they are dead and gone now. Your skin glistening under the Athenian sun changed it all.

It’s not easy to feel this way. The sky understands so it opens up and pours down on his dark hair. He presses his eyes closed with his fingers. And he tries to imagine a version of himself that doesn’t think about you that often.

He can’t.

Not even when he has a deity as his girlfriend.

/

The next time you see him, his hair is a little longer and much messier than you remember. And you have to devour all the sense that’s left inside you as not to touch it with your bare hand.

He has a cigarette in his fingers and a dark jacket thrown around his shoulders and everyone’s asking him about the festival. You just sit on the corner of your neighbor’s flat and listen to laughter and glasses clicking against each other. And you smile.

Smile; because he’s here.

And then he notices you and you’re pretty sure his eyes linger on your face a little longer than it's normal for humans. And his gaze is so brilliantly blank and loony that you don’t know how to respond. And then he starts to cough. And he never looks at you for the rest of the night.

You want to believe it’s better this way.

But it makes you so angry; you want to clench your teeth hard.

/

It goes like this; you don’t exchange any words for the next two days and it feels like your lips will start to bleed.

And you don’t know but his head feels like battlefield.

“When do you know you can’t stop it?” He asks Argyris. He feels ashamed.

“When you don’t want to stop it.”

He grabs the beer can and drinks his confusion away. He hopes alcohol will send his thoughts to sleep but instead it sends him to your door.

He rests his head against the wooden material. He can hear water running down and he can hear you humming a song.

And the foreign words make no sense to him but somehow they sound like lyrical poetry.

He waits for the water to stop and then he knocks.

/

Your hair is wet and sticks to your blue shirt. Your eyes grow wide when you see him standing there.

“I thought you’d never come at my door again.”

He looks at the floor.

“I shouldn’t.”

He sounds defeated; defeated by his own self. And you can smell the flammable liquid on his breath. And you can see that he has his nails pressed against his palm. You take his hand in yours and he closes his eyes. You caress the little cuts with your fingers. There are no scars but the skin is still red and painted with fear. You understand and it makes you feel dirty and obscene.

You look thoughtful for a moment and then you decide you can’t go on like this. It will split your souls.

“How’s Canada?” His eyes fill with surprise and he laughs. It gives you pride.

“Never been?”

He takes a step inside your place and his eyes fall on the empty bottle of pills at the kitchen table.

He doesn’t say a word about it.

You love him for that.

“I’ve never been anywhere.” Your cheeks are flushed with a soft raspberry color.

Sebastian realizes then that he wants to show you the entire world. Every corner of it. He wants to hold your hand as you walk beneath the Corsican stars. And he wants to memorize the Northern lights with you by his side. And he wants to see you laugh as he falls off his surf board in New Zealand. And he wants every cliché thing there is to do.

His heart stretches at the thought of it.

“Canada is beautiful in its own way.” He looks out of your window.

You wonder if he’s trying to find some more constellations in the sky, but then he turns around and walks towards you.

“I’ve been there a lot of times.”

Of course you have, you think.

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ears. It’s still damp and cold.

“Have you been to a lot of places?” He smiles and nods.

And then you can sense it; the sharp feeling of heartbreak crawling under your skin. You try to ignore it.

“I used to be grateful I travel all the time.”

You place your hand on his chest. The beating makes you calm.

“You’re not grateful anymore?”

He rubs his palm over his face.

“I am,” he inhales “But sometimes I just want to stay where I am.”

Yeah, I know.

He leaves an hour later, still drunk.

Still in love.

/

On Sunday, he takes you out for dinner. You tell him you don’t like dates. He promises it’s not a date.

You know you’re both lying.

He orders some red wine and he drinks as he watches you eat. It all feels natural to him. Somewhere at the back of his head though, there’s still some rationality left, that makes him think, this can’t be wrong, when it feels so natural.

He doesn’t drink any more.

/

You’re playing with the maraschino cherry on your dessert when his phone rings and your world comes crashing down.

You don’t intend to but you see the caller ID.

Love.

He had called you love one night.

He feels too guilty to look at you so he grabs the device and gets out of the place.

You want to throw the ice cream on the floor.

And then you want to hit the wall; with your head. But you can’t. So you just bite down at the cherry and wait for him to come back.

And when he does, things are different.

He doesn’t to try to make jokes and you don’t laugh. His eyes are everywhere but on you and your hand stays away from his.

You tell him you’re done with dessert so you can leave.

He has never felt more relieved.

/

Your pace is fast, but he catches up. You can’t outrun him.

His breath quickens as he comes closer. It’s almost innocent and childlike, the look he gives you.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers and it makes you laugh. You laugh and you shake your head and it’s not enough.

“Why?” He can taste the bitterness all over you. “This wasn’t date. So why are you sorry?”

You keep walking and his breath keeps echoing in your ears. You find the entrance of your building.

You’ve seen the place a hundred times but only now you notice how old it looks. It makes you disgusted. It makes you want to vomit.

It starts with him saying he doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

And then you rest your body at the soiled wall, trying to remind yourself you’ve had your heart broken before. And your eyes are not dry anymore. And you can taste salt in your lips. And he comes closer and he holds you.

You swear you see tears in his cheeks too, but he’s too fast to wipe them away.

“Have you ever done anything only to regret it a second later?”

You’re not certain which one of you asks but you can hear your bones breaking as you throw your head around and he arches his back.

His hands touch the dried tears on your face and it stings like sewing needles. And his lips touch yours. And for a brief moment you feel like you’re stealing from life.

And he can taste all of you; raw.

And it feels like fists that punch him.

And when you pull away you both have already regretted everything.

“Now you have something to be sorry for.”

You wonder if perhaps a broken dignity is better than a broken heart.

/

i really appreciate feedback, it motivates me tons and also tell me if you’d like to be tagged :)

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[mikalara-dracula]

Sharing a bed with their s/o

ft. Yuma and Subaru

Warning: 18+ content below; don't read if you're a minor.

Yuma:

Yuma doesn’t really sleep a lot.

He’s far off from being like a certain narcoleptic blonde vampire we all know.

Tbh, he uses his bed more for sex than sleep.

Like, he’s always doing something in general and doesn’t rest too much due to how much endurance he has through being a vampire.

For example, he’ll be up for days straight and not rest at all--that’s how productive he is.

But when he gets tired, he will use his bed to sleep.

So when he wanted to rest, he decided to crash in your bed since he thinks that sleeping beside you will guarantee him a good sleep, but this is really just an excuse to lay down next to you.

Despite him being your boyfriend and you loved being with him at any time, you really didn’t want him to sleep next to you because he was known to snore.

“Yuma, why can’t you sleep in your bed?” You’d ask.

“What? You don’t like me sleeping in your bed?”

“Yeah, you keep me up all night since you snore.”

“Hey! At least I’m not the one who drools.”

“I don’t drool!”

“Oh really, why do you wake up with a wet pillow then?”

“I do not!”

“Liar.”

While laying down next to you, if you’re facing in the opposite direction of him, he likes to pull you close to him and nuzzle his face into the back of your neck.

And you’re always the little spoon, he never changes this because he thinks you’re too small to be in charge. Plus, Yuma likes it best when he’s the one having his arms around you.

He gets mad when your back is turned to him honestly.

“Why are you always turned in the other direction? I can never see my babe that way.”

“You don’t need to, I’m trying to sleep unlike you who only wants to make kids.”

“Hey! Our childern would be beautiful, there’s no arguing that.”

“Good night, Yuma.”

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you don’t wanna make little pigs?”

“They wouldn’t be little pigs.”

“Alright, you don’t like that word--piglets then.”

Likes to also lay his hand on your hip, having his hand travel down to your thigh and grip it if he’s feeling playful.

He’ll even go as far as to clutch your ass or give it a small smack, making you jolt up and scold him.

“Yuma! I’m trying to sleep.”

“It’ll be just a few minutes, little pig.” He’d smirk, implying his need.

“But Yuma, I’m sleepy.” You’d whine.

“Seriously! I’m tryin’ put you in the mood and you’re just gonna sleep?”

“I’m tired, it’s been a long day. Why not tomorrow?”

“Oh my god, you’re really turning this down right now?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.” He’d say, giving up as he’d turn away from you and face the opposite direction.

However, him facing the other way won’t last long since he’d get another idea.

“Okay fine, you can sleep, but it doesn’t mean I can’t do this.” He’d say, grabbing you by your waist and pulling you on top of him, feeling his rock-hard body against yourself.

“Yuma! I can’t sleep on top of you.”

“You did it all those other nights. What’s the problem with it now?”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

“Oh really? Then why did I wake up with all that drool on me in the morning.”

“I don’t drool!”

“Quit lying!” He’d say, clutching your ass to tease you further.

If you’re the type to get cold, he warms you up but he hogs the blanket but will say that it’s you that is stealing it all the time.

Since Yuma’s quite tall, he obviously weighs a lot more than most people, which causes a big shift in the bed when he turns.

When this happens, you usually end up rolling to where he sinks his weight upon and crash into him, and if he’s asleep, he’s not even awakened by you crashing into him--like, he doesn’t even flinch and only continues to snore.

He sometimes like to put a leg of yours, and when this happens, it’s hard to get out.

If he has an arm wrapped around your waist, good luck getting out of that.

You’ve tried, but it honestly never works.

In fact, if you try to get out of his grip while he’s sleeping, he just tightens it due to instinct since his dormant mind thinks that you’re slipping out.

Always tells you to not fall of the bed, but there have been times where you’ve found yourself on the floor in the morning due to these restless nights.

If you fall asleep first, he’ll look over at you to check if you’re sleeping, or mostly if you’re drooling, and will wave a hand over your face to see if you’re actually there.

If your hair is in your face, you can count on him to adjust it.

Thinks you look cute when you sleep.

“Heh, now I don’t have to hear your smart mouth until morning.” He’d tease, a smirk on his face as he’d fall asleep sooner than later as well.

Subaru:

Since he’s a pure blood vampire, he mostly sleeps during the day, but will also sleep in the middle of the night if he feels like it.

He prefers to sleep in his coffin but doesn’t always since you’re around.

He’ll act like he’s annoyed about sleeping next to you, but secretly, he loves the fact of you sleeping next to him since it gives him a sense of comfort, something he isn’t too familiar with.

Plus, we all know it’s all about him having the excuse to be close to your ass xDD.

Likes to pull you into him, and prefers if you’re facing him when he does this.

But loves it even more when your back is facing him and he can feel your ass press up against him.

Mostly because he’s an ass man xDD.

He'll share a few soft kisses with you, or might have a small makeout with you depending on what he's in the mood for.

Might place a small kiss on your forehead while you’re sleeping in hopes that you don’t wake up.

Since he sleeps very close to you, he likes to have his legs entangled with yours.

Secretly loves it when you fall asleep holding hands--like he loves this feeling.

If you’re curled up against him and are face to face, he likes being able to view your complexion.

Will move any stray locks from your face since he wants a clear view, causing a slight tint of rose to rise to your cheeks.

If he’s in a certain mood tho, things are a lot different.

He’ll whisper lewd things into your ears to make you blush and get a reaction out of you.

If you’re wearing sleep shorts he’ll mess with the band of your underwear with his hand to annoy you.

He’ll even go as far as traveling his hand up your leg to cup your crotch area.

“Stop it!”

“Stop it!” He’d mock, a smirk on his face, only finding your plea funny, leading you to playfully hit him.

Apart from him being horny on some days/nights, you two also have wholesome moments too.

Depending on the day/night, you guys might share deep and meaningful conversations that lean into being emo.

Subaru likes to act like he’s dominant and in control, but would seriously be into being the little spoon.

However, this is only on occasion, and it usually happens on day/nights where he wants to be held.

He finds the bed to be a place where he can open up to you about a lot of things, and since you’re his s/o, you two have shared quite a lot together about each other.

Even though he’ll act like he’s annoyed, he likes it when you kiss him unexpectedly.

It honestly melts him on the inside.

Likes it when you run your hands through his hair and smile at him while doing so.

It honestly gives him such a great feeling since it’s hard for him to open up and accept affection of any sort.

[san-fics]

Breaking the rules

Felinette, Felix/Marinette, Felix/Ladybug

Part 10

MDC: guess what

Mr.X: what?

MDC: i’ll see u in three days

Mr.X: i guess

MDC: hey!

MDC: don’t tell me u changed yr mind!

MDC: i really need u in there

Mr.X: u do?

MDC: of course!

MDC: it wouldn’t happen if not for yr encouragement

Mr.X: we’ve been over it

Mr.X: i just said what i thought

MDC: fine

MDC: u can play grumpy

MDC: but u have to come anyway

MDC: i didn’t call any of my

MDC: any of the people that used to be my friends

MDC: i’m not ready to share it with them

MDC: and the public in general

Mr.X: after tomorrow everyone’s gonna know it’s u anyway

MDC: not exactly

Mr.X: explain

MDC: well, i’m not gonna appear as a designer for the line

MDC: it’s not so unusual, sometimes designers keep their personality unknown for some time

MDC: usually to attract more attention

Mr.X: what about u?

MDC: public attention is something i don’t really need right now

MDC: until i’m done with school and

MDC: some other unfinished things i have

Mr.X: so u decided stay anonymous

MDC: yep

Mr.X: we’ll come back to this conversation

MDC: no, really

MDC: i’m not ready

Mr.X: ok

MDC: )

MDC: thank u

Mr.X: for what?

MDC: for understanding

Mr.X: i don’t

MDC: then for agreeing with me without understanding

Mr.X: it’s yr life

Mr.X: who am i to interfere

MDC: right

MDC: anyway

MDC: u won’t spoil my mood with yr grumpiness)

Mr.X: oh?

MDC: i feel alive today

MDC: like i finally let go of something heavy in my life

MDC: and i don’t have to wait and hope anymore for them to wake up

MDC: kind of like u said

MDC: i left the choice to them

MDC: to be blind

MDC: and i don’t depend on them anymore

MDC: and i feel kind of free

MDC: i even laughed today

MDC: i don’t remember the last time that i was actually laughing

Mr.X: i

Mr.X: am glad to hear that

MDC: i can’t figure him out

Mr.X: who?

MDC: the new guy

Mr.X: the one that u met but didn’t?

MDC: yeah

MDC: his actions actually seem genuine

MDC: but he is not suppose to have a motive to expose the liar

MDC: well, from what i know at least

MDC: he isn’t what u call a ‘nice guy’

MDC: and yet today he didn’t act the way i’d expect him

Mr.X: what did u expect?

MDC: i don’t know

MDC: but not this

MDC: it’s weird not being able to read into someone’s motives

MDC: like there is a piece of puzzle that’s missing

MDC: i feel hmmmmm

Mr.X: frustrated?

Mr.X: upset?

MDC: intrigued

*

The next morning Felix was already sitting in the class when Marinette arrived. He raised his head, reacting to the movement and for a moment their eyes met.

For some reason, it seemed to Felix that Marinet’s gaze was aimed at him in particular. But the next moment she looked away and he didn’t have enough time to read the expression on her face.

She went to sit on her chair next to him and placed a small box on his desk.

Felix blinked. Then looked at Marinette.

“What is this?” He asked.

“A thank you gift.” Marinette replied, turning to him her mostly impenetrable, but a little challenging face.

Felix turned to open the box. There were six coffee macarons inside.

“How did you know I like them?” He turned to her again.

“You do?” Marinette asked with genuine surprise in her voice and her face lit up with a smile.

“So you didn’t know.” Felix concluded.

“I uhh... I noticed you drink coffee every morning, but never with sweets. So I figured you might like their taste. They aren’t too sweet.”

“You are... observant.” He said. “You come the last moment almost every day. How did you managed to find time for buying them so early?”

“I uhh... actually I baked them.” A blush of embarrassment flashed across her cheeks. “So they are fresh.” She added avoiding his eyes.

Felix’s eyebrows went up. “You can bake?”

“My parents own a bakery across the street, so ummm, it’s a must I guess.”

When the teacher started the lesson, Felix was still staring at Marinette in disbelieve. Like really. Was there something she couldn’t do? And to think, she woke up early only to bake him a thank you gift.

It looked like his whole make-her-fall-in-love-with-me strategy was working the other way around...

*

That day Lila made four attempts to hunt Marinette with her trix even before lunch, but Felix was there every time, sometimes just blocking her way.

On the lunch brake he walked into their empty class following her, and caught Lila in the moment she was about to spill ink into Marinette’s bag left on her seat.

“Just try it, and see what happens next.” Felix said with a deadly cold voice.

He saw a grimace of anger on liar’s face, then was a moment of doubt, as if she was deciding whether to take his threat seriously. And finally she closed the ink and silently walked out of the classroom, giving him a look full of hate.

Few minutes later Felix herd a loud noise coming from the hallway, and went out to see what was happening.

A tall figure in a black dress with a red target on their chest stood at the end of the corridor.

The walls of the corridor around the figure were smeared with something black. Some people were stuck to it and covered with the same substance, that was blocking their movements.

“I am Achiever, and I will destroy everyone who prevents me from reaching my goal!” She yelled and turned to Felix. “You!” She barked and raised her hand with a black device resembling a water gun.

Felix jumped to the side even before the black liquid flew in his direction. But he didn’t land as something or someone picked him up in a flight.

Ladybug was carrying Felix away from the akuma bridal style, running fast through the hallway. She went out of the school and made a few jumps across the streets moving away from it.

“I’m not Adrien this time.” Felix said, when she finally placed him on his feet.

“I can see that.” She answered.

“Why did you save me then? He narrowed his eyes at her.

“You are a human being, aren’t you?” She said in an even voice, then looked back at the school. “Do you know why are they after you?”

“I’m not sure, but she is shooting an ink.” Felix reasoned.

“And?” Ladybug was looking at him with curiosity, probably trying to figure his logic out.

“I just saw a girl trying to spill some ink into my classmate’s bag. And I think I pissed her off.” Felix explained.

“Lila.” It was a statement, and Ladybug’s face became serious and gloomy.

“How did you...” Felix was almost impressed.

“It isn’t her first akumatization.” She replied. “I kind of know her deal.” Ladybug thought for a moment. “The akuma must be in her ink-shooter then.” She spoke to herself, then looked up at Felix. “Thank you, Felix.” She said and was about to leave.

“Hey Ladybug!” Felix caught her hand.

Ladybug looked at him sternly. “Wanna give me some courage again?” She asked coldly.

“No.” He let go of her hand. “Sorry about that. But, ummm, you really need to take a look at my cousin.”

“What do you mean?” Ladybug frowned.

“The guy is crazy about you.” He grimaced in condemnation. “He has his phone full of your pictures and all.”

“He does?” Her eyebrows jumped in surprise.

“Yeah. But he won’t make a move by himself. He is too pressed into the rules. So, umm, the other time I...” Felix didn’t even know why he had a need to explain himself to her. “I was kind of trying to... uhhh...”

“You were trying to draw my attention to Adrien.” Ladybug guessed.

“You could say that.” Felix agreed. It didn’t sound too goody-goody.

“Well, too bad it can only be a celebrity crush.” For a moment she seemed to be deep in thought. “He doesn’t see me for who I really am. We are all dreaming our perfect, but impossible dreams.” Then Ladybug remembered she wasn’t alone and looked at Felix again. “What about your unsuccessful cooperation with Hawk Moth?” Her eyes were peering into him again.

“I had my reasons.” Felix’s voice was proud and challenging.

“I see.” Ladybug prepared to leave. “Well, I don't approve of your methods, but it's good to know that you at least have some reasons to act the way you do.” And she zipped away towards the school.

[about this au]

[part 1]

[part 9] ... [part 11]

[more MLB fanfic]

[moonknightly]

bittersweet & delicate : modern! poe x reader

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: kes dameron is a dilf

Warnings: i think i said a bad word

Poe’s never been good with silence. He’s always been a loud person with a roaring personality to match, full of charm and charisma that he’d learned from his father. He’s always talking, always spewing stories and telling jokes to the people around him, and in the rare moment’s when he's verbally silent, you know that his mind is racing with ideas and memories replaying through his head.

But now, he’s just quiet. So quiet you’re beginning to worry about him. He’s sitting completely still at the island with his chin resting in the palm of his hand, and you’re leaning against the counter opposite of him, watching him closely, your eyes never straying from his face, just like his never moved from the small yellow envelope in front of him.

He’s been staring at that envelope all afternoon.  

You know what’s in it. You know why he’s quiet, why he can’t do anything but stare.

You know he’s waiting to open it until Kes gets there, but part of you wonders if he’d even be able to do it without him. He’s not ready.

He’s scared.

Fear — another bullet point on the list of things he’s never been good with. It makes him shut down, makes him forget to take care of himself until it passes or until he buries it down far enough to ignore.

But he has you, and if you can do anything, you can take care of him.

You know he hasn’t eaten, there aren’t any dishes in the dishwasher and you’d just unloaded it that morning. You honestly can’t remember if you’ve even seen him drink anything.

So that’s what you grab first. You slide the glass of water across the counter towards him, and he glances at it briefly before looking up at you with appreciation evident in his eyes. He takes it and raises it to his lips, finishing the whole thing in just a few seconds. You immediately pour him another glass, then silently move around the kitchen, trying to figure out what you can cook from what you have on hand.

You decide on some soup and a grilled cheese — simple, easy, comforting and fit for the occasion as well as the cold and snow outside. He finishes the soup first, and though he only eats half of the sandwich, that’s good enough for you.

“Thank you,” he mumbles once he’s finished, and he stands to clear his dishes but you grab them before he can, kissing his cheek in the process.

His cheeks turn a little pink like they always do, and you’re happy to see that even in his current state, your kiss can still make him blush.

“No problem, sweet boy.”

Poe smiles. He fidgets in his seat, and you can tell by the expression on his face that he feels awkward and unsure. Two more things he’s unfamiliar with. You leave his dishes in the sink to worry about later, then move to sit next to him.

You take his hand in yours and immediately notice that his fingers are slippery, covered in sweat but you don’t even flinch. You lean forward and kiss the tip of his nose this time, and the way that he scrunches his face makes your chest bloom.

“You doing okay?” you ask, though it seems a little redundant.

He shrugs his shoulders gently, takes a deep breath and sits up a little straighter. That tells you more than enough — he’s trying to make sure you don’t worry about him, he wants to appear like he’s held together by more than a few frayed threads.

“Just a little stressed out baby.”

“Liar.”

Poe sighs and shrugs again. He’s quiet for a moment, and when he does decide to speak, his voice waivers.

“I just...what if this isn’t it?”

Your arms are immediately around him, your hand on his head so you can cradle him against your chest. He lets you hold him, but doesn’t give you a chance to speak.

“The crash was over twenty years ago, there’s no way-”

He’s interrupted by a knock on your front door, and neither of you get up to answer it. You know it’s just Kes, and Kes knows he can just walk inside. He’s early, and Poe’s face falls. He’s not ready.

But again, you don’t think he ever will be. Even with Kes there to help him through it, even with you.

You listen as Kes kicks his shoes off in the hallway and hangs his jacket up on a hook. He sighs, and it’s quiet for a few seconds before you hear his footsteps walking towards you. He’s nervous too, you could feel it the second he walked through the door.

It’s warranted.

He takes a seat next to his son, his eyes fixating on the envelope sitting in front of him, just like Poe’s.

It still catches you off guard sometimes, how insanely alike the two Dameron’s look, how they share so many of the same mannerisms. Their smile is the same, their laugh is the same. They both rub the back of their neck when they’re embarrassed, and their cheeks turn the subtlest shade of pink.

They both have beautiful, breathtaking brown eyes, but you’ve seen pictures and know that Poe’s are one hundred percent Shara’s.

You know that Kes thinks the same every single time he looks at his son, because he gets this look in his eyes that’s so tender and warm or, depending on the day, far off and distant and sad.

Right now, it’s the sadness that prevails.

Kes sighs and shakes his head just a little bit. He runs a hand through his hair and pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose before lightly touching Poe’s shoulder, offering him support and reassurance, but you know Kes needs the contact for himself too. His hand is shaking.

“You okay kiddo?” he asks quietly, clearing his throat a little bit to hide the way it cracks.

You notice, but Poe doesn’t seem to. He only gives his father the same shrug he gave you, but he doesn’t look at him. He just keeps his eyes on the envelope.

Kes sighs again, and you bite your bottom lip, unsure if you should leave the two of them alone so they can have this moment together or if you should excuse yourself into another room. Kes glances towards you, almost like he can sense what you’re thinking — you’d always been close with him. He shakes his head, silently asking you to stay. You nod once.

Another round of silence takes over the room, with Poe still staring at the envelope and both you and Kes staring at him. Again, it’s Kes who breaks the silence.

“Do you want me to do it?”

Poe stays completely still, completely quiet. For a moment, you’re not sure he even heard his father’s question, but he finally shakes his head and reaches forward. His hands are shaking too.

He takes the envelope and turns it over his hands a couple of times, his teeth catching on his bottom lip while he prepares himself to open it. Kes keeps his hand on Poe’s arm, and you gently start to play with the hair at the nape of his neck — something you know Shara used to do to calm him down.

“Poe we don’t have to do this right now,” you remind him, your voice as gentle as you could possibly make it.

“No,” he answers immediately after, shaking his head hastily. “No, I don’t wanna wait any longer.”

He tears the envelope open before you and Kes can even blink. He hesitates again, for just a moment before reaching inside and grabbing a small card, a short message scribbled across it in messy handwriting. He passes it to his father, who also has no interest in reading it just then. They just want to see what else is inside.

Poe reaches back in and pulls out a clear plastic bag, but his fingers are hiding whatever sits inside. He stops again, takes a few deep breaths, then slowly opens his fist.

That breath was pointless, because all of the air comes rushing from his lungs in a single second. Kes immediately turns and buries his face into his son’s neck, and you watch as his shoulders begin to shake.

Sitting in Poe’s palm is a simple yet beautiful silver ring, one that you’ve only seen in pictures but instantly recognize. It’s unmistakingly Shara’s — no one had to look at the engraving to know for sure. It’s hers, without a single doubt it’s hers.

“Oh my God,” Kes breathes, picking his head back up to look at it again, almost like he’s making sure it’s still there. “Fuck.”

Poe’s still so quiet, just staring at the ring in his hand, completely entranced by it. You wipe at the tears running down your cheeks, then hug him again, kissing the top of his head over and over.

He brings it closer to his face, wanting to get a better look at the ring he hasn’t seen in over twenty years, the ring he used to play with when he was a small boy and couldn’t sleep at night. He’s told you the story before, so many times.

Shara would slip it onto a chain for him whenever he’d wake up from a nightmare. Whenever he was scared of the monsters hiding under his bed or whenever there was a storm raging on outside, she’d clasp it around his neck to wear for the night. She’d promise him that it would keep him safe, protect him from all of the bad and bring him peace, make him feel at ease enough to rest. It always worked.

He still has the chain, he’s worn it every single day since he was eight years old, but the ring had gone down with Shara, buried in the sand along with the remnants of her broken and charred plane. Kes had gone to look for it so many times after the crash, but he’d never been able to find it. The only thing he’d managed to bring back were burnt pieces of metal — a piece for him and Poe each that they both held onto with pride.

And so a month before, when Poe got an email from a man claiming to have found his mother’s ring while he was surveying the area with his metal detector, from a man who said he’d spent the last six months trying to track Poe or Kes down, he hadn’t believed it. It just didn’t seem possible.

But there it was, sitting in the palm of his hands. The man had even gotten it professionally cleaned.

All three of you sit there and just continue to stare at it, your emotions staying somewhere between disbelief and awe. You don’t know how much time passes before Poe finally shifts, holding the ring out to his father.

Kes takes it. He touches it so carefully, so gently, almost like it’ll break between his fingers. There’s still tears rolling down his cheeks, and you can’t tell if they’re happy or if they’re sad. You figure it’s somewhere in between.

“What are you going to do with it?” Poe asks quietly, his gaze flickering between the ring and the other man’s face.

Kes furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head. Ever since he found out that someone might have found the ring, there’s only been one thing on his mind, one option.

“What am I going to do with it? What are you going to do with it?”

Poe mirrors his father’s expression, and again you’re reminded of how eerily similar they are. “What do you mean? Dad, that’s yours.”

“It was your mother’s.”

“Yeah, and-”

“No.” Kes shakes his head again and reaches for Poe’s wrist. He flips his arm so he can set the ring back into his hand, then closes his son’s fingers around the piece of jewelry. “She’d want you to hold onto it.”

His eyes flicker to you, for just a moment before he looks back at Poe.

“Find someone to give it to one day or something.”

Poe’s quiet again, for almost a minute before he finally speaks again, his voice quiet, almost timid. “Are you sure?”

Kes nods, a small smile playing at his lips. He squeezes Poe’s wrist before letting go.

“Positive kiddo.”

Poe nods too, but he still really only stares, not sure if he wants to cry or smile.  

“I can put it on your chain, if you want,” you offer, already moving to unclasp it from around his neck.

That elicits a smile from him, but you’re too distracted to notice.

So distracted trying to get the chain undone, you also miss the look he shares with his father in that moment.

There’s only one thing on his mind, one option.

That ring, his mother’s ring belongs with you.

Now he just has to find the right moment to give it to you.

[ithehellisbucky]

For You

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Request: “I love you isn’t always enough.”

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Angst to end all angst. PTSD, depression, spiraling, fighting, break up, sad shit.

Author’s Note: I meant for this to be out on Sunday because I wrote it last Monday but I forgot. Anyways this is really sad, but I'm proud of myself because I wrote the ~spoiler alert~ "breaking up to protect the reader" but its the reader doing to breaking up.

~

When it takes a century to find happiness, you thought it would stick.

From the moment that Bucky walked into your life (literally, walked into your bookshop) you knew that you wouldn't leave him behind any time soon.

There was something about him that would float around in your heart forever until you saw him again, and then the process would repeat.

The first 6 months of your relationship was a honeymoon phase. Waking up to him staring at you in adoration every morning. He stayed at your apartment every day. Cuddling in the middle of the night when he had nightmares, holding him when he was scared to touch anything.

Showing him your love in any and every way you could. Making misshapen pancakes together, and him showing you his favorite movies and books from the 30s and 40s. Pure happiness.

But there was something about Bucky that couldn't sit still. He can't live your little happy life knowing that there is someone out there.

It had caused many fights, you never wanted him to go back to crime-fighting, and he wanted to prove himself. And as much as you tried to tell him that he was already a hero, he was persistent that he had to make up for things that the man that used to live in his brain did.

It drove you crazy.

You were laying on the couch reading a book and absent-mindedly watching a mediocre television show you've seen twice before. You hear each of your locks click twice and from the weight of his footsteps and settle back down into comfort.

"Hi, baby." Bucky walks over to you and presses a kiss onto your forehead.

"Hi honey, how was therapy." You ask as he snuggles into your embrace and you put your book down.

"Boring," he exclaims as you stroke his hair.

"Boring is better than bad, I'm proud of you," He smiled at you and pressed a kiss to your collarbone.

Instead of saying the 'I love you' that you wanted to say, you replaced it with: 'I'm proud of you', 'Stay safe', and 'honey' 'baby' 'sweetheart'.

It wasn't what you wanted, but it'd have to do until your love was ready to hear it.

"I'm making pasta, when do you wanna eat?" You exclaim, wrapping your legs around his torso, and realizing that you are fully entangled in a cuddlefest.

"Maybe an hour, I'm never hungry after Dr. Raynor."

You nod and can tell he understood your response.

You hold each other in blissful peace, eat your food, and go to bed. Bucky does things a certain way to sleep. He wraps his body around yours and sleeps closer to the door, so if someone tried to attack he could protect you in an instant. When he can't sleep he goes into the living room and lays down on the floor to watch tv. He's never slept comfortably before, so it's hard to sleep in safety.

Apparently, tonight was one of those nights. You woke up in the middle of the night to an empty bed.

You reach over and notice that the bedsheets are sweaty and his shirt is on the ground near the door. Bucky was fine with his arm around you, it took some time to show him that he's worthy of love- prosthetic included.

You walk towards the door wearing only one of Bucky's shirts and underwear with little flowers all over it.

"Hey Bucky, are you okay..." Your voice trails off when you notice Bucky staring at the tv with hollow eyes and an unrelenting gaze. "Baby what's wrong?" You slowly walk closer to him and place your hand on his shoulder, even though all you want to do is run to him and hold him.

At first, you think that he doesn't notice until he turns around and shows tear-brimmed eyes. "He gave away the shield."

He can't seem to say anything other than that, so you reach over and hold his face to your neck. You help him get up and walk over to your room and your bed, not bother to pick up his bedding or turn off the tv. You lay gently down in bed, and hold him close to you and let him sob into your chest.

The next day Bucky's acting odd, to say the least. But you don't push it, he's been through enough in the past 24 hours. Finding out that the pretty much only constant in your life was in the hands of a stranger isn't something you can take lightly.

He left in the morning and he didn't come back until late at night. When you ask him where he was he shrugged and ate a single-serving pizza in a record three minutes then went straight to bed, leaving you eating leftovers by yourself in the dark. Not exactly the perfect day.

The same happens for the next 2 days, and then the next day he doesn't come home, and all you get is a text that he'll be home back Sunday. That leaves you with paralyzing fear for the days he's gone, and when he comes back to you at 3:30 in the morning he has a black eye and knuckle-shaped bruises all over the parts of his body you can see, which is no small feat considering the super-soldier serum pumping through his veins.

"Where the hell have you been Bucky?" You yell once he's sat down on the couch like nothing ever happened.

"I was doing stuff." He shrugs and clicks on the tv.

You snatch the remote off the table and turn it off. "You can't just disappear for days and act like nothing ever happened!"

He rolls his eyes and gets up, beginning to walk towards the bathroom "Don't walk away from me! You don't get to walk away from this!"

He turns around and glares at you with the gaze that you've seen him use plenty of time at guys who were checking out your ass at bars.

"Why the hell can't I?" He spits out and towers over you.

"Because this is a relationship and you can't walk away whenever you want to and expect everything to be fine!" His anger doesn't intimidate you. "What the fuck did you expect me to do? Bake you cookies and shampoo your hair when you got home?

I'm not your bitch and you're not a liar, so tell me what's going on." You exclaim, hoping that he'll tell you something other than what you know is really going on.

"I was out with Sam."

"Oh my god," you sigh, turning away from him.

"There's this group called the flag smashers, and they're trying to cause a revolution or something," you run your hand through your hair, "and the new Captain America was there, and he's not a good guy, so me and Sam were-"

"No. No Bucky no." He seems slightly taken aback, but what honestly was he thought was going to happen.

"I don't care if you run around beating up bank robbers or making amends for things you didn't do, I do care that you lied to me about something that could've killed you."

"I know it's just-" He says, scratching his head with his metal arm.

"It's just what? That you want to help people? There are plenty of things you can do to help people other than getting beaten up Bucky!"

You take a deep breath and think it through more, "you know what, I'm blowing it out of proportion, you were just trying to help Sam and you were scared, let's just talk to Dr. Raynor and figure something out tomorrow."

You turn to go to bed and notice that Bucky isn't following "what's wrong?"

Bucky takes a deep breath "I'm not seeing Dr. Raynor anymore."

You turn around, angrier at him than you've ever been, "what?"

"John, the new Captain America, wants me to be focused on the mission, and therapy is just a distraction."

You can practically feel anger boiling through your veins. "Do you even hear yourself? You sound crazy. I would be fine if you went on missions or teamed up with Sam, but you can't stop going to therapy Bucky."

"Yes I can; the whole point is that I can make my own decisions. It's my choice." Bucky exclaims, yelling at you louder than you thought he ever would.

"Okay. If you think that making decisions is about ruining your life because you can, go ahead." You look him straight in the eyes, all fear gone. "you can quit therapy and implode all the progress you've made" you take a deep breath "and get out of my house."

Bucky drops all of his anger and steps back in shock and fear. "What?"

"I'm not going to let you ruin your life Bucky. When I met you, you wouldn't even let me see your arm. I've realized, that you are dependent on me, and that's not okay Bucky, because you deserve better than only having one good thing."

You were holding back tears, but in this moment you needed to help Bucky, and the only way to do that was to make sure he would be okay. And he can't do that if you are the only thing in his life. "You had nothing for 70 years Bucky, and now that you have the whole world you can't keep holding on to one person. You lost Steve, and then you were desperate to find something else to hold onto. You need to find yourself Bucky."

"No, no please don't do this. I- I love you." He starts crying and it takes everything in you not to run to him and hold him.

"Love isn't always enough Bucky." You turn around to leave your apartment in the middle of the night, "I love you more than anything, but I can't let you ruin your life. Go back to therapy, Buck, I'll be here. I'll wait. Go live the life you finally have Bucky. I love you."

You walk out your door and the second you close it you start sobbing. You wander out into the street and wonder if you did the right thing.

You hoped and you begged and you pleaded that Bucky would discover the world that he deserved. You wouldn't abandon him, you would make sure he stayed alive, he just needed time to be free. This wasn't for you, you reminded yourself, it's for Bucky.

Always for Bucky.

Requests are open!

Prompt List

~Taglists are open~

Permanent Tags: @natasha-danvers​

Marvel:

[speechlessxx]

Bring Him Light - x (King!Steve Rogers x Reader)

Chapter Summary: The truth finally comes out.

Warnings: brief mention of sex, mentions of death, really shitty writing tbh, dialogue driven. (NOTE: when concerning the flashbacks, he’s actually explaining to the reader what happened)

Word Count: 2.5k

Note: Feel free to send me any questions because I know this is a really crappy chapter. (of course, I’m not going to reveal the rest of the plot)

<- Last Part -=+=- Next Part ->

You could still taste the salt from the sea on your lips. The memories of what happened aboard that ship still fresh like a wound that you’d carry forever. You stared at your hands that were conjoined with your husband’s. The wedding bands glistened in the dimmed room.

“Will you believe me if I told you everything?” Steven asked. His thumb drew soothing circles on the back of your hand. His grip tight as if he were afraid you’d disappear again.

“Everyone’s lied to me.” You whispered. You looked towards Wanda’s body, still covered with the bloodstained tarp. “What would make you any different?”

“This is the truth,” he promised. “The complete truth.”

When Steven was young, his mother doted on him because he was a sickly child. He grew up to have her compassion, optimism, and idealism. He was sixteen when his father unexpectedly died, and he was hailed King of Brooken. He wanted to carry his mother’s ideals into a new age for Brooken, but he underestimated what it meant to have a crown on his head.

The sacrifices he’d have to make, the betrayals he’d have to face, the blood he’d have to spill. He’s told more lies that he could count – all in the name of protecting his reputation and his power. A cruel king is respected after all. The lies were like storm clouds that poured hard. He drowned in them and got lost in the darkness those clouds brought. The lies burdened him more than anyone would ever know.

You squeezed hand, breaking him away from his thoughts. “Steve?” Your tone was soft, coaxing him back into reality. He welcomed the calm you brought. It eased the storm inside of him. You were ready for the truth – perhaps, you’ve always been ready. “Unburden yourself, my love.”

“I don’t know where to start.” He said, honestly. It was true. There was so much to the story. He wasn’t quite sure where it began.

“Start with Margaret, perhaps?” You suggested.

“I was young,” he began. “Twenty-one years old. Five years on the throne. They told me I needed a wife.”

“They?”

“Pierce and the old council.” He answered. “Brock’s father had just died, so he took the vacant seat. At first, I thought having my cousin on the council would alleviate the tension. The lords on the council were nearly twice my age, if not more. They saw things differently than I did. They wanted different things. Sometimes I felt as if I were their puppet. I was young when I took the throne. Sixteen. I didn’t know what to expect, so I leaned on their counsel. I depended on them,” he scoffed, remembering his earlier years on the throne. “They told me I needed to continue the line succession. Thanos was beginning to make a name for himself by this time. He had lovers and spawned two daughters. His line was growing, and the Rogers’s wasn’t. So, I asked them to find me a match. Pierce brought in Lady Margaret of House Carter. I was smitten when I first laid eyes on her.”

Steven sat tall upon his throne. The room was empty. Brooken had a tradition that detailed that those in royal betrothals must meet for the first time in private. He was giddy with excitement. Lady Margaret’s portraits were presented to him a month ago. She was easily one of the most beautiful creatures he’d ever seen. Lord Pierce made the arrangements and they were to marry within a week. “House Carter is a respected house in the Old World,” Pierce advertised.

The doors opened wide and a young woman walked through. Her hair was dark as night. Her lips painted a bright red. She smiled at him and bowed. “Your grace,” she greeted. “I am humbled to make your acquaintance and, of course, honored to be your betrothed.”

“I didn’t know her, truly. I didn’t realize how manipulative she was from the beginning. She charmed and enchanted me to do her bidding. We were married for nearly a decade. No children. She didn’t want children. I didn’t want to lose her, so I agreed.

“She had many faces. A face she’d show the people that made them love her. A face she showed me that hypnotized me. And the face she’d show my allies, which were her foes. She fought with James incessantly – even tried to make me banish him. I refused. He was my oldest friend. I promised the moment I took the throne, my riches, my blessings were his to share. She was trying to isolate me. She banished my allies from court. James warned me she was a devil. I refused to listen. I thought her a gift from the gods themselves. Until I caught her poisoning my mother.”

“What?” You gasped.

Steven nodded. The haunting memory pained him still.

He woke up alone after a long night of making love to his queen. It was early in the morning; the sun had barely risen. Orange streaks painted the sky. He searched for Margaret, wanting to jest her for allowing him to wake up alone. He found her whispering to his sick, elderly mother who was bedridden due to a broke hip.

“You won’t get away with it. My son will find out,” his mother croaked.

“Not from you,” Margaret gave her a wicked smile as she slathered arsenic-riddled paint on his mother’s toast. The thick substance looked like jam, but Steve knew better. She force-fed the queen mother the poisoned bread.

“What are you doing!” Steve boomed into the room, pushing his wife aside as his mother choked. “Guards! Get a physician!”

“She died later that evening.” Steven shook his head. It was your turn to console him. You released one of your hands from his grip and rubbed his arm. He took a shaky breath. “I stabbed Margaret in the heart in front of Rumlow, Pierce, James, and Sam’s father. I didn’t know, yet, that her betrayals were much deeper than the murdering my mother.”

“Enter Sharon?” You asked.

“I was widowed for a year. Pierce brought her in. The younger cousin of Margaret.” He continued. “Married two days after her arrival in Brooken.” He chuckled humorlessly at his naivete. “I should’ve never marry a stranger.”

“We married in two weeks.” You noted. “We were practically strangers, too.”

Steven shook his head in disagreement. He didn’t feel that way. In the two weeks he grew to know you, he learned the innerworkings of your mind, your soul. He knew he was in love with you, truly, even before he wrapped the cloak around your shoulders during the wedding ceremony.

“We weren’t strangers.” He said. “Far from it. Sharon was distant. Defiant. We never consummated our marriage, not that anyone would know. She refused to sleep in my chambers, refused to be held, or anything, really. It felt as if I had married a ghost that everyone could see. I couldn’t touch her, but she still haunted these halls.”

“You beheaded her.” You said. Steven bit his lip as he nodded. “Pierce said you beheaded her out of spite.”

Steven cocked his head to the side, brows raising, as if he entertained the idea. “Well, she was spiteful.”

“The men in the prisons… They preferred her over you and you imprisoned them, correct?”

Steven sighed. He was disappointed that you were so quick to believe rumors and lies about him, but he blamed himself for not being completely honest from the start. “Sharon plotted a coup on behalf of the Mad King.”

“How can you be certain?” You asked.

“She admitted it when she was caught.”

Steven stared down at the blonde. Her eyes wide as he finished reading her encrypted letter. “You’re not subtle. You’re not discreet.” He spat at her, crumpling the paper and throwing it at her feet. “You work for the Mad King. You’re here to topple me. Rip the crown from my head and give it to him. The game’s over, Sharon. You’ve lost. Your followers all caught and imprisoned. I will get a confession and you will die for treason.”

She recomposed herself, rolling back her shoulders with confidence. “You think you can just kill off another queen? What will people think of you, Steven.”

“I am pulling the weeds from my kingdom.” He snapped. “You Carters are all the same. Traitors. Liars.”

“Margaret was good.” Sharon complimented. “She had you wrapped around her finger for a decade. If she hadn’t been caught killing your mother, then she would’ve convinced you to ally yourself with Thanos.” She turned her head to the side and gave him a smirk. “Then, she would’ve killed you along with your mother. Such a shame, she was caught.”

“You admit. You’re a traitor.”

“Of course, I admit it. But mind you, your grace, your enemies are all over Brooken. You cut me down today, someone else will cut you down tomorrow.”

“I beheaded her for treason.”

“You didn’t tell people that your queens were committed treason. You allowed rumors to spread about your cruelty to your wives.” You frowned.

“As I told you before, a cruel king is respected.” Steven muttered. “But I never wanted you to be afraid of me.”

“Isn’t it odd?” You asked. “Both queens chosen by Pierce were traitors.”

Steven nodded. “They pushed me to get married once more, but I told them, this time I’ll choose my bride.”

“Me.”

“It’s three years after the War between the North. Tony and I were close before. I fought alongside your father when York was invaded ages ago.”

“You fought over a disagreement over land.”

“More than land. He wanted James dead. James’s father killed your grandfather. Since James’s father had died long before, your father asked for my friend’s head. I refused. So, a war erupted.”

“You traded blows with my father on the battlefield.” You recalled. You remembered your mother’s cries and pleads with the gods, asking for them to protect your father’s life. “He returned to my mother bloodied. You cut through his armor. But you looked him in the eyes and called the war off.”

“No one won.”

“No one.” You agreed. “Three years later, you ask my father for a wife.”

“I needed a wife I could trust. Although we had our differences, I trust your father with my life. I know Tony’s blood. I know how you would’ve been raised to be loyal. You took after your father and your mother.” Steven explained. “I didn’t trust Pierce to find me a wife that could slit my throat in the night.”

“You trust me?” You asked.

“The moment I stared into your eyes and saw fear… I knew you knew the rumors. I knew you thought of me as cruel – our first encounter made that clear.” He smiled at you softly. His fingers lightly traced the scars of your wrist. He brought your wrist to his lips and pressed a light kiss onto the skin. “But, truthfully, my trust in you waned when I saw you with Brock and Pierce leaving the dungeon. I began to think you were conspiring with them.”

“I – I – I wasn’t.”

“I know that now.” He said. “I realized you were afraid of disappointing me because you didn’t … you weren’t –“

“Pregnant.” Your voice wavered, immediately brought back to the painful memory of losing your baby alone on the boat. “I should’ve told you I was, though. But I was afraid. I thought you were going to kill me. You struck me.”

“I’m terribly sorry.” Steven shook his head. No amount of apologizes could ever make up to the faded scar on your cheek.

“I was afraid for my life and the child’s. They manipulated me because of my fears. They prayed upon it and convinced me to trust them. And I did. In turn, I – I lost my best friend and my baby.”

Steve pulled you to him. Your head rested in the junction between his neck and shoulder as you cried softly into him. He rubbed your arm, comfortingly.

“They tried to turn you against me.” Steven whispered. “They tried to weaken me by trying to kill you on that boat. I thank the gods that you’re safe now.”

“Thank you for telling me the truth.” You muttered.

Steven nodded and kissed the top of your head. His arm around you tightened a bit. “You should sleep. Get some rest. You need it after what you’ve endured.”

You agreed. Steven untangled himself from you before he leaned down to press a kiss to the scar on your cheek and a kiss on your lips. He began to walk away when you felt panic begin to settle. Your hand shot out and grabbed onto his arm, preventing him from taking another step.

“Please stay.” You begged. “I… I don’t want to be alone.”

He gave you a soft smile and nodded. You scooted over the cot to make room for your husband. The positioning was a bit awkward considering his massive build, but you immediately felt safer once his arms wrapped around you once again.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

You woke up alone in Steven’s bedchamber. The sun had already set, the full moon up in the sky. The pain had subsided after nearly a day of rest. The truth settling in inside your mind.

At least now you knew everything.

The doors opened suddenly to reveal your husband. He smiled at you as you sat up on the bed. “You’re awake.”

“You left me alone.”

Steven’s smile faltered. He couldn’t register if there was sadness in your voice or not as he walked over. “I – I hadn’t meant to upset you.”

You shook your head. “I understand. You’re a king. Your duty is to the people, not to me.”

“I am your husband, first.” Steve argued. “My duty will always be to you, my love.” He took your hand in his and helped you off the bed. “Come. There’s something I must show you.”

He led you to the balcony doors, opening it and allowing the air rush into the room. You breathed it in. The mixed scents from the gardens below overtook your senses, washing out the pained sea salt smell that still haunted you.

Steven guided you out onto the terrace and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in front of him. You gasped as you looked up to the sky. Along with the bright moon and the stars were lanterns that floated into the air and painted the dark sky.

“For years, I stumbled alone in the darkness. Feigned love with false queens who sought to destroy me. And here you are. The true gift the gods bestowed upon me. I truly believe you were crafted to be my soulmate, (Y/N).” He murmured in your ear. “I wish I could take away the pain you’ve endured, but I cannot. I can only tell you whatever comes next, we will face it together as husband and wife.” Tears swelled in your eyes and cascaded down your cheeks as you stared up into the bright sky. “I love you, my light, my love.”

You smiled and turned to him, cupping his bearded cheeks in your hands. “I love you, Steve.”

[hargrove-mayfields]

Just A Dream Away

Chapter 4/13 read here on ao3!

for @harringrovebigbang

~~~~

Steve doesn’t know why he does this to himself.

It’s been, god how long has it even been since the funeral? Almost a year now according to the calendar, though in his head it’s only been weeks.

Time doesn’t really have much to do with it though. Unless they found a way to go back, Billy would still be gone, and he’d still go back to the cemetery each morning just to pretend he wasn’t, leftover alcohol in his system from the night before melding each passing day into a jumble of numbness.

And Steve, as he falls deeper into this routine of self torture, he’s becoming exhausted. Where he was once optimistic, or at least trying to stay focused on looking for the positives and back on the good times, now he's just empty.

He can’t pretend he’s not depressed anymore, and he can’t pretend things are going to be okay either.

As much as he is still hurting, Robin doesn’t let him just mope. If she knew what was making his heart ache, he thinks she might let him have a little more room to grieve, but she doesn’t know, she doesn’t even know how bad he truly gets when she’s not around, so she had made him accept the video store’s job offer they’d left for when his time as representative was finished.

Work is something to do to take his mind off of things, sure, and it’s a way to get him out of the house, but the only reason he accepted was because halfway between his house and the family video is the cemetery, and every day, whether he drives it or walks it depending on if he’s sober enough to take the car, he stops to pay his boyfriend a visit.

Most often he brings flowers, maybe blows a tearful kiss to the ground and moves on, but some days, like today, he feels a heaviness in his heart that tells him to show up hours before he’s due at his shift, ready to talk it out until he absolutely has to leave.

Maybe it’s a habit from the hospital, starting when he used to be cheerful and sit in the grass to talk about happy stories and good things that happened in his day to make Billy feel better. But a year into talking to the dirt instead of his lover had left him bitter, and he was far past that optimistic point, all that’s left now is guilt, remorse, all the feelings about the loss he’d thus far kept bottled up.

This particular morning, he’d awoken from a nightmare, what happened at the mall never leaving his memory, the flashes of sorrow and pain and death lingering behind his eyes when he tries to get even a moment's peace; everyday is hard, but when he wakes up with tears in his eyes, he knows what kind of day it’s going to be.

So he comes out to Hawkins cemetery, no gift in hand today except his company, and kneels in the muddy grass, damp from an overnight storm that contributed to his plagued rest and left him running on an hour, maybe two, of good sleep, and he just starts talking.

He starts with the basics, the generic greetings and declarations of love that he promises each morning, but his emotions quickly rise to the surface. Reaching out to trace his fingers over the indentations in the upright stone, his voice wobbles slightly, and he shifts from venting to what he came here for:

“Billy. Baby, I’m so sorry. I’ve been pretending things will be okay, but I know they won’t. I failed you. I wasn’t there for you and it’s my fault what happened to you. I don’t even deserve to sit here and cry with you. I know Max has but, have you forgiven me? I don’t know where you are now, but I don’t want you to hate me. I love you so much.”

The silence in response is daunting. Makes him want to scream so loud he could tear the earth apart looking for his Billy, but instead he just repeats his apologies and promises again and again until his tears slow. Eventually, when he’s run out of things to say, he stands, stray tears dripping from the end of his nose and rewetting the soil, and leaves.

Drives away to his job like nothing happened, strolling in some thirty minutes late for his shift. Because today is the premiere of some mainstream pop culture film that’s gone way over Steve’s head on video, the Family Video is packed.

“Hey, dingus. Could’ve used you at the start of your shift.” Robin shouts over the shop noise as he strolls past to his post.

Steve shrugs, an over-exaggerated gesture in case she can’t hear him over the crowd, “Well I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“You are, but I don’t see you working. I need help restocking once those shelves are cleared out.”

“Yes ma’am.” Steve does a mocking salute, the grimace on Robin's face making it clear she can see through his overdone gestures that he’s hiding something, overcompensating for the emptiness he feels.

She doesn’t have the chance to bring it up though, because the both of them get whisked off into separate duties working the over capacity video store. Only, while Robin handles it like she would any other day, with mild annoyance and enough spite to get through it alright, Steve is too fragile. All he can register is commotion, chaos: the buzzing neon lights in the ceiling, surging crowds bumping into him, chatter and bustle filling his ears, and he starts to break down.

But because he’s Steve, he tries at first to just power through. Tries to block it out and resume productivity, but he is already knee deep in a panic attack, so he pushes back through the customers, probably a little too roughly, to tell Robin with that lilt of fear and upset to his tone, “Robin, I can’t be out here.”

She barely looks up as she kindly responds, “I get it, Steve. Go take your break, I’ll handle the rush.”

That’s exactly what he does, is go straight to the back room, but instead of his standard fifteen allotted by the overheads, he stays in the back for an hour, and then another, leaving behind customers arguing over who should get the last copy of the new movie, people in line out the door, tapes knocked off of the shelves, all while people are in trying to do their normal returns and rentals. It’s again total chaos out there, only made worse by the fact that Robin is now alone at the counter.

She would also have to clean up once the rush died, and maybe even replace some tapes if people weren’t going to start watching where they’re walking, and as much as Steve wanted to feel bad for disappearing into the back room for the past hour and a half and leaving her with all of that, he can’t be bothered with coming back out, his morning at the cemetery having taken too much from his emotional threshold to be productive, or remorseful even, now.

There are two big plush chairs and a couch in the back, a much nicer room than the icebox that was the Scoops break area, but Steve sits on the floor instead, his back pressed to the door and his stained up knees drawn to his chest. From where he is, the endless noise and bustle drifts down the short hall to the break room, but he’s too in his head, thinking about nothing and everything to pay it any mind.

It takes probably another an hour and a half for all the crowd to die down, the line clearing out and Robin chasing away most of the stragglers after explaining for the hundredth time that until the already rented out copies were returned, they wouldn’t get any more in and that no, they weren’t hiding any in the back.

Steve can hear her cleaning up a little before she gets too behind, cardboard boxes being broken down and the irritating scrape of broom bristles against dusty tiled floors, followed quickly by loud boot steps toward the door that make his chest ache, pretending it was the echoes someone else instead of his best friend.

The break room is locked behind him, something that is forbidden by company policy, but Steve felt necessary, and Robin beats on it with the palm of her hand, startling him out of the half dazed, half alert state he’s been in all day, “Harrington, what are you doing in there? I just did a whole rush by myself, asshole.”

He can’t father the words to respond, tears welling up and choking anything he might say off in his throat. So Robin calls again, the door knob rattling like she’s trying to get in, her voice more concerned, “Steve? You alive in there?”

“Steve.” She tries again, more desperate, and Steve finally finds it in himself to say something, sniffling and responding weakly, “‘M’fine Rob.”

“Can you let me in?” Robin suggests, just on the side of hesitant, making Steve feel something like guilt for shutting her out, both emotionally and in the literal sense, so he stands, shaky and unbalanced, and unlocks the door for her.

He must look as bad as he feels, because Robin's pinched face of concern melts into one of sympathy as soon as she lays eyes on him.

She steps into the back room with him, after a moment of pause which Steve had come to hate, knowing that meant whoever was speaking was going to take pity on him, asking, “You doing okay in here, buddy?”

“What does it look like?” There’s sarcasm and bitterness in his tone, though it’s muffled by his tears. He doesn’t worry about offending Robin, she’s been dealing with his breakdowns for a long time now, and she knew how he could get.

Patiently, in spite of his snappiness, she asks, “Can you tell me what happened?”

Steve’s not sure how that’s even a question anymore.

What happened was fighting monsters at the Byers. Was getting tortured in the Starcourt mall. Was losing his Billy.

To say that those things had a huge impact on him was a gross understatement. Hell, even Robin was affected too, the both of them incredibly emotionally fragile these days with about a thousand things that could trigger them, both were plagued by nightmares and flashbacks and panic attacks at random points in time. It shouldn’t be a mystery what was wrong now.

But having two hour long breakdowns in the employee lounge, Steve had to admit that was new, and Robin was obviously scared for him because of it.

So he lies, “It’s nothing, Robs. Just the same old stuf.” Steve isn’t a very good liar though, he can’t hold eye contact and his voice trails off, revealing him every time.

“Steve.” It was an attempt to appeal to him, maybe to ground him so he’d open up to her, “Please talk to me.”

An attempt, which he shuts down with, “We’re at work right now.”

Robin frowns, a crease in her eyebrow. He’s never seen her look more frustrated as she says, halfway between an insult and a joke, “No, I’m at work. You’re crying in the break room on the floor.”

But again, Steve is having it, “I’m serious, I don’t wanna talk about it here.”

He feels bad about being harsh with Robin, but his grief, this breakdown, it’s not for the general reasons she thinks, it’s specifically because of his visit to Billy’s grave this morning. The heavy realization of everything he’d vented to that cold stone that stood in place of the beaming face, the beautiful boy that always knew what to say, who he loved and still hadn’t told her about, that was what had pushed him over the emotional threshold.

“Alright, well, we’ve got like, an hour left before our shift is over, so you can just veg out back here or you can come and do some work.” Robing announces with a quick glance at her wrist watch, standing and patting the top of Steve’s head just to mess up his hair like he hated before walking out of the room.

At least she was trying.

It takes him a few minutes to find the will to follow her out, but eventually he does sidle up beside her at the front counter, his posture weak and his muddy shoes dragging on the ground, but he’s there, earning a taunting flash of Robins biggest and snarkiest grin as she slides him a stack of tapes that need rewinding.

They don’t get many customers after the initial rush of the early afternoon where he was out for, but he can tell Robin was still keeping her eye on him, just in case he needed a break, or in case he did break himself. Anymore, and much to his dismay, it doesn’t take much to get him overwhelmed, especially not if he was already upset, but he makes sure not to let that show now, putting on a mask like everything is okay, and he is managing it just fine.

Because the thing is, he isn’t managing anything, he’s still grief stricken and he’s drinking himself half to death and he has no future ahead but more sadness, but he’d be damned if he let anybody figure that out. Let anybody worry about him, when he was still living. In his eyes, it’s selfish to expect pity, when you’ve already survived the worst.

He thinks though, by the time their work is almost done, that Robin is starting to suspect something, because the second their shift is over, before the guys to cover the closing shift even show, she’s dragging him out of the store, snatching the keys for the BMW out of Steve's back pocket.

It goes without discussing anymore that on bad days, Robin doesn’t take Steve back home, which is to say, the two of them had been pretty much sharing her dinky little duplex apartment, the two of them living in the right side with a nosy older lady in the other. They both were afraid of what he could do when he was home alone, and, Robin didn’t really know this, but Steve was also afraid of what his father might say the day the dozens of rooms in that house weren’t enough to avoid him, when he realized how pathetic a state his son was in.

The living arrangement didn’t change much though. Steve still wasn’t very good at talking through his problems, and he still wouldn’t eat or shower or sleep regularly. He knew it scared Robin, because it scared him too, but he had other things to worry about.

Maybe it was true that he was so sensitive that it took practically nothing to send him over the edge, but it's not a big deal, he’ll be alright, how are you doing anyway? Robin always has to fight so hard just to get him to talk to her, his best friend who he all but lives with, because all he is worried about is other people. Something to do with losing the one person he was always caring for, trying to make up for not being able to save Billy’s life, or help him through his hardest moments. He knows that, but it doesn’t matter why he’s selfless, as long as he is, right?

Further, he reasons, so what if he’d had a concussion so bad that he still gets migraines that leave him bedridden at times? His friend is hurting and he needs to be there for her. Who cares if he has nightmares so intensely vivid he can’t sleep for weeks at a time? Robin has panic attacks in crowded places, and each time he has to fret about it for days.

It makes her worried sick all the time, knowing that Steve all but refuses to tell her if he needs something, but he doesn’t like feeling studied, can tell she is always looking for signs that something is wrong, watching him to make sure he didn’t do anything he shouldn’t. All she wants is for him to just stop bottling everything up, because she claims she had and it made everything easier for her to cope with, but he’s stubborn.

That just isn’t the way his brain works, and she’s probably sick of trying to get through to him. Somewhere in the back of Steve’s mind, he knows she’s not far from a breakthrough with him, his own coping mechanisms exhausting him to the point he might consider external help, but she doesn’t have to know that yet. For now, she sticks to what she always does in place of these tougher conversations, and that’s to make Steve tea and try to work him down to the point where he’ll talk to her. Today, it’s not going to take much convincing.

The second day he’d ever come over here, she tried to make a pot of coffee for a little chat like this, and Steve had started crying like a baby just from the way it smelled. It reminded him of his mother, of diner dates with Billy and nurses bringing him breakfast, so she had to switch to tea. He could tell it would always bother her when he wouldn’t tell her why something like that was making him so upset, but as Robin would have to come to realize the more he stayed with her, that was just the first of many things she didn’t understand about Steve Harrington.

There were endless triggers that set him off that she witnessed, and when she comforted him, he could tell she understood some of them, like when the lights would flicker when Dorothy ran her vacuum and he’d stop breathing, or when a siren would start up in the distance and he’d get so dizzy and his hands would shake so badly. But it was those overly specific things, like the smell of coffee, that she was sure had nothing to do with what they went through, and her confidence through those breakdowns would be noticeably a lot lower.

Pine tree air fresheners, the click of stilettos on tiled floors, leather car seats, the busy tone of the telephone, cigarette smoke, rose scented perfume, hairspray, crystalline ash trays. The list of things that reminded him of his parents and the utter helplessness of growing up alone and scared, and of his Billy, of everything he had lost when he died. To Robin, who didn’t have the context of his feelings, it just felt like every day there was something new that would set Steve back ten steps in the progress he’d made, and he knew it was making Robin feel so helpless and guilty.

She was getting better while he was still so thoroughly depressed, and she would take missteps on purpose to not get too far ahead of him. He was sabotaging his best friend with his own misery.

The thought draws stinging tears to his eyes, and Steve sits down at the table without saying a word to Robin, knows his composure will crack the moment he opens his mouth.

She finishes making their tea, specifically lemon flavored with two spoonfuls of honey and one of sugar, sliding him his tea in a tacky mug she’d bought him from a yard sale as a sort housewarming gift, an invitation to stay as long as he needed, and sits in the unbalanced chair across from him. “Are we gonna talk about it?”

Steve taps his fingers on the side of his mug, eyes trained on the paint stained and scratched surface of the table, “What do you want me to say? I freaked out at work, nothing new.”

Robin sighs shakily, and it makes Steve feel a pang of guilt in his chest. Despite her best efforts, he gets so defensive all the time anymore, the careless goof he was before Starcourt buried underneath all that was depressing him, and that he wouldn’t share with her. He was an awful friend, spending so much time with his past actions and losses, he’d forgotten how to live in the present.

“But there’s something you haven’t been telling me, Steve.” She bumps their knees together under the table to get him to look at her, “I’m not trying to be nosy or intrude, really, I just want to help you.”

“I don’t need help.” Steve raised his mug to his face, mumbling into it, “It’s supposed to get worse before it gets better, right?”

That same worried crease above her eyebrow appears, “Who told you that?”

He doesn’t answer, staring into the swirling mug before him. A sign for her that he still wasn’t ready to talk. She must decide that she would do most of the talking then, because she puts her mug down, takes a deep breath before saying, “Listen, you don’t have to tell me everything, I just want you to get better and I don’t think you should do it on your own. I haven’t, and I think it’s time I try to be there for you live you’ve been for me.”

There’s a long stretch of silence where Steve didn’t know what to say, the plastic clock Robin had taken from her grandmother’s kitchen ticking away the seconds, the minutes that passed before Steve swallows hard and looks up from the spot he’d been focusing on, trying and failing to find the right words again before he explains himself, “I just think.. I feel like everyone moved on way too fast.”

“From Starcourt?” What she meant didn’t need to be said. She didn’t need to specify the torture, the battle with an interdimensional monster, the fall out afterwards, for him to understand, but that wasn’t it, and he shakes his head no.

Confused, Robin clarifies, “Then from what?”

“All those people that day, Robs, they died and life is just supposed to go on like normal. We still have holidays and we got jobs again, but all those people, they-“ There are tears in his eyes so he cuts himself off, hoping that Robin got the point anyways.

From the look of clarity on her face, she does understand now where this is coming from. Steve had been struggling with survivor's guilt, Robin knew that because he insisted upon attending each and every funeral he could with his schedule at the hospital, and she’d reluctantly driven him to them without question, no matter how unhealthy it was for him.

He had even told her once, when he was drunk off his ass and knocking on her bedroom door in the early hours of the morning, that he didn’t think it was fair that he didn’t die, but all those other people did. She had never gotten an answer out of him when she asked why he thought he deserved to die, and he hoped she’d have forgotten it by now, but now he was cracking, and she was going to figure it out, so he keeps going.

“It’s just, how are we supposed to go back to normal when there’s so many people who can’t? They died, a-and they left behind their families and friends and partners.” He sniffles, tears starting to roll down his colorless face for the second time that day, “How can we act like nothing ever happened when it’s our fault?”

That makes Robin pause, her eyes going wide, “What?”

Steve freezes, hadn’t meant to say that, and he stays quiet until she asks him a second time, “How is it our fault, Steve?”

“Because we were so caught up with that stupid transmission that we missed our chance to help them. And for what? I was just trying to play the hero for Dustin, but I could’ve stopped it if I wasn’t so stupid.”

“What could you have stopped?” Asking so many questions made her sound like a pushy therapist, and it’s making Steve increasingly frustrated, answering harshly, “The-The shadow, Robin! The Mind-Flayer!”

“Okay, I’m sorry. But Steve, I really don’t think there’s much we could have done.”

Steve just shakes his head, insists, “If I hadn’t been so-so focused on doing something I thought was important, I could’ve done something that actually mattered before it was too late. I wasted so much time in the mall. But they needed me and I-I failed them. You feeling bad for me and telling me it’s not my fault doesn’t change that.”

“Steve, if we hadn’t been down there, nobody would’ve known about the gate, and the mind flayer wouldn’t be dead now.” Robin comforts, a deep frown on her tear tracked face, “There wasn’t anything anybody could’ve done.”

It’s not what Steve needs to hear.

“Stop saying that.. I could’ve saved him, and then none of this would’ve happened.” A sob wracks through his body as soon he finishes, the gut wrenching sound echoing through Robin's tiny  apartment kitchen.

“Who?” Robin asks, reaching across the table and taking his shaking hand in her own, “Steve, who could you have saved?”

Through his tears he’s able to stutter out the answer, accented with a pointed sob, “Billy. I could’ve saved Billy..”

She doesn’t say anything in turn, occupied with putting the pieces together, though she’s still missing the larger context, instead pushing her chair back on the scratched kitchen tiles, pulling Steve up out of his own chair into the tightest hug she’d probably ever given anybody. They stand like that for a long time, Steve crying into Robin’s hair and her trying to comfort him through her confusion until his tears slow, or at least the hyperventilating is under control.

When eventually he does pull away from her, he wipes at his eyes and whispers, “Can I tell you something else? It’s about him.”

“Of course.” Robin answers quickly, something like relief, an unfamiliar look on her face anymore, written behind her eyes, making Steve yet again feel a twinge of guilt for hiding so much from his best friend.

He speaks quickly, struggling to get the right words together again, “You know how I said that the only time I was ever in love was with Nancy Wheeler?”

“Yeah?” Robin frowns, and Steve can see it in her face that she’s trying to work through it, what his love life has anything to do with his grief, but it’s a lot harder for him to admit than it is even for her to understand.

“I lied.” He chews on his lip, the faint and bitter taste of blood on his tongue, “And you know how when Dustin asked if we were together, I told him that you weren’t my type and we laughed about it because I’m definitely not yours either?”

“Steve I told you-“ Contemplation is replaced with fear, but he quickly cuts her off, “No, no, it’s not like that. I-I’m not done.”

Steve takes a deep breath, “You sort of are my type, but it was always someone else with-with wavy blonde hair and blue eyes and freckles all over that I was in love with.”

“I don’t understand. Who?”

Steve’s realizing he’s come full circle in this conversation, almost identical to the one they had on the bathroom floor over a year ago now when Robin can out to him, his tone and the distress in his features softening, “Robin.”

The pieces click into place, a whole range of emotion from shock to confusion to finally, sympathy, crossing Robin's face, “Oh, Steve. I’m so sorry. When did you…”

“Christmas Eve last year. Night of the snowball he apologized for being an asshole, and a few weeks later he kissed me.” Six months. The time that they’d had together was now as long as he was in the hospital, and since then how long Steve had been grieving him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She sounds almost hurt by it, the realization that her best friend didn’t come to her with this, especially when she of all people would be understanding. But Steve doesn’t have an answer to that, he doesn’t really know why.

All he does is shrug in response, tired of talking it out anyways, so with a forced sigh Robin tells him, “Well anyways, I’m glad you told me now. You shouldn’t have been doing this on your own for so long.”

Steve smiles weakly and lies, just as he’s been lying for so long, “It’s okay Robin. I’ve been getting better.”

But it doesn’t have the effect on Robin he wants, because she insists, for the first time not just letting him stew in his guilt and bottle everything up, “I don’t think drinking your life away and breaking down more often than ever really counts as doing better.”

Of course he tries to defend himself, anyone would against that, “Come on, Rob-“

But Robin cuts him off, “No, Steve. I’m serious. You need to get help.”

“I’m not going to a therapist.”

“Okay, but you still need to come to me with this stuff.” Steve looks away, and Robin’s tobw gets more desperate, “Steve, please. You can’t do this by yourself. I understand, I’m your best friend. I just want to be there for you.”

“I’ll.. think about it.” Is the last thing he says before he turns to leave, stopping short when he hears Robin sniffle, even on her worst days almost never seeing her cry, “Shit.. Robs.”

“No, no. I’m done talking about it Steve.” Robin shakes her head, her face flushes red as she fights back tears she doesn’t want him to see, biting her knuckles, “Just.. go ahead. I won’t bother you anymore.”

Numbly, he does. He turns and goes up the stairs to the used to be closet Robin turned into a room for him when he comes over.

~~~~

Billy doesn’t know how long he’s been in this hell.

His hair is getting longer, almost down his back now. It’s a matted mess that’ll never brush out even if someday he gets back to water that runs clear and his Gee conditioner he used to slip Susan a few bucks to buy for him, but he can’t bring himself to cut it.

He does shave though. Takes a knife to his face and does his best to use broken and grimy windows and mirrors for accuracy. It seems pointless, and for the most part it is, but his dad used to grow a beard in the winter, and the very last thing he wants is to look like him. Seeing him again would be one thing, but becoming him? That’s something Billy's willing to take a few knicks from a rusty old blade to avoid.

He used to keep track of the days, measured by the patterns in the storms constantly churning overhead, with a notch in the dying bark of a tree he passed between the convenience store and his house, the two places he’d been able to call his safe haven since he found himself trapped.

But then the dogs, as he’d come to call them now, changed. They used to circle the woods, patrol the other side of town, blocking his access to the downtown areas, like the hospital, the police station, Steve’s house. Then suddenly, they started closing in on his side, and from the many encounters he’s had from strays and crossing their invisible boundaries, he knew he couldn’t stay in that place.

So he’d lost his home, the ghost of his family that had been keeping him grounded, gone as he salvages anything he can, and leaves.

For a while, it feels like relief almost. The burden of how long he’d been here and how alone he was lifted, but he knows that’s just a way of comforting himself. He’s actually devastated.

He wants to be able to sleep on his back porch and he wants to be able to look at all the damaged family photos inside the overtaken house, no matter how fake the smiles and poses are, and he just wants to be home. Not that the building means much, home is the feeling, being with the people who he cares about and who care about him. He’s not sure he ever had the sense of what that really meant, but he’d take any dysfunctional upbringing over this.

The best he had for a while was Steve’s place.

Steve is never there, in the physical sense or in that freaky, spiritual, can be heard but not seen way. Inside the mansion is somehow pristinely kept, even in all of this wreckage that destroyed the rest of Hawkins. Mrs. Harrington would be proud of the intact decor and the spotless floors. Whatever those white particles were, which were slowly making it harder and harder for Billy to breath, were the only blemish, everything coated in at least an inch of the stuff.

Outside is another story entirely. The lawn is ripped up, the chairs and lawn ornaments are mangled or missing, and the pool is completely drained, in the place of water gangly vines and more sticky decomposition than he’d seen in even the most remote areas.

He remembers Barbara Holland. He remembers Steve saying she drowned accidentally in his pool when she got brought up. He remembers the fear in his eyes when they were out at night, the way those honey browns would scan the treeline for danger, on his worst days drawing the curtains and refusing to go out back for anything.

He starts to wonder, if maybe the vines mark the victims. His house, Steve’s pool, both completely overtaken. Heather’s house is only a street over from Steve’s, but he can’t will himself to go in there and see if his theory is correct. Same goes for the steelworks, or the community pool.

But, nice as it was, Steve’s house didn't last long as a refuge. He only stays there for a couple of weeks before he again has to grab what he can and abandon it, the dogs having followed him and cut another chunk out of his territory. There was a pack of them wandering the yard, a couple breaking off to charge at the back doors, and Billy has to decide between holing himself up in that hideously wallpapered room that had come to be another definition of home, and running for his damn life.

He chose the latter, scaling the shed roof from the upstairs bathroom window just as the monsters break the glass double doors. Down the rattling drain pipes he prayed would hold his weight, and into the shed to regroup. He’d gotten out with almost nothing of Steve’s, not that polo shirts and nike shoes were great for apocalyptic survival gear, but he wished he could’ve nabbed anything more, a picture, a coat, a bag, at least something he could use.

All he made out with though was a red bandana, which, if he ever gets out of this hell, he has to ask Steve about that, no way his reformed prep was freaky enough to walk around Hawkins advertising his preference for taking it elbow deep, an empty notebook, a pair of scissors as a just in case weapon, and an old banged up Bic which was out of fluid anyways.

The bandanas alright, paisleys not his pattern of choice and he’s more of a navy blue and grey guy than red, but it’d do well enough to keep that nasty shit in the air out of his lungs. Everything else he grabbed is basically useless to him though, so he scours the shed instead, sneaking in through the back door with a sharp eye on where the dogs broke into Steve’s.

In there he gets a little better of a haul, most of it still just junk he can repurpose for tending injuries, but on the back wall, held up by a barely standing shelf, is the golden find, a machete the length of his arm. Brand new and sharpened, a little worn from the rot but clearly never used, the Harrington’s had a gardener to trim back the branches, and everything in here was just for show so Mr. Harrington wouldn’t feel emasculated by not doing any work but answering phone calls and yelling at underpaid workers anyways, so Billy grabs it, finally having more than an old mower blade and a collection of knives from decorative to army to kitchen, most of which were all too small and almost got his arm torn off.

It’s that machine he’d stumbled upon that bittersweet day that he carries now, dripping with the oozing blood of one of the dogs, slightly bent now because another got it between its teeth and more dull from cutting through rubbery skin. The damn thing has saved his life though, many times over as the territories shift again in quick, unpredictable cycles, this last time ending with him cornered in the hospital's courtyard.

He was over there raiding for bandaging and medicine, anything that might help in the long run, but of course, it would have to come in handy just a little sooner, silly Billy for thinking about the future, because the monsters find him.

Thankfully, none of them actually get him, though one is particularly disgusting, it’s head, for lack of a more delicate way to put it, basically explodes when he stabs through it, another damn pair of his jeans getting ruined by the sticky, reddish spatter. The only worry he has time for before he has to kill, or scare off in most cases, the rest of the dogs that step forward, is the damned stain.

There aren’t too many, and those whose brains aren’t dripping off of his weapon, or as annoying as it is, his clothes, run off quickly, leaving Billy himself to move on.

First Cherry Lane, then Steve’s, and now the hospital. Guess it’s time to fucking leave again.

Hawkins is deceptively big for a country bumpkins paradise. The town and its shops and the surrounding neighborhoods only make up some half of the city, even he used to live on the edges of the civilized part, the rest of town stretching on for miles and miles of rural farmland, a couple of houses here and there the deeper you get into the country.

He’d never been over that way except maybe once when Max flipped the map upside down and they got lost on the way to Cherry for the first. That wasn’t much help now, but he was otherwise out of options. It was getting lost in the woods trying to find the more hidden houses, or it was being dinner for the dogs, which he could still hear chittering somewhere nearby, regrouping  for the next attack probably.

The decision isn’t hard for Billy. He grabs whatever he’s salvaged and just bolts, bandana mask around his neck, machete in the bag on his back so he doesn’t cut himself up and make all this surviving for nothing, just getting the hell out of there before they decide they want to fight him again.

Because frankly, after as long as it’s been, his energy is getting low. He doesn’t know what he’s surviving for anymore, let alone if he’s going to be able to for much longer. His lung capacity is getting lower by the day, he’s got old wounds that won’t heal. The dogs probably aren’t too far from finishing him off if he gets attacked too many more times, so he’s just not chancing it.

Billy runs and he runs, coughing up a little blood in the process, until he ends up in a neighborhood he’s never seen before. Right now, that’s good news, so he slows his pace and takes his machete back out, just in case he let his guard down too soon.

Over here it’s a little brighter, a little less destroyed maybe, but still not right. Houses still slump and there are still pulsing vines all over, the roads still dusted with toxins. But there are a lot of houses, and that’s usually good news for avoiding the monsters.

As nice an area as it is, there's still something bigger drawing Billy to this area. Immediately he thinks back to the cemetery, how he’d felt and heard Steve that day, an event he’d come to think, after so long without a repeat feeling, had been only in his head, and he panics, for just a moment.

He knows he can’t let him slip by this time. Closing his eyes, he tries to pinpoint the feeling in his chest, like an arrow that can guide him in the direction of this, a compass pointing straight to his love.

Trusting that this feeling isn’t a warning, and he’s not about to walk into a nest, he follows it, slowly at first but with more fervor when he hears two echoing voices at the same time his chest clenches. He recognizes one as a vague face in his memory, Steve’s best friend, the one Heather never had the guts to tell about the crush she had on her, Robin maybe was her name. The other voice, well, the other voice is Steve’s.

They’re coming from a rotten duplex with no doors or windows. It looks a lot like a marked house, and he wonders if Robin knows she got a discount because the owner of the house was dead, melted into a monster that has tried to kill her along with the rest.

Approaching the house, he doesn’t know what to expect, if maybe they’ll be inside, or if this is just some delusion from a lack of oxygen to his brain. It doesn’t really matter. He steps up, careful to avoid rickety spots in he steps, and goes inside.

First, he leans his machete against the mushroom wall. There’s two reasons he never brings the weapons all the way in, first being that any mess he made in the house always had to be cleaned up by his step mother, so outside of the deepest throws of teenage rebellion, he always did what he could to minimize dirt in he house, and that included bringing a machete dripping with brains inside, even if there wasn't anyone around to see it, it was a habit built by thankful glances and praise, albeit somewhat backhanded, from his parents, so it was one he continued to honor.

Second, he harbors a deep respect for the houses he’s stayed in, despite the lack of doors on this one, each and every home he’s entered, no matter if it was for five minutes to steal some food or upwards of weeks where he slept there, these buildings were his shelter, and he feels the need to respect them, so, weapons stay at the front door. So far, the dogs haven’t followed him inside.

Looking around, he can tell Steve isn’t here either. The house is definitely abandoned just like the rest, and his heart sinks just a little, until he hears it again. A vague whisper that’s just barely audible to his ear.

He knows he’s in the right place. Every inch of him aches for Steve, but he can’t see him. He tries again to call out for him, an echo of the cemetery, “Steve? Can you hear me?”

No response comes.

“I don’t understand, why can’t you hear me?”

Things have gone silent on the other side, and Billy feels hopeless. A bout of frustration turns him around, the urge to forget about his stupid rules and just tear this house apart until he finds his Steve, curbed by seeing the wall phone.

He’s not stupid. He’s been over here long enough to realize he’s not in Hawkins, not the real one anyhow, that they, Steve and his family and everyone else are instead. The how and the why are another story entirely, but he has the basic understanding that he is alone, and they are parallel to him. Coexisting in different planes.

And if that is the case and he’s not on the worst trip of his life or just completely off his rocker, him and the dogs he kills an Agave and Pentheus type situation, then he can contact the other plane, say, by telephone even.

Luckily for him, Robin is forgetful, and there’s a list of numbers taped to the wall by the phone, only slightly worn with black gooey rot. He picks up the phone and listens to the emptiness, no dial tone in his ear. His hands are shaky as he slowly, hesitantly punches in the numbers, the three and the eight buttons getting monster blood on them from his fingers.

He raises the phone to his ear, the sound of his own ragged breathing echoing back in his ear as he waits for someone to answer, the line ringing, and ringing, and ringing.